"Buenas noches, Maria."
"Buenas noches, Senor Vega."
"Estas bien?"
"Yes, I'm fine, Senor. Thank you very much."
"That makes me happy. How is Don Rafael?"
The older servant smiled. "Playing chess with Felipe. For two hours now."
"Sounds like an exciting game. Any idea who's winning?"
"You'll have to ask him yourself. I'll keep out of it," came the evasive answer.
Diego stifled a laugh, gave the woman a quick nod goodbye, and walked purposefully straight ahead before turning left and pushing open the door to the salon.
The large room was dominated by massive, dark furniture. Don Rafael and young Felipe, however, had made themselves comfortable as usual in the far right corner. They sat together in the somewhat worn but extremely comfortable armchairs and studied the chessboard that lay on a small table.
The young caballero wondered. He would probably never fully understand why the Don was not disturbed by this juxtaposition of old, worn and high-quality furniture, and even liked it.
As he cautiously approached the two players, he watched as Rafael hesitantly moved his hand toward the queen and glanced sideways at Felipe. Felipe shook his head vigorously.
"No?! Damn it, Felipe, why is this move wrong? What did I miss again?"
The boy made no sound, but tried to explain something with wordless gestures.
Rafael watched him closely, then furrowed his brow and sighed. "Madre de Dios! How can you think so far ahead?" The older man was about to say something else, but stopped when he noticed his visitor.
"Ah, Diego, my son. Why don't you come closer? Or better not, otherwise you'll teach Felipe even more. I don't stand a chance against him since you started playing chess with him regularly!"
The teenager's answer was a broad and satisfied grin.
"I'm sorry, Don Rafael. But I'm afraid Felipe has outgrown both of us when it comes to playing chess. I have to work harder and harder to win against him, and soon I won't stand a chance either. I'm no better," the young Vega revealed.
"Maybe we should take a break, me and Felipe, now that you're here. The board isn't going anywhere. Have you eaten yet?"
"Si, Don Rafael. But that's not why I came. You know I enjoy visiting you."
"It's nice that you still want to keep an old man like me company. I am very grateful to you."
"I have to thank you for the support you give me all the time," the young man objected. "Even though you know it is not necessary and not always right for me."
It was not the first time that Diego had made this point. But he knew his objection was in vain. To Don Rafael, he was like the son he never had.
"Disparate, Diego! You saved my life. A little assistance is the least I can do. Let's go to the fireplace room and talk a little, shall we?"
"Of course," the young Vega declared, meeting Felipe's gaze. As expected, the young teenager beamed at him.
It was a very special bond that held them together, even if Diego didn't really understand it. They had gotten along very well from the beginning, even when they first met. At first glance, they didn't have much in common, the caballero from Los Angeles and the mute orphan of unknown origin who had hardly any memories of his former life. But the boy's lack of voice had never been a problem-Diego had enthusiastically begun to learn sign language, and they often understood each other without words.
Perhaps Don Rafael was not the only one who had developed fatherly feelings.