Chapter 41
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
The sign on the door read Ellis and Associates, Attorneys-At-Law, but the noises coming from inside reminded Yvonne of an out-of-control children’s party. “Are you sure this is the right place?” she whispered to Chris.
“Sign says so, but maybe he’s running a daycare center on the side?” Chris winked at her. “I don’t know about the noise, but everyone sounds happy, so I take that as a good sign.”
He opened the door and ushered her in. The noise level increased markedly. There must have been twenty under the age of five or six and several older children who seemed to be in charge. She only saw three adults besides themselves and the receptionist.
The young woman seated at the desk facing her seemed oblivious to the racket. Without looking at them, she said, “Buenos días,” followed by a string of rapid Spanish as she handed them a clipboard which Yvonne took.
“This makes no sense!” Yvonne handed the clipboard to Chris. “What language is this? Latin?”
“No, angel, it’s in Spanish.” He turned to the receptionist. “Excuse me, miss; we don’t speak Spanish. I think you’ve given us the wrong form.”
The woman looked up at them, lingered on their blond hair, and dropped her gaze to her desk.
She glanced at the stack of clipboards and selected a different one.
“Please take a seat and fill this out. Mr. Ellis will be with you shortly.” She turned back to her computer, clearly dismissing them once more from her mind.
Yvonne looked around the room for empty chairs. It wasn’t a large area, but every surface seemed to be covered with children or toys. A woman who appeared to be in her fifties looked up and waved them over, moving a child and toys off two chairs for them.
They picked their way through the other children and toys without incident and joined the woman.
“Buenos días,” Chris said.
The woman responded in kind and continued in Spanish. Chris made the universal gesture of surrender. “No hablo Espanol, senora. ?Habla usted Inglés?”
“Un poco. Me llamo Maria.” She tapped her chest. “?Y tú?” She indicated him.
“Me llamo Chris. Se llama Yvonne.” He turned to Yvonne. “I have now used up my high school Spanish. Everything else I know I learned from the day laborers we take on occasionally, and most of that isn’t polite.” He turned back to Maria. “Lo siento, Maria. I’m sorry I don’t speak any more.”
“Is okay.” She lifted her hands with the palms up. “You”—Maria pointed at them both—“you married?”
“Not yet.” Chris folded his long legs under the plastic chair. “We’re engaged. Yvonne is Dutch. From the Netherlands. We need immigration help.”
“Todos, all,” Maria indicated the room, “all need help with la migra. Senor Ellis, he good man. He will help.”
The inner office door opened, and a man who looked young enough to still be in high school escorted out a couple.
They spoke Spanish as the couple collected three of the children from the group and left.
He glanced around the room and did a double take when he took in Chris and Yvonne.
He approached. “Josh Ellis. You must be the Van Dijks.”
“I am Yvonne van Dijk. This is my fiancé, Chris Smith.” She stood and held out her hand to shake.
“Good to meet you.” The young man shook hands with both. “Why don’t you come back to my office, and we can discuss what you need.”