It's Just Lola (26 page)

“My children are doing well, thank you.  Mateo is already
help
ing 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 a
w
thish.”  He made a sweeping motion, narrowly missing the bottle in front of him, “still act
s
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 brought 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
w
hat 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?”

“I’ll get it.”  Lola needed a minute.  This was too much for her to take in all at once.  She was surprised both that he was being so frank with her and that their opinions agreed so completely.  Maybe the three husbands could manage as a team, but it would be a team dominated directly or indirectly by Victoria.  She wondered once more about Victoria’s friendship with Jacoba. 

Lola nearly collided with Pilar, coming the other way with a tray holding the coffee and a snack.  Pilar’s grin almost split her face in two.

“I knew my little lamb would grow up to be special,” she said.

“Pilar, you and Rosa must not say a word about this.  Not a word—to
anyone
.”

“What a waste of good gossip,” said Pilar with a chuckle.

“Pilar, this isn’t a joke.  Remember who is so angry she crushed the wine glass in her hand.” 

Pilar’s grin faded.  “Yes, Señora,” she said gravely.  “I’ll tell Rosa.”

Lola returned to the library with the tray.  “I think I’ve insured that stories of this evening’s conversation go no farther than Pilar and Rosa.  No guarantees, of course.”

“Of course,” said Enrique.  He waited for her to pour the coffee before speaking.  “Listen, Lola, I’m sorry it happened the way it did.  I wanted to talk to you first, but I was sitting there drinking and thinking…”  Enrique took a deep swallow of coffee and stared into his cup as though to find inspiration in its dark depths.  “Ever since you first began to work in the distillery, I lamented that you weren’t a boy.  You have a natural gift for the business end of our work.”

“Papa, what makes you think that your youngest daughter, who is not very dynamic, and will never grow to full size, could possibly get the respect and loyalty of the men?  Without that, I have nothing but an ability to keep books.”

“You already have the respect and loyalty of the only man on this plantation who really counts.”  Enrique smiled at his daughter and poured himself more coffee.

Lola frowned.  “Papa, I hope you live to be a hundred and Yousef grows to be a strong man under your tutelage, but consider the possibility that it won’t happen that way.  I’m so proud to have earned your respect that I could burst, but the very meaning of the word ‘inherit’ means you won’t be here.”

“Your answer shows that you know exactly what I’m doing.  I intend to make your son my heir.  We can train him together, but he’s still young and so many things can happen.  You need to be ready to take over the reins.”  Enrique chuckled.  “And I meant you’ve earned the respect and loyalty of Juan, without whom this plantation would never have become what it is today.”  Lola’s head was reeling, and she welcomed the long silence that followed.

“Lola, what did you do when…when you were away?”  It was Lola’s turn to take a deep swallow of coffee and stare into the cup for inspiration.  Her father had been so open and candid with her tonight, how could she not respond in kind?

“Juan claimed we were his cousins.”  She smiled briefly.  “He said that as descendants of Adam and Eve we were all cousins.” Her father’s answering smile pleased her.  She tried to keep the tone light, and her mind became a small theater where she and Enriqueta acted out their parts.  The words flowed from her mouth as the play became more and more real, and the audience faded into the darkness beyond the footlights.  Tears flowed unheeded as she described the pain of walking for hours in shoes with paper-thin soles, searching for work.  The tears dried as she told of the kindness of strangers who became friends.  The taste of half-rotten vegetables mingled with the sweetness of a child’s kiss.