“He shouldn’t speak to me with such impertinence. I know better than he about business matters.”
She liked Arturo best of all the men in the world. She thought him intelligent, magnificent even. But Tadeo was still her brother, for all his faults and his hot temper, and Alba frowned. “He knows about farming, Uncle. He knows the land.”
“I know it, too. I lived here for a few years. It’s not good, fertile land.”
“It’s the Quirogas’ land, though. Our inheritance.”
“A poor one.” Arturo walked past her and went toward the piano. He flipped the fallboard up, his fingers toying with a couple of keys. “Are you angry at me, just like Tadeo?” he asked with a smirk. “Would you like to see me gone? I will pack my bags tonight if you should wish it.”
Quickly she stepped closer to him, the simmering irritation that had built in the pit of her stomach exchanged for surprise and anxiety.
“Of course not! I wanted you to visit us so badly! I even knotted a cord around a piece of yellow cloth so that you’d come to us.”
“You did what?” he asked.
“It’s a spell. It worked,” she said proudly.
“Who taught you that?” he asked, his brow furrowed.
“Valentín. But everyone knows such tricks.”
“That’s the boy who works at the Molinas’ estate, isn’t he? The one who handed you a bouquet today?”
“Yes,” Alba said, carefully touching a lock of her dark hair and glancing down at the floor. “He’s my friend.”
“You’re a bit too old to be listening to the silly superstitions of the peasants. Those idiotic tales will rot your brain,” Arturo said, snapping the fallboard of the piano shut with a firm hand.
“It’s only stories. My father believed some of the same things. He’d put a bowl of salt by the door to keep witches out, or else a pair of scissors under the bed.”
“And if the scissors rust it means a powerful witch is about,” Arturo said, shaking his head. “I’ve heard such tales. That is why I left this place and why your brother should consider selling the farm. What can you learn on a farm like this except the uneducated nonsense the laborers repeat?”
“It’s not always nonsense. I have portents, sometimes, when the light of the moon shines on my face. Even before you sent word that you’d be on the five o’clock train, I knew you’d come at that time.”
“Portents. Truly, Alba.”
“My father used to have them. And I remember when our great-aunt Guadalupe once visited us, how she’d talk to ghosts.”
“Aunt Guadalupe was a senile old lady who couldn’t remember what month of the year it was. If you believed her, then you must be sillier than I thought.”
“Uncle, don’t mock me,” she said, wounded by his harsh rebuke. She supposed it was a bit silly to believe in such whimsies, but she blushed, fearing he now thought her crude. She shouldn’t have told him anything, but then again, she’d been excited to share her secrets.
“Alba, dearest,” Arturo said as he gathered her hands between his own and held them tight, his voice dropping, growing sweet, “in Mexico City a new century has dawned. There is no space there for such childish beliefs, not in this modern world of ours. Tadeo should most definitely sell this old tomb and rescue you from the perils of rural life.”
“Those spells…they’re games. You mustn’t think I truly believe in it.”
“I know, I know. Yet think of Mexico City. Wouldn’t you like to settle there? Alba, it’s a delight that you cannot even begin to imagine! You can walk through the Alameda and head to the Teatro Principal to listen to the opera. You can dance the latest dances and drink the best wines. I’ve attended parties where they dangle electric lights in the shape of stars, and they shine as bright as any celestial object. Everything is dull and drab here, and everything is alive there. There are palaces, carriages, even motorcars.”
“Do you have a lover in Mexico City?” she asked.
He still held her hands and was looking down at them. He smiled the tiniest of smiles. “What a strange notion. You must have obtained it from my sister Julia, perhaps?”
“She wrote to Mother and said you must have a lover because of how quickly you go through money.”
This was a brazen thing to repeat, but Uncle Arturo seemed amused rather than offended.
“I have used the meager allowance that my father provides to furnish a charming apartment with a balcony. But no woman has set foot in it.”
“But you want one to set foot in it. I bet I can guess her name.”
