“Should we delay the dinner for another week?” asked Enrique.
“I think not. Consider presenting the concept of a rail line and add the alternate route as a possibility. The brush is thick, and even walking the distance was difficult.”
“Then we need to work on finalizing those figures,” said Enrique. “Lola, would you please join us in the library?”
Lola felt Jacoba’s dark glowering eyes drill into her back as she followed the men into the library. The three worked hard and long that night. Just as Lola felt she could not stay awake any longer, Enrique announced that he was satisfied with the results.
Enrique was pleased with the estimates and the proposal for the new rail line. The next night, after he had consumed several glasses of wine with his meal, he told Jacoba that Lola not only had a way with numbers, but with words as well. He ignored his wife’s strained face. “We have a much more persuasive argument because of her. Lola’s a godsend.”
Relieved that her work on the project was completed, Lola excused herself when the coffee was served and retreated upstairs for the evening. The next night she pleaded headache and asked to dine upstairs. Of course the children would dine with her.
The following morning James stopped at Lola’s office. “I missed you and your children at dinner last night. I hope you weren’t ill.”
“Just a small headache. Thank you for your concern.”
“Then I hope to see you and your lovely children at supper tonight.” He turned and left.
Lola continued her work with a bemused smile on her face. After work she walked toward the house, anticipating her time with the children. Rosa met her at the door and told her that Enrique was in the library and wanted to speak with her.
There was a tray with coffee on his desk. “Close the door and sit down.” Enrique poured coffee for them both. Characteristically, he wasted no time with pleasantries. “Are you still afraid of Jacoba?”
“Yes, I am.” The words came out more firmly than she expected.
“Why? Surely not because she taught Estela bad words she didn’t even understand.”
“I think I’ve always been afraid of her. She gets angry whenever you pay attention to me, and when Jacoba’s angry I’m never sure what she’ll do—or when.”
“Jacoba’s father was a Spaniard, and we never treated her as a servant. It gave your mother company to have another woman sit with her as they sewed and embroidered in the afternoons. Even when your sisters became quite accomplished seamstresses, Jacoba made herself useful in many ways.” Enrique paused and Lola thought he was thinking of a happier time. She did not interrupt.
Enrique looked at Lola and opened his mouth to speak, but instead lifted his cup and drained the last of his coffee. “I make no apologies. I thought Jacoba was carrying my child when I married her. I wanted a son.” His face changed to the icy cold anger that Lola had seen strike grown men dumb with fear. He pushed back his chair and paced around the room. “I want you to know that Jacoba understands she’s only safe as long as she pleases me. You have no reason to fear her. She is nothing.” He turned and faced Lola. “That’s all I had to say.”
“I appreciate your confidence.” It was a clear dismissal, but it left Lola more puzzled than before. The story he told didn’t explain anything, except, perhaps, why he had married Jacoba. Lola rose to leave.
“Wait, there was one more thing.” Lola returned to her seat. “Señor Atkins thinks very highly of you.”
“Thank you.” Another puzzling statement.
“Do you like him?”
“He’s pleasant enough. I haven’t really thought about it.”
“Perhaps...” Enrique seemed to think better of saying more. “Thank you, Lola. I’m sure your children are waiting for you.”
Lola kept going over the curious conversation with her father. “She is nothing,” she repeated to herself. What did he mean? That she means nothing to him anymore? That she never meant anything to him? That she was useless since she could not bear him a son? Lola smiled to think of Jacoba as a barren sow that would become bacon, ham, and pork chops. When the children settled down for their afternoon nap, she put on her hat and started walking toward the Cholo village. One person on this plantation was sure to have the answers.
To Lola’s disappointment, Juan was not expected home for the noon meal. She had a glass of lemonade with Juan’s wife and left word that she wanted to speak to him at his convenience. She walked back to the house, where she was greeted by Rosa looking flushed with her hair escaping her usually neat bun and falling into her eyes.
“What’s the matter, Rosa?”
