The Vineyard by Maria Duenas

Author:Maria Duenas
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Atria Books

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

That night, Mauro Larrea returned to the Fatou family house in Cádiz. The following day, while conversing with his hosts at the dinner table, with ancestors staring down at them from the walls, churros on the table, and thick chocolate steaming in cups from the new bride’s dowry, Larrea informed them that he had decided to install himself in Jerez.

“I think that’s the most sensible idea; it will be easier for me to negotiate with any potential purchasers from there, and to look after all the matters arising from the transaction.”

“But tell us, Don Mauro, if it’s not being rude,” said Paulita hesitantly, “is the place you’re going to move into in a proper state? Because if there’s anything you need . . .” She paused to look across at her husband, as if seeking his support.

“Of course you have only to ask,” he finished on her behalf. “Utensils, furniture—anything you think we could help you with. We have plenty of everything in our storehouses. The unfortunate deaths of various members of the family in recent years have obliged us to close three houses.”

It would have been so easy to say yes, to accept the young couple’s offer, fill a couple of carts to the brim with solid armchairs and mattresses, china cabinets, screens, and wardrobes, which would make his new home a little more comfortable. But it seemed wiser not to build bridges or create more commitments than were strictly necessary.

“I thank you with all my heart, but I think I’ve imposed myself on you quite enough already.”

Before he had returned to Cádiz, Larrea had instructed Santos Huesos to remain behind in the mansion on Calle de la Tornería. “Manage this well, my lad,” he told him, handing him money before leaving. Their passages from Havana had already cost him a large part of his scant capital, and so they had to be careful about what they spent.

“Go out at first light to see what you can find to spruce up a pair of rooms there for us to live in; we’ll keep the others locked. Find people to clean the place up, buy only the minimum, and see which remaining articles from the previous owners we can still use.”

“I don’t want to contradict you, patrón, but are you sure that you and I are going to live here?”

“What’s wrong, Santos Huesos? It seems to me you’ve become very fussy. Where did you grow up, if not in the mountains of San Miguelito? And me, in a wretched forge. Have you forgotten the nights we spent sleeping on the ground with bonfires at Real de Catorce? And, more recently, the journey we made with those Chinaco soldiers from Mexico City to Veracruz? Get a move on and stop complaining; you sound like an old maid on her way to morning Mass.”

“I’ve no wish to speak of what is none of my business, Don Mauro, but what are people going to think when they discover you’re living in this ruin? They all believe you’re a Mexican silver millionaire.

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