“He was drinking with the professor. They play dominoes on Mondays at La Dominica.”
Inés frowned. “That horrid man! He promised he wasn’t going to play and drink anymore.”
“The professor isn’t ever going to stop drinking,” Estrella said as she stopped her rhythmic chopping and looked up at Inés. “He’s the way he is. His soul is crooked. It’s because of the day of the month he was born. It’s all fated, Niña Inés.”
“I hate it when you talk of fate,” Inés said, thinking irritably about the circumstances of her birth, her family, which apparently decreed that she be chained to this house and never venture far from Puerco Ahogado.
Estrella shrugged. Inés turned to Fito. “Why do you need ice anyway?”
“Company’s coming and your aunt wants to make drinks. It’s only Sarita Novo, but you know how fussy she can be, especially after she’s been reading those magazines with cocktail recipes. Martini lunches, she calls ’em.”
“Then you better make sure you get a piece of ice somehow, or she’ll yell at you again. Where’s the kettle?”
“Right over there. You’d think with how she complains about money she wouldn’t be wasting it on ice and drinks. She damn near beat me when I asked her for a raise,” Fito said sadly.
“I told him not to,” Estrella said, shaking her head. “But when do young people listen to me?”
“I need to hand the professor his tea and the dog needs to go for a walk, so you might as well do that before you get the ice. If my aunt sees you reading the paper, she’ll garnish your wages this week.”
“Sure,” Fito said with a sigh.
Inés boiled the water and prepared the tea. She bumped into her aunt as she was heading out of the kitchen with the pot and cup.
“There you are,” Perla said. “I had no idea where you’d gone.”
“I was making tea for the professor.”
“If there’s a sip of alcohol in that ‘tea’ I’ll give you a beating. That dried-up mummy is always sipping my liquor.”
“There’s no liquor.”
Perla lifted the lid of the pot and took a sniff. She replaced it, but she was still frowning. “Fine. But you shouldn’t be nursing him. It’s a waste of time; the bastard is behind on his rent again.”
“He’ll catch up,” Inés assured her.
“I suppose you don’t care if there’s money coming into this house or not, since you don’t pay any of the bills.”
Aunt Perla was in an awful mood. Inés wondered if Ulises was the culprit. After all, he’d tried talking to her again the previous night about money matters and been defeated. But even if Perla had won that battle, she was sure to still be annoyed. Perhaps she was mad at Fito for asking for a raise.
Inés lowered her gaze. Her silence somehow managed to irritate her aunt more than an insolent reply, and she knew it. Quietly, she felt Perla boiling with repressed anger.
“Go ahead, take the tea. Then finish with the linens.”
“Yes, Aunt Perla.”
—
Sunday morning Inés pretended she was ill. All the other women in the house departed while Nepomuceno snored inside his room. As soon as she heard the front door slamming shut, Inés leaped out of bed and headed to her aunt’s bedroom. Ulises was already there, fiddling with two pieces of thin metal, trying to pry open the massive secretaire.
“Will we be able to lock it afterward?” she asked.
“No. Let’s hope she doesn’t notice that it was left open, or that she thinks she forgot to lock it,” he said.
His first couple attempts were futile, and he cursed loudly. Finally, the lock yielded to his ministrations, and he pulled the lid up.
“Come on, help me look,” he said, and smiled.
She smiled back. Their shared secrets were sometimes close to child’s play, lightening her days despite the seriousness of the matters at hand. She supposed it was the pleasure of having a co-conspirator.