“Señora Jacoba’s gone mad!” Rosa whispered. “She’s determined that there won’t be one thing for your sisters to criticize when they come tomorrow—if it kills us all.”
Lola was relieved that Rosa did not mean Jacoba had literally gone mad. “I’ll go and see about helping upstairs.” Rosa hurried off in the direction of Jacoba’s voice. Lola understood Jacoba’s anxiety. She told herself that she had no need to be nervous about the dinner, but her memories of the time she had spent with Victoria were too strong for comfort. She was going to be judged; she knew it. She worried that her father would upset the older sisters by giving her too big a role on the project; she worried that her children wouldn’t behave well enough to suit them; she worried that she’d say something unladylike. Now she had a new worry—why had her father asked if she liked James? She shelved that one to worry about later.
Lola’s heart lifted when she came down the stairs that evening and saw her father talking with James. Enrique looked every inch the proud aristocrat—right down to his highly polished shoes. The rest of the evening, however, proved to be as difficult as Lola had imagined.
Enrique introduced James as a brilliant engineer that had worked on the much-anticipated Panama Canal. It wasn’t until dessert that he brought up the topic of a private rail line. Victoria pursed her lips and dismissed the idea immediately as totally impractical. Lola covered her mouth with her napkin to keep from laughing as Amelia immediately contradicted her sister. Ernestina got a frightened-rabbit expression on her face as she looked at her two older sisters.
Enrique gave his eldest daughter a cold stare, plainly holding his temper in check. Lola held her breath when James stepped between father and daughter. “Your father’s right; a rail line will make it possible for you to expand your markets, and your land will be more profitable. We’ve worked up the costs and—” Victoria held up her hand and stopped him in mid-sentence.
“Please, spare us. I retract my remark. However, I don’t think that numbers and profit are suitable topics to discuss at the table. You may talk numbers when the ladies have withdrawn to the sitting room.”
James closed his mouth, and Lola saw his cheeks color at what could only be seen as a reproof of his behavior.
“Perhaps we could have coffee in the sitting room?” suggested Lola catching Rosa’s eye. Rosa nodded and placed a bottle of brandy in front of Enrique. To Lola’s relief, Jacoba rose and the sisters had no choice but to do likewise.
To Lola’s chagrin, once the coffee was served Victoria refused to talk about anything beyond her new pianoforte and her offspring’s amazing talent and ability. Lola tried in vain to introduce the subject of the rail line. Ernestina’s hand moved in her lap and Lola realized she was holding her rosary, unsuccessfully hidden beneath a lace handkerchief. Amelia was fighting to stay awake. Lola nearly groaned when Jacoba entered into the conversation with enthusiasm. Lola picked up her coffee, preparing to move to a chair nearer Amelia, when Jacoba’s words caught her attention.
“You can have all the latest fashions as soon as they hit the capital. Enrique says we’ll have a small passenger car that can be pulled along with the freight car any time we want to spend time in the city or even Lima. We can park it off on a spur and spend the night. Think of the cultural advantages of living near a city without being exposed to the seamier side of city lif
e.” Victoria smiled and nodded. Jacoba leaned toward Victoria and continued speaking in a low voice. Lola couldn’t understand the words, but she saw Victoria’s smile widen as she nodded again. Strange, Victoria never wasted a smile on Jacoba before. She looked to see if Amelia had heard the conversation, but Amelia was losing her battle with sleep.
“Amelia, dear,” Lola said, remembering her duty, “we haven’t heard anything about your lovely children this evening.”
“My children are doing well, thank you. Mateo is already helping manage the farm. It is all very domestic and ordinary. My children seem to lack any preternatural talents or abilities.” She gave Victoria an unpleasant look. “What about you, Lola? It must be difficult to raise two children without a husband. Children need a man’s firm hand sometimes.”
