“All right. And so?”
“I was of the opinion that you would need to keep that fact in mind as I read the present document. It is very brief, with an attachment listing the allowances and other specific bequests. I will read those to you. The principal document states, I name as my only heir and the heir of all my assets my beloved husband Manuel Ortigosa.” He paused. “That is the entire text.”
For a couple of seconds time seemed to have stopped. The silence was absolute. Then Gri?án raised the scroll of papers held in his hand like a baton and gestured toward where Manuel was seated.
Everyone turned to look at him. The child started applauding.
The old woman stood up, went to the little boy, and slapped him. “Teach this child manners, or he’ll wind up like his father!” she hissed at the young woman.
The dowager marquess left the room without another word. The boy’s pursed lips opened in a wail, and the embarrassed young woman quickly gathered him into her arms. The new marquis got up, took the child from her, hugged him, and kissed the flaming red spot on his cheek.
“I’m very sorry,” he said, without addressing anyone in particular. “You must excuse my mother. She is in delicate health.”
He left carrying the little boy, who was still in tears. His pale wife followed him. The young woman was the only one who turned for a moment to say goodbye before leaving the room, leaving Manuel with the feeling that something extraordinary and beyond his comprehension had just taken place before his eyes.
Gri?án removed his spectacles and looked at him, letting out his breath in a low whistle.
“That’s why I’m here,” Manuel said, suddenly enlightened.
Gri?án nodded. “As I told you, they don’t mix. Don’t be alarmed by their reaction; one could hardly expect otherwise. As I explained, all this was as much a surprise for them as for you, since álvaro hid much of his life from them. Perhaps the news about their money was something of a shock. But that’s the extent of it.” Gri?án tilted his head to one side, reflecting. “Perhaps the only one disturbed by the fact they won’t have their own fortune is the dowager marquess, even though she’s lived that way half her life thanks to the ‘abilities’ of her husband.” He grimaced. “The others won’t trouble you. They’ve never been a problem. álvaro was quick to size them up: as long as their allowances are big enough to live in the style to which they’re accustomed, they’ll be content. Knowing that, álvaro provided for annual increases that will keep them more than satisfied. Of course, he also provided for the operating costs of the manor of As Grileiras and the Arousa summer house.”
He got up and handed the documents to the patiently waiting Doval, who slipped them into the portfolio. Gri?án came around the table, negotiated his way through the chairs, repositioned one, and seated himself next to Manuel.
“I saw earlier they had no idea álvaro was married. Once they come to terms with that fact, however, they’ll see it was logical for him to will his fortune to you, especially considering that he used his own money to put affairs in order. He paid off family debts from the fortune he earned with his brilliant successes in marketing and public relations. Anyone with any brains at all will see it’s entirely logical that the fortune álvaro made as a married man should go to his spouse.”
He shook his head. “Logic is one thing, however, quite apart from the immense resentment they must feel upon finding that they now depend financially upon someone from outside the family, and I mean ‘outside’ as they conceive of it. But they’ll get used to it. They already adapted when the father willed the businesses and holdings to álvaro even though they’d assumed he would be disinherited.” He pursed his lips. “Maybe Santiago will feel a bit disappointed at inheriting a title without a fortune, but I guarantee you he’ll pose no problems. He’s never had the least interest in business. That’s why I always said that the old marquis never considered willing the holdings to him.”
“They seemed to be very wealthy,” Manuel said tentatively.
“Well, now you’re the wealthy one,” the executor reminded him.
“I mean, after all, not all noble families are rich. Where did the family fortune come from? What were the father’s business interests?”
“As I said, this is one of the most important noble families of Galicia. Its history goes back hundreds of years, and from the very first it was very closely allied with the Church. They’re owners of vast land holdings, and they own an extensive and important art collection.”
“Like most of Spain’s noble families,” Manuel commented. “Always reluctant to part with their works of art. And ownership of an enormous amount of land between Lugo and Ourense probably means more expenditures than income. Unless it’s properly administered.”
Gri?án appeared impressed. “I forgot that you were a historian. Indeed, many noble families have wound up in financial difficulty for those very reasons, but álvaro’s father was very fortunate in business dealings as a young man. He was granted concessions, agricultural land, commissions. Unfortunately he was less successful in preserving his wealth than he was in acquiring it.”
Manuel was intrigued. That kind of talk could be risky for a man in Gri?án’s position. The implications were obvious. “In other words, business dealings during the decades of the forties, fifties, and sixties. During the Franco era.” Gri?án nodded almost imperceptibly, so Manuel went on. “Nobles who maintained their allegiance to the royal family in exile didn’t do as well back then.”
“The marquis managed to accumulate a considerable fortune, but times change. The usual unfortunate story: extravagant spending, bad business deals, gambling. There were rumors he maintained at least a couple of mistresses in grand style. He may not have had such a good eye for investments in his later years, but he was no fool. He always found a way to maintain his family in the comfortable circumstances they were used to. But then the upper classes always do, don’t they?”
Manuel remembered the family’s reaction in the meeting room. “Santiago might have been offended.”
The administrator waved his hand in a sign of dismissal. “The old marquis knew his middle son had no head for business. People tell stories about terrible public humiliations the old man subjected him to. It’s true the old marquis found álvaro’s inclinations unacceptable, but he knew his eldest would be capable of taking care of the family. He also knew álvaro had more talent in his little finger than all the rest of them combined.” He smiled. “One doesn’t cancel the other, but as I said, the man was obsessed by the duty of preserving the honor of the family name, which in the last analysis means maintaining the family lifestyle. He was ready to do anything for that, including willing it all to álvaro.” Gri?án nodded thoughtfully. “The old fox knew what he was doing. In three years álvaro not only cleaned up the estate’s finances but also turned around disastrous operations in agriculture and wine production. He made them extremely profitable.”
“What I don’t understand is how he managed those businesses from Madrid,” Manuel said almost to himself. He shook his head in amazement.
“By telephone, most of the time. álvaro knew exactly what changes had to be made. My office provided him a team for legal counsel, administration, and management through the network of firms that regularly work with us, a team of real professionals. We all knew what had to be done, and whenever some key decision or binding commitment had to be made, I was the one to consult him via his private number. Not even the general manager had it. I served as the channel of communication.”
“And the family?” Manuel asked, indicating the seats they’d occupied.