The handsome guest was taken aback by his host's question. Remembering his manners, the young man regained his composure.

"Um, I like anything," Hector shrugged. "Whatever you serve, I will eat."

Imelda quirked an eyebrow. "Are you sure you'll eat anything ? Let's make things easy for me. What is your favorite dish?"

"Chapulines."

"Great, I'll get started on it!" Imelda smiled and dashed back to the kitchen. Her guest followed her.

"Do you need any help?"

Hector's question surprised her. No one has ever asked her that. Imelda shook her head.

"No gracias."

"Are you certain?"

"Yes, I have it under control."

"I could help you cook-"

"Ah, ah, ah! I will cook! You will sit down!" Imelda led Hector out of the kitchen and sat him down on a chair by the table.

"Aww, at least let me help you set the table," the guest proposed.

"You can do that after the cooking is done!" Imelda emphasized. It is not that she didn't want his help. She was just used to doing dishes by herself that she hardly need help. Besides, the kitchen is so small that only one person can be in it.

"Hmmm...oh well, whatever you say," Hector shrugged, again. He pulled a little red notebook and a pencil out of his suitcase and placed them on the table. Next, Hector opened his guitar case and took out his guitar. He tuned it and strummed it. Beautiful! Hector felt like doing some warm ups so he strummed a few more tunes and sang a familiar song.

" You know that feeling? Like there's a song in the air, and it's playing just for you?

A feeling so close, you can reach out and touch it

I never knew I could want something so much but it's true ...,"

" OYE !"

The voice made Hector jump out of his seat and accidentally hit the wrong chord. He turned to see his hostess, who had just quickly reappeared from the kitchen.

"How did you know Ernesto's song?"

"What do you mean?" Hector asked, blinking his eyes.

Imelda sighed and walked over to him. "On the day my husband and I met, he sang this song to me and said he wrote it!"

"Que? No, this is my song!" Hector clarified. "I wrote it for a girl whom I used to like, when I was a 14."

The young woman peeked over the young musician's shoulder to see the song sheet of that song in the red songbook . Reading the name of its author, it was clear that the author was not her husband but Hector Rivera.

Her heart sank, her shoulders dropped, and her hands clenched into fists. How could she fall for Ernesto's trick so easily?

"Oye, are you okay?"

Her guest's voice broke her train of thought.

"Fine," she responded with a fake smile. "Just...fine."

Before he could ask her what's wrong, Imelda walked back to the kitchen, not wanting to talk about it.

Hector wondered how Ernesto managed to marry Imelda. Usually all the women his friend had serenaded, were rescued by their fathers. So how did Imelda get trapped by Ernesto this time? Heck, he had no idea that Ernesto wasn't married! How did that happen?

"Hmm...I wonder where Ernesto is?"

Meanwhile, Ernesto was at a saloon bar, dancing wildly, with a loose woman.

"You are so guapo, señor!" the woman whispered in his ear. "Want to spend the night with me?"

"Oh yeah...," Ernesto slurred, wrapping his arm around her waist. It was clear that he had drank too much tequila. They were about to exit together out of the club when they were stopped by Ernesto's short friend.

"Move Gustavo!"

"You cannot go home yet," Gustavo said. "It's raining out there!"

"I am going home," Ernesto slurred. "With this lovely señorita uh...what your name again?"

"Oh he is so funny!" his conquest laughed. "Me llamo Camila. But I agree with your friend, it's too wet outside."

"Where can we have fun, then?" Ernesto whined, acting like a child.

"Let's go in the back," Camila whispered in his ear.

The drunken man smiled lecherously at the suggestion. "Of course!"

"Man, what is up with you?" Gustavo sighed. "How can you be married and yet sleep with other women?"

"No te entiendo Gustavo," Ernesto replied, pretending not to hear. "Your question doesn't make sense. It's like asking, 'Ernesto, ants carry food three times their weight, why are tacos so delicious?' Understand?"

"Uhh...,"

"Yes, that is what I thought, adiós!" Ernesto waved as he walked off with Camila.

Antonio, who had been sitting nearby heard the conversation and shook his head. He walked over to Gustavo.

"Doesn't he realize that Hector Rivera might be here today?"

"Yes, but if we let Ernesto go home and Hector sees him like this, we might lose our songwriter!"

The two men jumped at the sound of thunder.

"You are right!" Antonino nodded. "Hopefully Hector is at the hotel, by now."

"Dinner is ready!" Imelda announced. She carried two plates of chapulines and set them down on the table.

She was surprised when Hector stood up pulled out a chair for her. Not even Ernesto did that for her.

After she sat down, she noticed that Hector hadn't touched his food yet.

"Why don't you eat? Is something wrong?"

"No, I am waiting for you to be seated first, so we can both began eating," Hector kindly explained.

"Well, you can start eating now," the young woman spoke nervously. What if Ernesto was right? What if her guest did find her cooking disgusting? She observed her guest taking his first bite.

"Mmm, these chapulines are delicious!" Hector said, happily.

"Verdad?" Imelda was so surprised, that she almost dropped her fork. She couldn't remember the last time someone complimented her.

"Yes!" Hector spoke before taking another bite. After finished chewing and swallowed he added, "These are the best chapulines I have ever had!"

Imelda was secretly pleased. Ha, take that Ernesto! She thought. I am good at cooking , after all! "Tell me about yourself," she requested. "Where are you from?"

"Well, I was born and raised in Santa Cecilia," Hector summarized. "My mother died when I was a baby and my father died of pneumonia. So I live with my Tío Chicharron and Tía Juanita. In fact, my Tío was the one who taught me how to be a musician...,"

Imelda smiled as she listened to her guest, soaking up his wonderful stories of Santa Cecilia. She learned that he always wanted to be a musician since he as a little boy. Thanks to his Uncle, who had given him lot of training, Hector sang his heart out whenever he was on the plaza. When he is not singing for his friends and family, Hector spent time helping his family tending to their farm. She laughed at Hector's stories, such as the one a it how Chicharron got thrown off his horse and landed in the river.

For the first time in forever, mealtime was peaceful. Imelda couldn't remember the last time she had a good time.

After dinner was over, the woman gathered up the empty, dirty dishes while Hector put his guitar and songbook away. He looked outside.

"Apparently, it is still raining."

"No need to worry," his hostess assured him. "You can sleep in my husband's room and I will sleep in my bed."

Hector raised an eyebrow.

"Don't you two sleep in the same bedroom?"

"Oh please!" Imelda scoffed, rolling her eyes. "We never sleep together ever!"

Hector found it strange that a married couple don't share a bed together. He wondered why but said nothing because it was not appropriate to ask. He let out a surprised comical sound when Imelda threw a bath towel, a blanket, a pillow, and a toothbrush in his arms.

"Those are your things for tonight," she smiled. "Bathroom is open for you." She yawned, feeling tired. "Well, Buenos Noches!"

"Buenas Noches!" Hector smiled back. "And gracias for everything!"

"De nada!"

The two retired to their own rooms-Imelda in her own bedroom and Hector in Ernesto's room.

Imelda went to sleep in high spirits. She finally met a friend!