Lola smiled as sweetly as possible. “If my children need a firmer hand than mine, Papa will be here. Surely you remember that his is quite firm.” She heard a sniff from Victoria. Lola was grateful to retire when the evening ended. She rose early the next morning to help Pilar with the picnic breakfast that was to be served after Sunday Mass. The children would join the adults for breakfast, and Jacoba had actually agreed with Pilar that a picnic was the best idea.
Juan was helping Roberto set up trestle tables. Lola helped carry plates, glasses, flatware, and even the chairs and stools. On one of her trips to the tables, she passed Juan heading back toward the house.
“Can you come to your office after they leave?” he asked without turning his head. She said she’d be there and continued her work.
The morning went surprisingly well. Lola saw Jacoba and Victoria laughing together. Maybe that was a good thing, thought Lola. Maybe if Jacoba feels accepted she will be less vindictive. When the sisters and their families finally left, Lola wanted nothing more than to go upstairs and take a siesta, but she picked up a few pieces of fruit and started walking toward her office.
“Juan, it’s good of you to give up your Sunday afternoon to talk with me. I appreciate it.” Lola told Juan that her father assured her she had nothing to fear from Jacoba. “He also said something that I found very curious. He said that Jacoba knows her safety depends on her pleasing him. Do you know what he meant by that?”
Juan didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he took a pen knife out of his pocket and slowly peeled one of the oranges Lola had on her desk. He separated the peeled orange into equal halves and offered one to Lola. “Yes, I know what he meant. My problem is that I don’t think the information is mine to tell. Your father believes Jacoba is harmless, but I believe just as firmly that he is mistaken. Please, Señora, be very careful.”
“Perhaps Jacoba has changed. She was very pleasant this weekend. I was quite struck by how well she got on with Victoria. They were almost friendly by the time everyone left.”
“Then there must be some benefit for Jacoba in the friendship,” said Juan as he rose to leave. “I apologize for not being able to satisfy your curiosity.”
Lola walked back to the house, deep in thought. Jacoba convinced Victoria that she’s friendly, and Victoria’s exceedingly shrewd. Perhaps Father was right.
That evening at dinner Enrique said Victoria’s husband’s initial reaction had not been favorable, although he had been more pleasant after mass.
“Maybe Victoria talked to him,” suggested Jacoba.
“Really?” Enrique smiled. “I assume that’s your accomplishment, Lola?”
“No. It was my accomplishment,” announced Jacoba. Enrique glanced at his daughter to confirm the statement.
“That’s right, Father, I wasn’t able to get my arguments into the conversation at all. All the credit belongs to Jacoba.” Lola almost laughed at her father’s expression of surprise. “She put her finger on Victoria’s weak spot. She told her that the rail would open doors of culture for her talented offspring.” Enrique’s laugh seemed to fill the room.
“My dear Jacoba, you surprise me. I had no idea you even had an opinion about the project.”
“As Hamlet said, ‘There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy,’” muttered James under his breath. Lola flashed him a quick smile and looked down at her plate. “Are you familiar with Shakespeare?”
“I’ve heard of him, but I haven’t read his work.” Lola spoke as quietly as James.
Enrique got their attention. “If Victoria’s convinced, then our battle is won. The others will follow.”
“Just give it a little time,” said Jacoba. “Victoria will keep picturing grand society functions. She won’t let it rest.”
“So now we wait?” asked James. Enrique nodded.
The next morning there was a note on Lola’s desk when she got to work.
Sorry I did not speak with you before I left. As I explained to your father, I cannot afford to sit and wait. I accepted a commission which I expect to complete in six months. By that time the rainy season will be over, and the landowners will be ready to implement the rail project.
James
As though released from the constraint of having a guest at their meals, El Patrón drank more than usual that night. Lola asked to be excused from the table after dessert, but her father insisted she stay for coffee. “After all,” he said, “it’sh not right that the...uh... person who’ll inherit aw thish.” He made a sweeping motion, narrowly missing the bottle in front of him, “still acts like a child and goes to bed early.”
