It was another one of those hot mornings that previewed a searing tropical heat. Carina was already beginning to seat through her sleeveless blouse and it was a hot breath of high summer that billowed her skirt as she arranged her wares. Her daughter, Augusta, was hanging her little bamboo framed paintings around the crossbeam of the stall. They smiled and laughed together listening to the constant litany of life in the marketplace. In a few minutes, the place would start to crowd with the daily shoppers and by noon the place would crawl with tourists.

More tourists were coming through this country now that the other neighboring countries had fallen to the closed policies usually redolent among Communist countries. Carina guessed it wouldn’t last long, she had a pessimistic eye, so she worked hard to make the best of it while it lasted. Augusta looked forward to the different languages that wafted through the market, marking the prodding trails of the foreigners.

“Mama! They’re coming!, Look, these ones are all tall men in Americanas. They looks so handsome.” She was always falling in love with a foreigner the minute she saw them and just as easily forgot them when the next tourista showed up to catch her fancy.

“Well, then don’t expect them to buy your paintings.” Casina always suspected that the only things a group of men had in mind were pretty women, not the budding painting talent of a young girl.

“Oh Mama, don’t be so pessismistic.” Sighed Augusta.

She eyed the group as they got closer, they seemed to be led by a brown haired fellow who would have been described as non-descript, if his eyes, his green eyes, didn’t catch the sun the way they did. They seemed to glitter, mesmerizing onlookers. He also looked as if he knew exactly how his eyes affected people. He led like a king with his knights, parading through the market as if he were inspecting his domains. He smiled as he pointed out different things for sale among the stalls and slightly bowing to each other proprietor as he caught their eyes.

“Oh Mama, his eyes! They look just like Papa’s.” Augusta sighed.

“They are not!” You’re father’s is handsomer, stronger and sincere. He looks like a Georgie-boy, break your heart and run away.” Casina refuted.

A small gasp escaped Augusta’s lips just before the green-eyed king of Augusta’s daydreams turned and beamed his sights on her. Augusta looked like a frightened doe caught in a car’s headlights.

“Hello.” He had a soft, melodic voice that almost whispered. As if his hello were a secret, Augusta stiffened, blushed and tore her gaze from him to her feet. Casina interjected herself in front of the man, shoving a small glazed porcelain vase under his nose.

“Pretty, yes?” She offered, trying to disgrace the green-eyed man.

“Yes, yes, very pretty.” He answered, but Casina noticed how his eyes never left Augusta. She frowned and tried again.

“Only 50 pisos, good bargain. I’m the best here, good quality and my daughter does the painting. “ DAMN! She hadn’t meant to draw more attention to Augusta.

“Well, well? You want I should wrap this for you, Sir?” She raised her voice.

“Yes?!” His head snapped towards her, as if he just heard her. “What was that?”

“Do you want the VASE?” Emphasizing the vase with a shake of her hand.

“The vase? Oh yes.” He finally focused on Casina, seemingly regaining his senses. He took the vase from the hand and examined it.

“You said your daughter does the paintings?” He asked.

Casina nodded, her lips quirked tightly shut.

“Does she do these too?” He waved at the little bamboo framed paintings of sunsets, rice fields, caraboas and coconut trees. Casina nodded impatiently.

“You want to buy?” She watched him take a picture down and start examining it.

“But these paintings aren’t signed! Every artist should sign their work.” He looked at Casina, then at Augusta questioningly. Augusta still stared at her feet.