Best Kept Secrets by Rochelle Alers Read Free Book Online

gone to bed, dehydrated, ravenous and in need of a shower. His underwear was pasted to his sweat-drenched body.
    Sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed, he pulled on a pair of pants and reached for a towel from a supply he’d been given when he checked in, then gathered a small case with his grooming supplies and a change of clothes. He left the room, locking the door behind him, and walked down the narrow hallway to one of two bathrooms on the floor.
    Fortified with a late-morning meal of white rice, black beans, steak and onions, and fried sweet bananas, Samuel set off on foot to tour the Caribbean coastal region of Costa Rica.
    He could’ve passed for a native with his Panama hat, sandals, cotton slacks and guayabera if he hadn’t stopped to examine fruits and vegetables piled on tables at an open-air market. Barefoot children chased one another as their parents called out to them in various languages and dialects. Two women in neighboring stalls were engaged in a heated argument that had gotten everyone’s attention close enough to overhear the virulent words they hurled at each other.
    Samuel felt a kinship with the black inhabitants of Puerto Limon that he hadn’t felt with those in Cuba. They appeared more relaxed, outwardly friendly, and were quick to engage him in conversation. Once they heard him speak, they were unable to conceal their shock that an American black man had come to their isolated region of Costa Rica.
    “What’s that?” he asked an elderly woman sitting on a wooden crate and holding an umbrella over her head. He pointed to a large sphere with bumpy yellowish skin.
    “Breadfruit.”
    Samuel smiled. “The same breadfruit Captain Bligh brought from Tahiti to the West Indies?”
    She smiled, displaying gold-capped teeth. “Yes, mister.”
    He pointed to another strange-looking vegetable. “And this one?”
    “Yucca, mister.” She adjusted her umbrella, peering closely at the tall stranger. “You from America?” Samuel nodded. “Doyou want to buy sum-ting from Miss Alva, mister? I have fresh coconuts and pretty bananas. You like bananas?”
    Her lilting speech reminded him of music. “Yes, ma’am.”
    She picked up two large, ripe, blemish-free bananas. “I give you real cheap.”
    “How cheap?”
    “One dollar.”
    “One dollar?” Samuel repeated. “One dollar for two bananas?”
    “Yes, mister.” She cradled them gently like one would a newborn baby. “Are they not beautiful?”
    A frown appeared between his eyes. “Yes, they are. But not for a dollar.”
    Alva’s broad face creased with a wide smile. “What is a dollar to a rich American?”
    “He will be a very poor American if he pays your outrageous prices, Miss Alva,” said a deep, drawling voice from a neighboring stall. “Why is it you always have one price for Ticos and another for foreigners?”
    “Mind your mouth, Lennox,” she hissed, waving at him. “You bad for my business.” She shifted her attention to her customer. “You want bananas?”
    Never go to a country to negotiate a business deal without prior knowledge of that country or its people. Arturo Moreno’s words were branded into his brain and in Samuel’s heart, and he knew he had to acquaint himself with the culture and some of the customs of the Central American country before his meeting.
    He glared at Miss Alva, hoping to intimidate her. “I’ll buy your overpriced fruit, but not before you do something for me.”
    “What you want, mister?”
    “I need to speak to someone who knows about doing business in Puerto Limon.”
    “You want him to speak English?”
    “Yes, ma’am.”
    “Go down the road to Donovan’s,” she said, pointing an arthritic finger. “You will find the American there.”
    “Does the American have a name?”
    “No. Just ask anyone for the American.”
    Reaching into his pocket, Samuel took out a silver dollar and placed it on the tabletop. “I’ll be back for my bananas.” He winked at