“Are you warning me they’ll be hostile?”
“Hostile? No. They’ll be frigid. They don’t mix with others; it’s like oil and water. You shouldn’t take it amiss. It’s nothing personal.” He peered through the blinds. “álvaro entrusted me with his affairs from the day he came into the title and the estate. My office provides legal and management advice as well as a certified accountant who makes sure the books are balanced and all the numbers, taxes, and donations are properly recorded. álvaro’s father had attended to that with the help of an attorney who was an old friend of the family.” He shook his head. “The attorney ran all the businesses. Back then they occasionally came to consult me about the manor house and the agricultural holdings. More than once I had to deal with affairs more domestic in nature, and still today every time I run into them I have the impression that in their eyes I’m nothing but a servant. A sort of lackey. You’ll see what I mean.” He shrugged. “That’s their attitude toward everyone outside the family.”
“Was álvaro like that as well?”
Gri?án looked back at him from the door. “Of course not. No, álvaro was a businessman. A very wealthy man in his own right. He had his two feet planted firmly on the ground, and he was brimming with ideas about how to run the place.” For a moment he appeared lost in thought. “I’m afraid that on more than one occasion his ingenuity surpassed my understanding. He always wound up surprising me with the outcomes. Over the past three years the Mu?iz de Dávila account has become the most important of all those we manage.” He gave Manuel a confident smile. “And I hope it will continue to be so.” He looked out at the adjoining room, stood, and motioned sharply for Manuel to accompany him.
Manuel gave a puff of annoyance and went to join the group.
A number of people were taking seats in the adjoining room. An elderly woman, frail and dressed in black, probably in her seventies, was escorted by a man who was obviously álvaro’s brother. The gentleman was shorter and stockier and his features were less delicate, but he had the same chestnut hair and green eyes as álvaro. His right hand was in a cast.
“The old woman is the mother, and as you’ve probably guessed, the man is álvaro’s brother, the new marquis. The woman with him is his wife, Catarina; she comes from a noble family that’s fallen on hard times. They’ve barely managed to hold on to the family mansion. But theirs is also a name of renown. It’s not surprising that the dowager marquess adores her.”
A little boy perhaps three years old came running into the room chased by a young woman who was extremely thin but very good-looking. The boy zigzagged through the chairs and wrapped himself around the legs of álvaro’s brother. The man lifted him high in the air and provoked shrieks of laughter from the child. The elderly lady glared at the young woman, who responded with a shrug and a cheerful smile.
“The girl is Elisa. She was engaged to Fran, the youngest son. She was a model or a beauty queen, something to do with fashion in any case, and the boy is little Samuel, Fran’s son and the only offspring of the family, at least for the moment.” He gestured toward Catarina, who was delightedly contemplating the child and her husband, who without paying attention to the old lady’s indignation was tickling the youngster. Little Samuel shrieked and twisted about in the man’s arms. “Although they hadn’t yet married, because of the child, Elisa has been living with them at the manor since Fran’s death.”
“Do they know I’m here today?”
“Considering the circumstances, I was obliged to inform them of your existence, just as it’s my duty to explain things to you. So they know about you, but they don’t know why.”
“And tell me: Why am I here today?” Manuel didn’t bother to hide his curiosity.
“You’ll find out almost immediately,” Gri?án replied. He looked out at the room where Doval had already taken a seat to one side of the table facing the rows of chairs. He opened the door. “We’re all here. Shall we go in?”
Manuel took the seat in the back of the room that Gri?án had reserved for him. It gave him the advantage of seeing everyone there without feeling exposed. He was grateful for Gri?án’s precaution, even though it wasn’t enough to suppress the nausea knotted in his stomach or the clammy feeling of his palms. He wiped them on his trouser legs in an unsuccessful effort to dry them and asked himself again what the hell he was doing there. How would these people react when he had to look them in the face?
The executor, Gri?án, strode through the rows of chairs without a word. Clearly conscious of the ceremonial nature of the occasion, he stood behind the table. “First of all, both se?or Doval and I wish to express our deepest sympathy to you for the terrible loss you have just sustained.” He paused and carefully seated himself as Doval opened an imposing leather portfolio, extracted a large envelope, and handed it to him. “As you are aware, I was charged with administering the affairs of don álvaro Mu?iz de Dávila, Marquis of Santo Tomé, and I am the executor of his will.” He took a sheaf of documents from the envelope. “I have invited you here for the reading of the last wishes of don álvaro Mu?iz de Dávila before seeing to the execution of the instructions of his will. As I previously informed you, this will take some time, given the complexity and the number of holdings that constitute his estate. The document I am about to read is not his legal will, strictly speaking, but it does provide important information. Allow me to add that it faithfully reflects the provisions of the will. It was the desire of the honorable marquis that this be read immediately in the event of his death. Which has come to pass.” He put on spectacles that had been positioned on the table and looked about to see if there was any objection. When he saw none, he continued. “Before I proceed with the reading, I am obliged to outline for you certain relevant circumstances I believe unknown to you. You are not unaware of the state of the family finances following the death of the previous marquis. A series of unfortunate business decisions and investments had left your fortune severely reduced, and a number of unpaid mortgage obligations and other overdue debts were about to result in foreclosures of all of the real estate, including the manor of As Grileiras, the Arousa summer house, and the vineyards and winery in Ribeira Sacra.”
The old lady cleared her throat, obviously annoyed. “I don’t think it’s necessary to go into details. We all know the situation my husband left us in.” Her voice was sharp. She directed an angry look at the child. Bored and seated on a chair too tall for him, he was kicking his feet.
Gri?án nodded, looking at her over his reading glasses. “Very well. Over the past three years don álvaro undertook a heroic effort and put his personal fortune at risk, against my advice, I have to acknowledge, in order to forestall the catastrophe that was about to befall you. He bought up all the loans, renegotiated the mortgages, paid them off, and brought all of the various business affairs under professional management. As of today the estate is free of debt. Don álvaro has been providing family members with monthly allowances, and he has instructed that these are to continue. And there is an endowment to finance the education of your little Samuel.” He paused. “I take the time to explain these matters so that it is clear that don álvaro purchased, settled, and paid all family debts with his own funds.”
Both the matriarch and the new marquis nodded in acknowledgment.
“And that as a result, all of the real estate holdings became his personal property.”
The mother and son exchanged a glance. There was an uneasy stir in the room.
“What does that mean?” the son asked.
“It means that all of the land and buildings to which banks and creditors had held title became the personal property of your brother.”