“What are you doing here?”
My mind went blank. I had a speech planned. I knew exactly what and how I was going to say it, but the whole, rehearsed speech died on my lips.
“Visiting.” Alberto reentered the room, followed by Rosita carrying a metal tray with a teapot and three porcelain cups. The color drained from her face when she saw Angélica and me in the same room. Alberto spoke louder, with an almost annoyed tone, “What else would she be doing?”
“I don’t know,” Angélica said. “Maybe she wants more money?”
“Oh, stop it, Angélica. Haven’t you caused enough damage already?” He turned toward Rosita. “Just set that tray on the table and leave, please.”
Alberto sounded more assertive than ever. Gone was the youthful friendliness I’d seen at the bar when I’d just met him.
“I have caused damage?” Angélica said.
“What do you call that lawsuit you made us sign?” he said.
“Nobody forced you.”
“You took advantage of our vulnerable state. We were confused, angry, hurt.”
I stood up. “Please. I didn’t come here to fight. I don’t want to cause more conflict between you. Between us.”
“Then what do you want?” Angélica said, the veins in her forehead visible.
“I want . . . I came to make a truce.”
The three of them stood silent.
“It was wrong of me to deceive you. I should have been less of a coward and confronted you with the truth of what happened on the ship, but I was so angry, so filled with hatred, with fear.” I squeezed my hands together. “But then, I got to know all of you, to like you. I didn’t realize until much later that none of you were at fault over what happened to my husband. None of you ever had any intention to cause me harm. I now see that a big injustice had been committed against you, against all of us. Our father should have left us an equal share of the money and properties. It wasn’t your fault that he abandoned me. I now understand your frustration.”
“Nice thing to say now that you’ve lost everything,” Angélica said.
“I didn’t lose everything. All of us did. But you know, the loss of the plantation, of that dream I’d had for so long, was nothing compared to”—my voice broke—“losing my family.”
Angélica lowered her gaze, squeezing the package in her hands.
“I understand if you never want to see me again.” I searched through my purse, avoiding their gazes. “I caused you a lot of harm, even if I didn’t intend to.” I removed a key from my purse’s inner pocket and set in on the coffee table. “Here’s the key to the hacienda. You may do with it whatever you choose. I know it’s not worth much anymore, but maybe one day, the plantation will rise again.” I dried the tears from my cheeks. “At any rate, it’s not fair that you should live in this tiny house any longer.”
None of them said a word as I snapped my purse shut and walked out of their house with the fear that this might be the last time I would ever see my siblings.
EPILOGUE
Vinces, 1922
The cacao beans were almost ready. The roaster my grandmother had invented was truly wonderful. I’d refused to use it back in Spain because I kept it as an heirloom—a souvenir from my grandmother to be revered and admired as an art piece. But ever since La Cordobesa had sent it to me across the ocean and the contraption had gone through perilous waters and an uncertain destiny aboard two transcontinental ships, I was so grateful to see it again that I’d installed it in my new chocolatería and had been using it faithfully.
I’d gotten back into the habit of singing zarzuelas aloud, and my new assistant, Mayra, had also acquired La Cordobesa’s old (bad) habit of sticking cotton balls in her ears. I didn’t care because at least Alberto’s two-year-old son, Armandito, seemed to enjoy my singing and often followed me around the kitchen, learning the lyrics of my songs, or asking me over and over again all the ingredients in my truffles, which he loved more than life itself.
“Chocolate, butter, leche,” he recited in baby-talk.
How I loved those round, rosy cheeks of his—I could watch him all day long. Although Mayra had initially been guarded with me because her cousin Elisa had ended up in prison, she eventually understood that it had been Elisa’s own doing, not anything I’d done.
It also helped that I encouraged Alberto, slightly, to marry her. I must admit it wasn’t easy. It took a while for him to make the decision to marry Mayra—after all, he’d been preparing to be a priest for years—but he finally came to terms with his feelings for Mayra and decided to give Armandito a family.
After the cacao industry collapsed in the region, most of the French landowners returned to Europe, including Laurent and Angélica. The four of us sold our land and hacienda to Don Fernando del Río, who decided to start a new cultivation from scratch. He tore down the old, infested trees, and replanted new ones. It was a project that might take years to succeed, but that was no longer our concern.
With the money from the sale, Angélica bought tickets to Europe and planned to spend the next few months traveling all over the Old Continent. She seemed more than a little excited to embark on this new adventure and even smiled at me the last time I’d seen her.
Begrudgingly, the two of us had realized we had more in common than we ever thought: our sense of adventure, our impatience for the town’s tattletales, even a dislike for beets. It was bittersweet that once I started to know her and make amends, she had to leave.