Conquistadora - Esmeralda Santiago [172]
“Here are the pedigrees for your horses, and lastly”—he removed a stack from inside an envelope and fanned the pages on the desk—“the most recent chart of accounts for Los Gemelos indicating that, contrary to all expectations in these difficult times, the plantation is doing rather well.”
Miguel stared at the documents, unable to make sense of any of them but feeling like he must say something. “It all looks very … complete.”
Mr. Worthy collected the papers into a neat pile. “Freeing the slaves now would be financially devastating for your mother and the hacienda. It must disappoint you to be unable to handle your own business affairs, but you see, don Eugenio thought that you should be more experienced before making decisions that would affect your future financial well-being.”
Miguel stared at the stack of papers representing who he was in the world to men like Mr. Worthy. It was clear that, if only these papers were consulted, he was a man of consequence, even power, but he felt neither important nor commanding. He’d entered this office with one idea in mind—to free the slaves. He now realized that don Eugenio hadn’t trusted him. Who better to control his impulses than this gloomy norteamericano whose every word led only in the direction of the acquisition, expansion, and protection of wealth?
“If I may”—Mr. Worthy interrupted his reverie—“there’s something I’d like to ask, if you allow.”
“Yes, of course.”
“You remember that in his will don Eugenio made no provision for your mother?”
“I’m aware of that.”
“It is, of course, not up to me to question the colonel’s reasons or motives,” Mr. Worthy said while doing just that. “But other than what would come to her in the event of her husband’s death—and I’m not privy to his financial health, since he seems to manage those affairs himself—doña Ana has been left unprotected … financially, that is.”
Miguel said nothing.
“She receives a salary, of course, and as the mayordomo, don Severo is paid rather handsomely,” Mr. Worthy continued. “The colonel might have thought that with her income from him and her marriage to señor Fuentes, doña Ana didn’t need a separate legacy. But she had a considerable investment in the hacienda when she first came to Puerto Rico that has never been recognized—and again, I’m speaking strictly of the financial realities. It could be an oversight,” Mr. Worthy concluded, “that perhaps you’d care to remedy.”
“A few moments ago, sir, you said I could make no decisions until I’m twenty-five—”
“You’re only eighteen, and it might seem like a ridiculous concern now to be preparing for your eventual demise. It’s wise, however, now that you’re a man of property, for you to have a will. You might eventually marry and have heirs, at which time we’ll discuss those provisions. For now, however, you might wish to ensure that, in the unlikely event that you predecease doña Ana, she need not rely on the auspices of either her husband or your future survivors. I only met her once, but I know her to be a proud and tenacious woman. What she has accomplished at Los Gemelos is impressive, and should be rewarded.”
“Thank you, Mr. Worthy,” Miguel said. “You’re right. What should I do?”
“We can draft the necessary language, based on your current position, for you to review. Once you’re comfortable with the distribution, the document need only be signed and dated before witnesses.”
“Please get it under way then.…”
Mr. Worthy scratched a note on a pad before him.
Now it was Miguel’s turn to look toward the harbor, and beyond it, to the sinuous line of the Cordillera Central. “I’ve not seen my mother in years,” he said. “I’d like to protect her interests, of course, as much as possible. She has protected mine.”
“She has indeed,” said Mr. Worthy. “It is unfortunate that you’ll have no time for a visit to Los Gemelos before your trip to Europe.”
Miguel blanched. All talk about Madrid had ended the day it started.
“I know that your grandfather and don Simón went to great lengths for you to get an apprenticeship