Conquistadora - Esmeralda Santiago [203]
If he died, as his last survivor, she’d inherit Los Gemelos. The thought stunned her. That she’d even think this now was appalling. She banished the thought. He wouldn’t die. She’d do everything in her power to save him, to pray for him even. She hadn’t loved her son as she should have, but she wouldn’t let him die. This boy whose body trembled under her competent fingers, this boy whom she had ignored, bartered, manipulated was her son, her legacy. Miguel and his children and his children’s children would be her cathedral.
MR. WORTHY’S JOURNEY
Vicente Worthy gathered the papers he’d need for his journey and, one by one, slid them into his briefcase. There were several contracts with suppliers, two letters of credit, three purchase orders for two hundred puncheons of molasses each, plus one for five and another for seven tons of sugar bricks. There were copies of titles for real property, lists of assets, pedigrees for horses. The final folio was the last will and testament of Miguel Argoso Larragoity. Mr. Worthy wasn’t used to such crisp paper for wills. Often the pages were wrinkled or torn from much handling by their owners, from additions, amendments, and codicils. Most were limp from years of being stored in cabinets, the pages yellowing, the ink fading, the folds permanently creased, which made it difficult to keep the pages open. A will from the young was heartbreaking. On the other hand, it made his job easier.
Mr. Worthy snapped his briefcase closed and made sure the clasp was tightly fastened. He’d walk to the pier, where he’d board a ship, once owned by Marítima Argoso Marín, that would bring him to Guares. By the time he reached Hacienda los Gemelos, the harvest would have ended, shortened by the unfortunate occurrences a week earlier. Mr. Worthy arranged for his trip the same morning he’d received the news by telegraph. Another telegram arrived for doña Elena the same afternoon, and within hours, the whole city knew that young Miguel Argoso Larragoity had died in his mother’s arms. Those who remembered the deaths of Ramón and Inocente observed that the Argoso family had met with nothing but misfortune in Puerto Rico and rallied around the bereft doña Elena. Today, as Mr. Worthy began his journey to Hacienda los Gemelos, Miguel Argoso Larragoity was being buried.
Just as he was about to leave his office, his secretary announced that don Simón was waiting to see him. Mr. Worthy looked at his pocket watch—eleven fifteen. He was a punctual man on his way to a ship whose sailing was dependent on the winds and the tides, already ebbing.
“Don Simón, I apologize that I can’t attend you as I would like to—”
“Of course, Mr. Worthy. I’m aware that you’re on your way to the Dafne, but my wife is most adamant. We hope to visit Hacienda los Gemelos in the near future to pay our respects to our dear Miguel, may he live in glory. Elena, however, is too distraught to travel now.”
“I understand. How may I help?”
Don Simón handed him a black velvet pouch. “My wife cannot trust this to anyone else, Mr. Worthy. These jewels belong to doña Ana, who left them with Elena for safekeeping. She imagined that Ana would want Miguel to give them to his future wife, but of course—” He paused. “The jewels should probably go to her other son’s … Please forgive me, Mr. Worthy. We’re still overcome—”
“Thank you for trusting me with this errand. I’ll deliver the contents into doña Ana’s hands.”
“We are most grateful, Mr. Worthy. For this, and for your many courtesies to this family. May God bless you on your journey, señor. Vaya con Dios.”
Mr. Worthy placed the pouch inside his briefcase. He wasn’t comfortable in the role of courier. When should he deliver the pouch, before or after the reading of the will? The delight that his cherished Provi derived from gems had convinced him that ladies