During these years, I invested our savings in properties and businesses. We don’t just have the beach house; we have six other properties, including the building where Ángela lives with Eduardo. We also have shares in three companies worth more than you can imagine. You’re rich, my love.
You’ve always been rich, but now you’re rich on paper, too. My hands trembled as I reviewed the documents. There were deeds to houses in different neighborhoods of the city, an apartment downtown, a small hotel on the coast, and, indeed, the 20-story building where my daughter lived. Roberto had been the silent owner for the past 10 years, but he had put everything in the name of a company I didn’t know about. And according to the papers, I was the sole heir to that company.
There were also bank statements from accounts I never knew existed. Numbers that seemed unreal. Roberto had been a bus driver for 40 years, but apparently he had also been a very savvy investor.
Every peso we saved, every sacrifice we made, he had silently multiplied, and I never knew a thing. In the letter, Roberto explained that he had kept everything a secret because he didn’t want me to worry about money, or for Ángela to know about our true financial situation. Do you know our daughter Antonia? If she knew we had so much money, her attitude would change.
I want her to love us for who we are, not for what we have. How ironic. Our daughter had left us thinking we had nothing when in reality we had everything. That night I couldn’t sleep. I walked around the house touching the old furniture, the ornaments Ángela had always criticized for being outdated. I looked at the family photos hanging on the wall, especially the one where she was 5 years old and sitting on Roberto’s lap, laughing.
Where had that sweet little girl gone when she’d become so cold, so calculating? The next day, very early, the phone rang . It was Angela again. Her voice sounded different, softer, but I’d already learned to distrust those changes in tone. Mom, how are you? I wanted to tell you that we’ve already transferred the money for the house and the car.
We’ll deposit your share into your account. It’s not much, but it’ll help you live for a few months while you look for something smaller. “My share,” I asked, keeping my voice calm. “Yes, Mom. Obviously, we weren’t going to leave you with nothing. We gave you 30%. It’s fair, right? We need the money for the investment in Europe. Eduardo has an incredible business opportunity there.”
30% of my own things. How generous. I understand, daughter. And when are you leaving? This afternoon. We already have our bags packed. We’ll be gone for at least six months, maybe longer if business goes well. But don’t worry, Mom. When we get back, we’ll help you find a small apartment, something tailored to your needs.
Tailored to my needs, as if she knew what my needs were. Okay, Angela. Have a safe trip. Oh, Mom, I knew you’d understand. You were always very understanding. We love you so much. And she hung up. I stood there with the phone in my hand, and for the first time in months, I laughed. I laughed like I hadn’t since Roberto died. The situation was so absurd it was comical.
My daughter had stolen from me, kicked me out of my own home, spoken to me with unbearable condescension, and all to finance a European adventure that would likely be a disaster. But what bothered me most wasn’t the money; it was the ease with which she’d discarded me. 45 years of life dedicated to her, of sacrifice, of unconditional love, and she’d eliminated me from her life with a two-minute phone call. That really hurt. I checked my online bank account.
Indeed, they had deposited an amount that probably seemed generous to them, but to me it was a mockery. They had sold the beach house for much less than it was worth, probably because they needed the money quickly, and Roberto’s car had been sold at a bargain price.
That afternoon, from my window, I saw Ángela and Eduardo loading suitcases into a taxi. He was carrying two enormous suitcases. She was carrying a duffel bag that looked very expensive. I saw them laughing, kissing, making plans. They looked like two teenagers excited about an adventure. They never looked back at my window, never said goodbye. When the taxi left, I sat in the kitchen with a cup of tea and Roberto’s documents spread out on the table.
