"Of course. Do you need anything?”
"No, Father. I ate on the plane, and my stomach is a little . . . queasy still," I said. "Thank you, though."
"All right, then. Well, good night, Luisa. It's good to have you home. I’ll be going out later. There is some business I need to attend to in the Centro district," he said, going back to his chair and sitting down. The Mendosas controlled all of the vice in the Centro district of Porto Alegre, which was the nighttime hub of the city. Of course, for my father, business could have also been sampling the wares of the ladies who worked in the Centro, or actually doing real business—it was never quite clear.
Up in my room, I turned on my computer, waiting the interminable time it took for it to connect to the Internet. I’d gotten spoiled by American standards, where fast Wi-Fi was available at nearly every street corner coffee shop with nearly instant connections. In Porto Alegre, that wasn't the case, and even the expensive line my father paid for paled in comparison to what I'd gotten used to in Seattle.
Finally, I opened my email, hoping to see a message from Tomasso. I waited while my system checked for new messages and smiled when I saw an unread message.
Dear Luisa,
You've only been in the air a few hours, but my day feels so different knowing I won't be seeing your dark eyes or the golden shine of your hair. I actually fell asleep in the car coming home from SeaTac, so I can't say much other than my sleep was restless, and I woke up wishing that I had you in my arms.
I'm sure that your flight was better than how you came up, and I hope you were able to rest some. I checked the time difference between us, and it's not all that bad. When you can, I'd like to set up a video call, even if it's just to talk and share stories. I want to know what Porto Alegre's like, how your days have been, everything. Most of all, I want to see your beautiful face and to talk about how we can make the impossible possible.
In any case, when you can, send me a message, just telling me that you made it safe, and that I wasn't hallucinating this morning with what was said between us.
Tell me that I did tell you I love you. Talk later.
Tomasso
I read the letter twice and smiled as I hit the button to reply.
Dear Tomasso,
The first thing I did when I got to my room was check my email, and I had to hold back tears when I saw your letter. To say it was the highlight of my evening is an understatement.
No, you weren't hallucinating. My only regret of the past few weeks has been that I waited so long to tell you how I felt—like it was some sort of bad luck to give voice to how we felt.
Making the impossible possible? If anyone can do it, I think it is you. And if I get the chance to be there with you while you do it, that would make me the luckiest woman in the world.
As soon as I know what father has in store for me, we’ll set up a time to talk. I know he’s going to be difficult, but we’ll deal with it.
I love you too.
Luisa
For the next month, life fell back into a boring, if comfortable, routine. Tomasso and I would exchange emails on a daily basis unless our schedules had us going out of contact for some reason or another. My father, after picking my brain as best he could for insight on his new business partner—he came away with a warier respect for Carlo Bertoli than he had before—had sent me back to the legitimate side of the family business, which often involved me spending large amounts of time at our home outside Porto Alegre.
My brothers thought that being sent to the countryside was punishment, but for me, it was what I needed. It got me away from my brothers and their shenanigans. Eduardo fancied himself the next leader of our family, and as such, he was even more insufferable than Vincente in his own arrogance, while Mateus was away at private school and too busy to get up to too much trouble. Still, not having to deal with them was nice, and the extra added bit of privacy was exactly what I needed. Tomasso and I were able to video chat about once a week, and I was able to get back into my work.
My main responsibility was to check in with the various rancheros and the gauchos who worked for the Mendosa family.
I’d just gotten back from my most far-flung drive when I turned on my computer and saw that a major storm was coming in, expecting to hit within a few hours. I fired up my email, hoping to get one last message out.
Dear Tomasso,
I just got back from a trip out to one of the ranches. I'd love to tell you about it, but a storm is coming. I might be dropping off the Net for a while—storms like this can damage our infrastructure. Don't worry, though. I'll be safe and sound, and I’ll be snug and safe in bed. If you're a good boy, I might just tell you what I did to pass the time while the electricity was out.
I love you.
Luisa