“No, I’m sure you are used to having a fellow dance to your tune. For all I know you have a dozen men visit you each year—one for each month of the calendar—and laugh as they make fools of themselves.”
“That is an obscene thought,” she said, but he could tell it brought her pleasure to picture herself as the kind of woman who was inundated with suitors, the kind of woman who was serenaded each weekend. A modern Penelope, besieged by princes.
“I’ve spoken to people around town, and they’ve let me know you seem fond of Mr. Sotomayor. Maybe you have an understanding with him.”
“Why are you gossiping about me?”
“It’s not gossip if the information is offered freely and without any prodding.”
“I have no understanding with Mr. Sotomayor. He works for me. It’s rude of you to suggest anything else.”
“I’m sorry, but it needed to be said. There are women who will toy with a fellow’s heart with the ruthlessness of a cat stalking a canary. I’m not meant to be toyed with, Perla,” he told her. “By God, you’re a hard woman!”
Before she could reply, he pulled her to him and kissed her. She withdrew, flustered, but she was awfully slow about it. He thought of kissing her a second time for good measure, but decided once was enough, that it was best to leave her wanting.
He was certain she was about to scold him, so he spoke first. “I had to do that, and I won’t apologize,” he said. “I should have done it sooner and I’m only sorry that I didn’t. You may call me names now, and say I’m rude, and even order me to pack my bags and board the next train that passes through town. Yet it had to be done.”
“Youarerude, Mr. Linares,” she said, yet seemed at a loss to think of more words and also seemed more than a little pleased.
He didn’t want to give her more time to gather her wits, so he smiled at her and simply left her there. As he was heading up the stairs, he saw Inés coming down with a laundry basket in her arms. They stopped in the middle of the staircase and spoke in whispers.
“The bait has been set,” he said. “I’ve kissed your dear aunt, and she seemed to like it.”
“That’s not the same as wedding bells, but it’s a beginning,” she said, resting the laundry basket on her hip.
“Leave it to me. I have a job for you, incidentally. Do you know where she keeps her financial documents?”
“In the office, and others in the desk in her room. They’re under lock and key, the things in her room, but I can get into the office. What do you want exactly?”
“An inventory. I need to know how many bank accounts she has, and with what banks. Property, safety-deposit boxes, that kind of stuff. I heard her talking to Cándido one day and he said she had ninety thousand pesos in the bank. Do you think it’s that much in cash, or was he talking about the value of the house and her accounts combined?”
“Ninety thousand,” the girl said, astonished. “It must be in the bank. I can’t think the house would be worth that much, not in this town. But ninety thousand, what a number.”
“You didn’t know?”
“I’ve suspected she has a large amount stashed somewhere, but not the specifics.”
He should have kept the information to himself and could have cheated her in the process, but he figured the idea of a substantial payday would keep her incentivized. He could always trick her later, pretend it was less than he had imagined.
She looked him in the eyes and shook her head. “You may think it’s silly, but I wasn’t curious about her money until now. I never thought I’d have any of it, I figured I’d die old and penniless and that would be the end of it. Or she’d leave me the house, with the leaks in the roof to keep me awake at night.”
He felt a pang of sympathy for this girl. She had lived at the margins of everything, much like he had, albeit in a different way, though he’dhad his share of sleepless nights punctuated with the music of a leaky roof.
—
For the next couple of days, Perla was subdued and did not talk much to him when they had their meals together. Ulises remained equally quiet. He could tell his silence was like a flame that was slowly boiling her blood. She was expecting a delicate apology or a repeat of his performance. He granted her neither.
As a result, her eyes seemed to be always fixed in his direction, anticipating words that did not come, caresses that were never offered.
Meanwhile, Inés had looked at most of the documentation he needed. Perla had two accounts and a safety-deposit box in Veracruz. The sum of it all was eighty-seven thousand pesos. There were other papers that Inés couldn’t get her hands on.
“She keeps documents in her desk, up in her room. It used to be my grandfather’s desk and it has a lock. I have no idea where she stores the key,” she explained. “The deed to the house must be in there, along with my grandfather’s old papers from when they still owned the coffee company. She also keeps cash there.”
“Can you pry it open?”
“I don’t think so, and if I break the lock, she’ll know I’ve been snooping around.”
“I’ve never been much of a lock picker,” he admitted. “It probably won’t make a difference; the house is useless anyway. We need liquid assets. And the cash she has stuffed in the desk can’t amount to much.”
