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Chapter one
Catalina
The coffin was expensive. A deep red hardwood, polished, buffed and shined to perfection. So shiny, I could see myself reflected in the earthen wood. Ironic how something so new and refined housed something so dead, old, gone.
Today the coffin was closed, and for good reason. Apparently when they found his body, it was beyond recognizable. My uncle Darius had to identify him by his attire alone, and even then he didn't want to believe it. Fingerprinting later confirmed it was him, but even now I was still in denial. It couldn't be him…. My father.
I dabbed at my eyes, smirking at my so-called smudge proof mascara that was covering my linen handkerchief, as tears flowed anew. I idly wondered where on earth so many tears came from. Surely there would come a point where they would just dry up. No more tears. No more heartache. No more pain. Pain… I remembered when it all started.
It had been one of the sunniest, most beautifully radiant of days when I had received the news. I had been savoring my newest wine blend as I looked over the grapevines lining the hills before me. They looked fantastic, and the new crop would surely bring the enhanced taste our wine was looking for.
“Catalina Rivera-Flores, you’ve done it again! Perfecto!” I swirled the wine in my glass taking a final sip of the liquid that would be the next high-end wine, and admired the beautiful purple bottle I had designed. It would do excellently, and I couldn’t wait to see what the public thought. Although it was early, people were already starting to filter in, ready to partake in one of our many wine tasting tours and to dine at our famous countryside restaurant. It wouldn’t take long to find out the verdict.
My thoughts of an award-winning wine were interrupted when an envelope was handed to me. Taking it absent mindedly, I thanked the deliverer with a quick smile and tore open the envelope. It wasn't until I felt the smooth card and wax beneath my fingertips that I knew it was from my father. His expensive taste in stationary and penchant for the old ways of sealing his message with the family crest of a knight and shield, brought a smile to my lips. It was something we had done since my childhood, and I indulged his messages with sending wax-sealed ones of my own.
I placed my wine down on the banister and gently broke the wax seal, unfolding the letter. At first glance it was way longer than his usual quick snippets of what he was doing or asking what I was up to, but I giggled at his opening endearment of mi changuito, or my little monkey, a nickname he’d called me since I was a child. A deserved nickname, as I was always hanging onto him, especially after my mother’s death.
I frowned as I looked at the date in his perfect calligraphed writing. It was over a year ago, and if it was one thing he's not, it's disorganized. With his high-profile political career and many businesses, he managed to run it all like a well-oiled machine.
Very strange indeed.
* * * * * * *
To my precious Catalina, mi changuito,
I dread the day you must read this letter. You are my most treasured daughter and the only person I can trust. I hope that I don't lose it now once I confide in you what I really do. Please don't think poorly of me when you find out the truth and know that what I have done is out of love for you. To secure a future for you.
To that end, it has always been my wish for you to take on my empire. Keep our empire within the family and carry on our name for many generations to come. I know you are not one for politics and I would not wish for you to follow a path that is not true to your heart, but the other businesses I run are now yours to carry on. Already you have proven yourself an adept businesswoman, running several of our winery estates and leading our restaurant chains. I know you can handle the rest as well, especially with the team I have in place. They are loyal to the family.
I have all their details and my personal information, all my business records, dealings, partnerships, and associations hidden in our special spot. Only you will know where to find it.
For now, know that I love you with all my heart, and I sincerely hope that you find that special someone and live out the rest of your days in blissful happiness. I wish I could be there to share it with you, but know I will be watching over you.
I will love you always.
Your loving father,
Mateo Rivera
xoxo
P.S. Where do ghosts go on vacation? The Boo-hamas.
P.P.S. I bet you thought I forgot the bad dad joke. I hope I always make you smile, even beyond the grave.
* * * * * * *
I chuckled, shaking my head. One thing was for sure, his jokes, as lame as they were, were actually getting funnier. I reached into the back pocket of my jeans and hit my father's number to call him.
What on earth was with the outdated letter?It sounded like he was going somewhere and getting sentimental about it. I waited patiently, taking a deep breath. As usual, it went straight through to voicemail. I waited for the beep.
"Papa, it's me, Cat. Can you please call me back when you get this. I just received a very strange letter from you. Okay, I love you. Bye."
I didn't know then that that voicemail recording would be the last time I would hear my father's voice. An hour later, I got the call from Uncle Darius that he was dead. And we didn't even know why.
I was dumbfounded. Numb. Random thoughts tumbling through my head.
This could not be happening. How could it have happened? It couldn't be real. Could it? No. No. It was all a mistake. A really big, huge mistake. And what did this mean? Murdered? How? Who? And why would anyone want to hurt my father?
