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Juanita bows her head and sees herself out. Alone again, I move to the small altar in the corner, lighting a candle for my father. The flame dances, casting shadows on the walls.
"Guide me, Papa," I whisper. "I still have so much to learn."
With a final prayer, I straighten my back and head upstairs to clean and change. Once dressed in a simple black dress, I am ready to receive my father's lawyer. I make my way down the stairs and along a hallway lined with family portraits stretching back several generations. My heels click sharply against the tile floors, echoing through the empty halls.
As I near the sitting room, I see a man standing stiffly by the door, hands clasped behind his back. He is dressed in a crisp black suit, with a leather briefcase at his feet.
"Señorita Torres," he says with a slight bow of his head. "I am Javier Nuñez, your father's attorney. I am sorry we have to meet under these circumstances. Please accept my condolences.Por favor acepte mis condolencias."
"Thank you. Please, come in," I reply, pushing open the heavy wooden door.
The familiar smell of aged leather, rich mahogany, and cigar smoke washes over me. I blink back fresh tears, willing myself to remain composed.
Javier offers his condolences as he walks briskly over to the massive coffee table and begins removing documents from his briefcase. I take a seat across from him in one of the large leather recliners.
"There is much to discuss," he says without preamble. "First, your father's will."
He passes a thick stack of papers across the desk. With a slightly trembling hand, I accept them.
"As expected, since your mother's passing, you are the sole heir to the Torres Tequila Company.," Javier continues. "However, the board will want assurances that you are prepared to lead."
I nod silently, skimming the legal jargon on the page. This is what I have been groomed for my entire life. I will not let my father down.
"There are also significant holdings in property and other investments," he adds.
"I understand," I reply evenly. "What is the net worth of the holdings I am to inherit?"
"4.2 billion American dollars. A great responsibility has been placed on your shoulders, señorita Torres. I had your father's trust and will serve you with the same loyalty."
We spend the next hour reviewing assets, taxes, and the complex inner workings of the company. My mind spins but I force myself to focus.
Finally Javier snaps his briefcase shut and stands. "I will be in touch soon with the board members.Hasta entonces, si tienes alguna pregunta, no dudes en llamarme. Until then, if you have any questions, please don't hesitate to call me. My condolences again,señorita."
I walk him to the door, my new reality sinking in. Alone at last, having held strong for so long, I decided to sit in here for a few more minutes before going to check on the arrangements.
The house feels empty without his presence. Memories flood my mind.
His favorite brandy sits on the bar, the smell as familiar as his smile. I run my fingers over the leather-bound books, the collections of art and artifacts from our family's generations in the tequila business. So much history lives within these walls.
I gaze out the window at the terraced hills blanketed in blue agave. Workers once again tend the crops that are the lifeblood of our company. Papa built this empire from the earth itself, through years of toil and determination.
Now it is my duty to steer our destiny.
I pour two glasses of brandy, setting one aside in honor of my father.
"Salud, Papa." I say softly before taking a sip.
There is a quiet knock at the door. Juanita enters, her eyes full of sympathy. "Puedo traerle algo, mija?" Can I bring you anything?
I shake my head with a sad smile. "Gracias, pero estoy bien." Thank you, but I'm okay.
She has been like a second mother to me since Mama passed. Now we must comfort each other during this difficult transition.
Juanita nods in understanding."Llámeme si necesita algo. Estaré cerca."Call me if you need anything. I'll be close by.
As she leaves, I take a deep breath and steady myself. There are arrangements to be made and calls to be taken. The world keeps turning even as my own has been shaken.
The phone rings and I pick it up with a heavy heart. As people who knew my Papa called to express their sympathies, my voice begin to waver, but I push through.
