“The gangs from the cartels do that all the time.”
“I’m sure they’d like nothing more than to kidnap my father and get a huge ransom.”
“I don’t know, he’s so well protected. I doubt that would ever happen. Besides, he travels so much. It’s hard to predict where he’ll be. He said something about having to pack.”
“Yes, he’s taking off again.”
“Where? The International Space Station?”
He laughed. “Colombia, probably. I heard him talking about seeing the president and maybe some other friends down there. We own some businesses in Bogotá. He’s got a friend who makes him special suits.”
“My father met the French president once, at the Tour de France, but it’s not like he’s friends with presidents around the world like your father is.”
“You know what?” he began, brightening over a thought. “Maybe we’ll do a little traveling ourselves …”
Dinner was served promptly at six p.m., and Miguel and Sonia had showered and dressed for the occasion. Miguel had warned Sonia that his father placed great emphasis on family meals, because they were so few and far between. Dinners at home were precious experiences, and they should be treated with the utmost respect.
Since there would be only four, they dined at one of the smaller tables just off the main kitchen, and J.C. prepared a four-course meal of beef and chicken that had become one of the signature experiences at every Sofía’s throughout the world. The family owned sixteen of the exclusive restaurants, all named after his mother, and they served both traditional and fusion Mexican cuisine, embracing all six regions of the country. Their world-renowned dishes were served in an atmosphere that Jorge had said should suggest the great ancient civilizations of Mexico, from the Olmecs to the Aztecs. Colossal sculptures of heads, fish vessels, and ancient masks were just a few of the art pieces hanging in every dining room. Dinner for two at the Sofía’s in Dallas, Texas, set back most patrons nearly two hundred dollars — before ordering the wine.
“Sonia, how are you enjoying your stay here?” Jorge asked, after taking a long sip on his mineral water.
“Well, it’s just horrible. I feel like I’m being mistreated, and I’m ready to go home. You people are obnoxious, terrible hosts; the food is just disgusting.”
Miguel nearly dropped his fork. He turned to her.
She burst out laughing and added, “No, seriously, I’m only kidding. Of course it’s incredible.”
Jorge finally smiled and turned to Alexsi. “You see? That is a sense of humor. That is what I’m talking about. You are much too lovely and much too serious.”
Alexsi smiled and reached for her wine. “Being lovely requires serious work.”
“Ah, and clever,” Jorge added, then reached over and gave her a kiss.
Miguel sighed and glanced away.
The conversation throughout dinner was focused on Sonia, her experiences at school, what she thought about the government in Spain, and her opinions about the European economy in general. She held her own as his father continued to interrogate her. When the meal was over, and they were leaning back and trying to breathe past their swelling waistlines, Jorge leaned toward the table and hardened his gaze on Miguel.
“Son, I have great news for you. I’ve been waiting to announce this, but I think this is as good a time as any. You’ve been accepted for a summer apprenticeship at Banorte.”
Miguel was about to frown but held back the reaction. His father was beaming, his eyes full of a wonder Miguel had not seen in years.
An apprenticeship at Banorte? What would they have him doing? Filing financial records? Would he be working in a branch or a corporate office? What was his father trying to do? Ruin his entire summer?
“Miguel …what’s wrong?”
He swallowed.
“You’re not excited. This will be a valuable experience. You can take what you’ve learned as an undergraduate and put it in action. Theory can only take you so far. You need to work in the field to see how these things operate. And then you’ll return to school for your MBA, knowing full well what is happening at the bank. This kind of experience you cannot get any other way.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You disagree?”
“Uh, I just …”
“If you’ll excuse me?” asked Sonia, rising from her chair. Miguel immediately stood and helped her out. “I need to use the bathroom,” she added.
“Me, too,” said Alexsi, glancing emphatically at Miguel.
Jorge waited until the women left and the servants had finished clearing their plates. Then he gestured that they should venture onto the deck to take in the moonlit ocean.
They stood there at a railing, his father with a drink still in hand, Miguel trying to muster the courage to decline his father’s offer.
“Miguel, did you think you were going to run around all summer and do nothing?”
“No, I did not.”
“This is a great opportunity.”
“I understand.”
“But you don’t want it.”
He sighed and finally faced his father. “I wanted to take Sonia on a vacation.”
“But you’re just back from Spain.”
“I know, but I want to show her our country. I was thinking about San Cristóbal de las Casas.”
Jorge’s expression began to soften, and his gaze drifted past Miguel and to the ocean. San Cristóbal was a place his parents had often visited, one of his mother’s favorite cities in all of Mexico. She loved the highlands of Chiapas and used to talk about the twisting streets, the brightly colored houses with their red-tiled roofs, and the green mountains all around. The place was rich in culture and Mayan history.
“I remember the first time I took your mother there …” He took another deep breath and could not go on.
“I think Sonia would love it, too.”
He nodded. “I’ll call them at the bank. You take the helicopter and spend a week there. Then, after that, you will go to work. If you want Sonia to remain here, that’s fine, but you will be working.”
Miguel drew back his head in shock. “Thank you.”
“You’ll have an escort while you’re there,” his father reminded him.
“I understand. But can they remain discreet, like they did in Spain?”
“I’ll make that happen. So what do you think of this girl?”
“She’s …great.”
“I think so, too.”
“Of course. You found her for me.”
“No, not just that. She’s very elegant. She would be a magnificent addition to our family.”
“Yes, but I don’t want to rush anything.”
“Of course not.”
“Well, we’ve stopped by for dessert,” called Miguel’s aunt from the doorway, with Arturo at her shoulder. “Are we too late?”
“Never too late,” said Jorge, giving her a kiss, then shaking Arturo’s hand.
While they chatted, Castillo was behind him, lifting his chin at Miguel, who shifted over to the man. “Do you need something, Fernando?”
“Yes, I’ve been trying to watch the monitors with my bad eye — if you know what I mean.”
“Thank you very much.”
“I wouldn’t do that again, though,” he said. “Your father would not appreciate it. He would say you are not treating her like a lady.”
“Understood. Thank you, Fernando. That was foolish.”
“I was young, too. I did things like that.”
Miguel placed a hand on the man’s shoulder. “You’re a good friend.” He then drifted back onto the deck, where he caught his father telling Arturo that he can really make a difference and that they should work together to stem the violence in Juárez.
“I’m only the governor, Jorge. There is only so much I can do. The president’s policies are not working. They are only causing more violence. I just received another report today about more killings in the city, and just yesterday I received yet another death threat.”