Very good business. Of course. He agreed too quickly. Family businesses always have a special value. Do you still manage it or do you have a trusted manager?
I saw how her eyes shone, like a snake that has just smelled its prey.
How wonderful that she can handle everything on her own. She leaned forward. I imagine it’s a lot of responsibility. Paperwork, taxes, all that. At her age, she should be married, right?
“I manage fine,” I replied politely.
Shimea got up from the sofa and began to walk around the living room. She ran her hand over the furniture. She stopped in front of an old photograph of when Eric was 5 years old. She has lived here for 38 years.
“Wow,” he laughed. “I bet he’s already thought about moving to something smaller, more practical. No, houses are a lot of work when they get bigger and bigger.”
Third, I have thought to include because I was already starting to extend the game.
He continued walking and suddenly did something that put me on alert. He opened the desk drawer. “Oh, sorry,” he said, quickly closing it. I thought it was a picture frame. What a habit I have of touching everything.
But I saw him. I saw him take a quick look at what was inside. Documents, receipts, papers from the factory that I had left on the desk.
Enrique finally looked up. Shime, love, stop going through my mom’s things, he said laughing, but with conviction.
“Forgive me, mother-in-law,” she replied, returning to his side and clinging to my son’s arm. “It’s just that I adore houses with history, and this one has a lot of it.”
The rest of the afternoon was more of the same. Casual questions about the house, about Osvaldo’s retirement, about future plans. He fished for information as if it were nothing. Dropping compliments between sentences.
When they finally left, it was already night. Enrique hugged me at the door.
Did you like it, Mom?
I looked at Jimena, who was already in the car, engrossed in her cell phone. “It seems interesting.” That was all I could say.
I knew it had been quick, but Enrique smiled in that way that broke my heart. I think she’s the right person, you know?
I squeezed my son’s hand. If you’re happy, son, I’m happy.
I put it in again.
Because that night, lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, I knew exactly what it was that had just entered my life.
A woman who didn’t love my son, a woman who had seen something in that drawer, some information, some number and now it was calculated, calculated how much the life that Osvaldo and I had built was worth.
What I didn’t know at that moment was that Jimena was already three steps ahead and that in less than three months she would make a request that would change everything between my son and me forever.
Three months after that afternoon, my phone rang at 7 a.m. on a Saturday. It was Enrique, his voice trembling with emotion.
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