Conquistadora - Esmeralda Santiago [118]
One of the things Eugenio most liked about Mr. Worthy was his ability to understand, in few words, what his clients were asking from him even if they didn’t know exactly themselves. After he explained his doubts about his abilities and desires as a businessman, Mr. Worthy went through the folios in a cabinet against the wall. Eugenio had the feeling that Mr. Worthy had read these documents many times, but he scanned the ones Eugenio was least likely to study, the ones with many figures on them, double lines at the bottoms of pages, black ink, red ink, abbreviations, symbols, seals, and customs stamps.
After showing him some of the entries on the parchments, Mr. Worthy recommended that Eugenio liquidate Marítima Argoso Marín’s seagoing assets and spend the income on real estate and on local businesses whose owners and directors had a good history of making money for their investors.
“You might also consider,” Mr. Worthy said, “that it’s time to sell Hacienda los Gemelos. Sugar prices have dropped steadily over the past six years, and I don’t see them going up in the near future. The land, however, is valuable, and you could get a good return.”
“No changes to Hacienda los Gemelos,” Eugenio said.
“I see.”
“I promised to let my daughter-in-law manage it, and intend to keep my word, unless there’s something amiss.…”
“No, sir. In spite of the constant losses, she’s punctilious about her figures.”
“Yes, I’m sure she is.”
“As your adviser in these matters, however, please forgive me, Colonel, I must be clear—”
“It’s in my interest that she live there. I’m willing to absorb small losses so long as the property continues to improve. Is that clear enough?”
“Of course,” Mr. Worthy said. “And I’ll consult with you if anything is alarming.”
“That’s what I expect.”
“Very well. Now that we have that settled, Colonel, there are other possibilities to make money,” Mr. Worthy continued, “that don’t require your everyday attention.”
“Go on.”
By Miguel’s sixth birthday in September 1851, Eugenio had divested the movable parts of the shipping business—the vessels, sails, machinery, crates, barrels, ropes, and he knew not what else—but held on to the docks, warehouses, and office buildings on the waterfront, rented at a premium. Mr. Worthy advised him on investments that he monitored in Puerto Rico and via the New York Stock & Exchange Board. He also sent an auditor to Los Gemelos every year to review the books and to make sure that everything there was in order.
Now that he no longer sat in an office listening to the droning of bookkeepers, managers, supervisors, and expediters, Eugenio became what his wife insisted a man of his age and race should be—a gentleman of means and leisure. Had he retired to Villamartín, he’d be just another old soldier living out his last years in ease and comfort, his exploits forgotten by everyone but his family. In San Juan, however, he was admired for his wealth, life’s work, and accomplishments. Everywhere he went, soldiers saluted, civilian men bowed, and ladies curtsied.
He owned shares of fighting cocks and racehorses. He enjoyed their exploits without having to do any of the work of raising or training them, or of keeping them in fighting and racing health. He joined La Asociación de Caballeros Españoles, a club devoted to cards, fine wines, and aromatic cigars. Like his sons, he was a good dancer, and took pleasure in leading Leonor around the polished dance floors in private homes and ballrooms, certain that even young señoritas admired his form.
Because they spent most evenings out, Miguel ate his supper with Elena, who didn’t like leaving him alone even if it meant missing an elegant dinner or a performance at the theater. It was Elena who listened to his prayers, who reminded him to include Queen Isabel II, Ana, Severo, the unfortunate slaves, the lepers, orphans, and everyone on the prayer list at the Catedral de San Juan Bautista. It was Elena who walked him to catechism classes, and who made sure he observed the holy days. And it was she who released Eugenio from his biggest preoccupation.