‘Nice to see the old guy again,’ he said, lifting his glass to the pictures of Uncle Bobby on the piano. ‘We used to have some good games. He was lousy at poker though.’ Joni glanced at Aunt Mary but if Aunt Mary was thinking about the freeholds her dead husband had lost to Frankie Reyes she showed no sign. Lola Lovely tapped her fingers irritably on her glass.
‘Change is inevitable. Isn’t that what our friend Mr Casama always says?’ said Aunt Mary.
‘Please don’t get the men started on that!’ Alice Robello said, fanning her hand in mock exhaustion.
‘Mr Casama came to see me recently,’ Aunt Mary continued, smiling at her. ‘I hadn’t had the opportunity to really meet him properly before. Do you know him well, Judge?’
‘In passing,’ the judge said. ‘You’ve been out of circulation for some time.’ Judge Robello’s eyes wandered over the pictures on the piano, the flowers on the card table. ‘You’ve kept that marvellous cook to yourself for too long.’
‘Joseph, would you see how America is doing please?’ Aunt Mary said.
‘Over some gal?’ Frankie Reyes jerked his glass in my direction, his little finger pointing out my bruises.
‘Joseph’s father is one of the organisers of tomorrow’s rally,’ Aunt Mary said, and she put a hand lightly on my arm to keep me there for a moment. I kept my eyes on the tray I was holding while everyone looked at me. The women turned away quickly. Lola Lovely raised her glass to her daughter.
‘I boxed at university,’ the judge said. ‘It won’t spoil your looks.’ I glanced up at him but he didn’t meet my eye.
‘What do you know of Mr Casama’s plans for Esperanza?’ Aunt Mary said to no one in particular.
‘Oh, come, it’s been far too long since we saw you, Mary, let’s not talk business,’ the judge said.
‘I’ve been out of circulation but not earshot,’ Aunt Mary said.
‘I just love this old, solid furniture,’ Joni Reyes said, running her hand over the coffee table. ‘Frankie likes all the smoked glass and chrome stuff. He’d prefer to live at the office, I think.’ As I turned to leave, I caught the flicker of annoyance in Aunt Mary’s face.
Back in the kitchen, America had laid out the serving dishes on the table and was sprinkling coriander leaves on mounds of hot chicken and stuffed squid, wiping away errant spots of gravy. She talked to herself as she worked. Her eyes glinted happily at me as I walked in. ‘They might know about consortiums, but no one knows about food like I do,’ she said. It smelled so good I had to swallow several times.
When I got back to the sala, their voices seemed faster, more heated, as if a hard truth had been unearthed. I stood in the doorway, waiting for an opportunity to announce dinner. Judge Robello was saying, ‘He was born right in Colon Market. His mother was a balut vendor. And he’s not sentimental about the place.’
‘He’s a real businessman,’ Frankie Reyes said appreciatively. ‘He understands profit.’
‘He said he didn’t even wear shoes till he was a grown man,’ said Alice Robello. ‘They couldn’t afford them. Said if he took his shoes off we’d see the feet of a beggar! Can you imagine?’
‘Pisses higher than anyone now,’ Frankie Reyes said.
‘Frankie!’ His wife feigned embarrassment.
‘Sorry, ma’am,’ Reyes twirled his glass in Lola Lovely’s direction. ‘Seriously though, might be worth thinking about investing in his scheme. You’d get ten-, even twentyfold back on your money.’
‘I’m not really interested in investing. I’m more concerned about the effect on our community.’ Aunt Mary frowned.
‘Of course there’ll be losers,’ Judge Robello said, a little impatiently, I thought. ‘But there’ll always be people who win and people who lose. It’s our duty, for the sake of our families to make sure we stay on top, don’t you think? I mean, people depend on us. And not just our own children. They all come to us — I need money for my son’s wedding, Uncle, for my daughter’s school books, Uncle — for this, for that. Everyone from the gardener to the chauffeur. Hands in their pockets or hands held out for something.’
Frankie Reyes laughed in agreement. ‘Yes, a quiet redistribution of wealth,’ he said.
‘Some of these families have been here as long as our own,’ Aunt Mary said. ‘This is their home and they’ll be made to leave it.’
‘They don’t own the land,’ said Frankie Reyes.
Aunt Mary studied him gravely. ‘Is there no alternative to simply sweeping them aside?’ she said. The men were quiet, amused even.
‘Looks Italian,’ Lola Lovely said, leaning forward to finger the lapel of Alice Robello’s suit.
‘Milan. Joey and I were there last year on vacation.’
Aunt Mary sat back in her chair. ‘America is ready,’ I said from the door. They looked up at me, surprised. They hadn’t noticed my return.
‘Perfect timing, eh?’ said Frankie Reyes. Then, apologetically to Aunt Mary, ‘I’d just been wondering what your Monica had made for dinner.’
As they settled themselves at the dining table, Alice Robello said, ‘Rome, Florence, Bologna, Milan, Venice, Rome.’
‘So much art,’ said Joni Reyes.
‘Did you get to the Brera gallery in Milan?’ said Aunt Mary. ‘There’s a very moving painting there of a march by agricultural workers. Fiumana. It puts me in mind of tomorrow.’
‘We saw a lot of paintings.’
‘Everyone does the gallery thing,’ said Joni Reyes, ‘but after a while, the paintings all start to look the same, don’t you find?’
‘This particular one— ’ Aunt Mary said.
‘And Leonardo Da Vinci!’ said Alice Robello. ‘I said to Joey, wouldn’t that David look great in our lobby?’ Everyone laughed. Even Aunt Mary smiled.
‘Will you be at the rally, Mrs Lopez?’ Judge Robello asked.
‘Oh, I’m not one for crowds, Joey,’ Lola Lovely said.
I stood in the corner of the room, watching for cues from Aunt Mary. I’d learned so much from her about generosity. Her eyes flickered over the serving dishes, noting what was left, what might need refilling. I knew she took in her guests’ plates too, noticed who had eyed an out-of-reach dish more than once. When she looked up at me, I stepped forward quickly, trying to anticipate each request. I knew the painting Aunt Mary had mentioned. I’d seen it in one of her books and would have liked to tell her that I’d been moved by it too, by the way the figures emerged from the canvas like ghosts, like stories waiting to be told. Of course I didn’t, though later I decided that she’d have liked to hear it, even if it was only from me.
After dinner, the guests returned to the sala and I brought the coffee through. I thought I’d tell Cora who her coffee had been served to the next time I saw her. I imagined her eyes full of mischief and fury.
Aunt Mary tried again as everyone settled back in their seats, Frankie Reyes leaning against the piano. ‘We really must talk about what is going to happen to these people if we don’t do something.’
‘Why?’ said Judge Robello. ‘You’re not even one of them, Mary.’
‘Exactly!’ said Lola Lovely, her voice triumphant. I looked at Aunt Mary, her dismay, and I thought that, after all, the judge was right. She, like the rest of them, would endure the storm to come; it would be the likes of America and I that would be washed away.