When Mom two-stepped in, the butchers, cashiers, and clerks addressed her as usted, and while I didn’t understand it, I liked it. They called her Señora Berta and welcomed her in a singsong Spanish that I struggled to keep up with. The flirting was low-key, but even as a child, I caught the smiles, the winks. Mom grinned back, her eyes made up perfectly with her jet-black Maybelline pencil.
