Chapter 15

Sebastian stared at the breakfast sitting in front of him: a piece of stale bread, a hard-boiled egg, and a watered-down coffee, no milk. Blowing on the coffee was unnecessary; he hadn’t warmed it long enough. It was flat-out cold. He bit a corner of the bread, but it was about as appealing as chewing on a shoe sole. The egg wasn’t any better; the yolk had turned green from overcooking it. His stomach growled in protest.

“Where is Juanita? I need a strong coffee,” his mother said as she walked into the dining room—her hand resting on her forehead, no makeup on, and still wearing her golden robe.

“You fired her.”

She tied the robe’s belt around her waist. “I did?”

“Last night, remember? She couldn’t find your shoes for the party.”

His mother sat down. “Of course I remember. She was so incompetent.” She sighed. “I guess I’m going to have to find another maid.”

Sebastian ditched the bread. “No, you’re not.”

“What?” Her eyes widened. “Am I supposed to cut down on that, too? You already took my chauffeur and sold your father’s car!”

“What do you expect me to do? Papá left me nothing but debt. Besides, a chauffer in San Isidro is unnecessary. One car for the both of us is enough. I can drive you around. Or teach you, if you’d like.”

She picked up Sebastian’s cup with a bitter laugh. “You expect me, Ofelia Vásconez de Rivas, to drive? I suppose you want me to cook and clean, too?”

“I told you, it would only be for a short time, until I pay off our debt.”

She took a sip from Sebastian’s coffee and grimaced. “Fire someone from the paper!”

“I already did!”

“I’m not cooking or cleaning. I don’t even know how.”

He straightened out his collar. “Fine. I’ll cook and clean.”

Smirking, she pointed at Sebastian’s breakfast. “You call that cooking?”

Sebastian rubbed his temple. What was he going to do with this woman?

“Sebas, mi amor, think about it. This is a big house. There is no way I can keep it without help.” She flashed her red nails.

He sighed. “Fine, let me think about it. But I’m making you a budget.”

“Fine,” she said, though they both knew she wasn’t going to follow a budget. “But let’s change the subject. I hate talking about money. What did you think about last night?”

He had nothing to say about last night, at least not to her.

“I thought Claudia looked lovely,” she said. “What a difference with that … Liliana, Lili, whatever her name is. I can’t believe María Teresa raised a daughter like that. Did you see the dress she was wearing? That cleavage, my God!”

Cleavage? Of course, Sebastian hadn’t been able to look at anything else the entire evening. He tried to picture what his fiancée had been wearing, but couldn’t remember.

“That girl is a walking catastrophe! She tripped twice with her heels.”

Sebastian stood up. Hunger was preferable to listening to his mother. He hated the spiteful tone in her voice, the innate harshness women had toward each other. She didn’t even know this girl and was already criticizing her.

He headed for the foyer, nearly tripping over his mother’s latest purchase: a metal sculpture of a life-sized angel so ugly that initially Sebastian had thought it was the Devil himself—until he realized it was missing the horns and the tail. His mother had bought it the day after his father’s funeral. Sebastian didn’t understand how she could’ve thought about her art collection the day after she buried her husband of nearly thirty years.

In the courtyard, he walked by the concrete fountain and absently wet his fingers with the cold water, the way he did every morning.

He’d finally been able to place that girl: she was the one who entered the cheap hotel with Javier. Seeing her with Claudia’s brother last night reminded him of where he’d seen her first. And it only meant one thing: Javier and Liliana were lovers. It was just a matter of watching how possessively he held her arm, the way he pulled the chair out for her, and how he constantly paid her attention. But it must be a secret. Rafael and Ana would never consent to having Javier’s girlfriend under their same roof. The only logical conclusion was that the family didn’t know about their relationship, which was probably why the two of them met at hotels. But why wouldn’t Javier just propose? Why would he take a family friend to a hotel, and such a nasty one at that? The other detail that didn’t fit into the equation was Claudia’s explanation for Lili’s visit. She’d said her family had sent her to San Isidro to keep her away from her married lover, yet Javier was single. Or did she mean another lover?

Sebastian lit a cigarette, contemplating the circles of smoke as they dissolved with the air. He’d known Javier since their high school days. Back then, his future brother-in-law had had the reputation of being a womanizer. Sebastian could understand that; he could understand certain biological urges, too. But this was different. Liliana was the daughter of Ana Platas’s best friend, and yet he was treating her like an easy woman.

What a pity—such a sweet girl. Sebastian had been touched by the way she cared for Mamá Blanca last night—rubbing the lady’s arm during dinner, covering her with a wool poncho when she fell asleep in the living room, talking to her in a soothing voice. He’d never known a woman to be so gentle. Not even Claudia.

Sebastian stopped in front of the Iglesia de Santo Domingo as soon as he spotted Claudia’s unmistakable gait outside the church’s double doors. Sometimes, like today, he had to look at her feet to make sure she was stepping on the ground and not floating. The grace of her movements had always fascinated him. But not today. He didn’t want to approach her, especially because that girl, Liliana, was walking beside her.

He waited by the light post until the girls got lost among the crowd, in the direction of the Platas home.