Mrs. Piquet's Predilection
In 1930s Spain, a young wife is reluctant to open upDolores Piquet shuffled her feet nervously and ran her fingers through her shoulder-length brown hair. She was alone in the waiting room. Or at least she was the only patient if that was the right word. Was she a patient? There was nothing wrong with her. She could have walked out any minute. But she didn’t. She had to know more. The bored-looking receptionist looked up from her typewriter. “He won’t be long now,” she sai...