Lola felt the world freeze in place. Each detail of the scene in front of her etched itself into her mind—from Rosa, on the periphery of her vision, who nearly dropped the tray of dessert dishes she was taking back to the kitchen, to her father, lolling in his chair with a sardonic smile on his face, reaching for his glass once more.
A sound of shattering crystal broke the spell. Jacoba sat with the stem of her glass clutched in her hand, her mouth agape in a rictus of surprise and anger. Blood ran down her fingers and joined with the red wine from the shattered glass as it spread across the tablecloth.
Lola felt a crackle of electric tension in the room as she sent Estela running for Marta and carried Yousef until she could surrender him to the girl. Behind her she heard low-voiced words being exchanged. Reluctantly she returned to her seat. Her father was leaning forward in his chair, apparently stone cold sober.
“Don’t play the wronged wife with me, Jacoba. You knew before I married you that you’d never inherit this land. The most you could ever have hoped for was a son who might have inherited, had he shown the ability to handle the plantation.
“I’m only now realizing how very rare that ability is.” He paused and Jacoba took advantage of the opening.
“You said you were going to split the land—”
“I know what I said,” snapped Enrique.
“You owe me,” said Jacoba. “I’ve run your household for years and I’ve—”
“I owe you nothing. You are fed, clothed, sheltered and able to do virtually whatever you like—in spite of everything.” His expression changed again, and Lola wished she were not witnessing this scene. Her image of her father did not include hatred, but she thought that was the emotion on his face as he looked at his wife.
“The servants serve you at my request; the horse that carries you does so because I allow it; the jewels around your neck are there at my pleasure.” He lowered his voice and brought his face within inches of Jacoba. “Even you exist for my pleasure. I allow you into my bed on nights when it pleases me—and this is not one of those nights.” He sat up and made a dismissive motion. “Now go clean your hand.”
“Rosa,” he said without raising his voice or taking his eyes off Jacoba, “stop listening at the door and come clean this mess.” Rosa appeared instantly. “My dear.” Enrique rose and made a mock bow to Jacoba as he waited for her to leave the table. Lola couldn’t tell if it was fury or fear that caused the blood to drain from Jacoba’s face as she rose and left the room without a backward glance. “Rosa, please have coffee brough
t to the library. Lola and I will probably be up rather late.”
As soon as her father closed the library door Lola started talking. “Father, I’m flattered by your confidence in me, but what makes you think I can run a plantation? I am only a woman, and not a very forceful woman. I couldn’t manage the men. I’d be a laughingstock and your plantation would be in ruins. It would surely destroy everything you spent your life building.” Her father leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. Lola sat, wondering if he was asleep. Had he only appeared to be sober? Was the talk of inheritance a result of the drink? “Father?”
“Lola,” he said, and she breathed a sigh of relief. “We all make mistakes in this world—some worse than others.” He paused, apparently lost in thought. Lola waited.
“I had intended to split the land between the sisters living here because I thought I had no other choice. Even though I wanted to keep the plantation whole, so it could come to its full potential, none of the husbands would have made a suitable heir. Ernestina’s husband is a hardworking farmer with no head for business. A plantation this size would kill him. Amelia’s husband is a follower. He tests the wind every morning and goes whichever way it blows him. Amelia could direct him, but she has no interest in doing so. At best they could maintain this plantation, but it would remain stagnant until they split it between their sons and each would have a small holding that would never amount to anything.
“That brings us to Victoria. Victoria would move heaven and earth to get all the land in Peru if she could. She always resented sharing anything with her sisters. If she had the inclination to learn the business end of things, she’d be even better equipped to run the place than you are. She’s intelligent and strong—and her husband can manage the men. He will eventually do anything she wants him to do.” Enrique shrugged. “If only her vision went beyond her fixation with the idea of noble blood, things might be different. Victoria would soon exhaust the resources of the plantation with fancy social events and things she thinks aristocrats do. You’ve heard her. She wants to use the train to go to the capital and mingle with the ruling classes. She can’t see that this plantation is a kingdom and she is the ruling class.” He paused and frowned. “Where’s our coffee?”
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