“What does it matter, darling? She can’t help her circumstances.” Winnie motions to the life-sized painting. “Look how beautiful her work is. I’m thinking of being her patron, commissioning her to do your portrait.”
“That’s very big hearted of you.” I don’t bother hiding my sarcasm. “Speaking of portraits, why are there no pictures of my grandmother?”
Winnie’s spine stiffens. “That’s an odd question.”
“Is it? She was your mother.”
Winnie seems disturbed. “I think they’re in the attic with the rest of her things. Father put them away after she died.”
“We never talk about her. Why is that?” I confess, growing up, I took it for granted. Her death was overshadowed by the loss of my mother and my father’s withdrawal.
“Mother was not very happy.” She slips her hand in the crook of my arm as we stroll to the dining room. “Had she been alive today, I’m sure she would still be with us, but back then… people didn’t know how to deal with grief.”
“Grief?” I’m curious how much my aunt knows of the story, considering it all happened before she was born.
“She lost a child between your father and me. She was visiting a friend and went into premature labor. It was very sad. She never got over it, at least that’s what they said.”
“I see.” I hold her chair as she takes a seat at the table. “How old were you when she died?”
“I was about the same age you were when you lost your mother.” Empathy is in her eyes. “Let’s not talk about it. Our family has not been lucky in love.”
Servers appear with salad plates, and we drift to silence.
I think about her statement and her brief marriage. Winnie married one of my grandfather’s business associates, and I’m pretty sure it was not a love match.
I barely remember my uncle Clarke. My father once said he tried to tell Winnie what to do, and she walked out.
Angel is on my mind. We exchanged a few texts today, but she had to work, then she had her final art class. My aunt’s comment has me needing to see her again, to change my family’s luck, regardless of our history.
“Why do you suppose they do it?” She holds a heavy crystal goblet to her lips, sipping her red wine as the servers take away our salad plates, replacing them with steak and new potatoes.
“Do what?” I spear a small red spud and pop it into my mouth.
“This young woman described a beautiful childhood in Mexico. Why would she leave that to come here?”
“I think there are a lot of reasons people like us could never understand.” Slicing a bite of steak, I eat the perfectly cooked beef not expecting my aunt to understand the concept of privilege even while sitting in the midst of it. “Why does it matter to you?”
“I’d like to help her. She seems like an intelligent girl. Maybe she wants to go home.”
“Maybe you should stay out of it.” I take another bite of steak, and she tilts her head to the side.
“I’d say that was rude if I didn’t know you better.”
I’m not looking to fight with my aunt about the problems of a stranger. I’m more interested in what I’ve learned. “How much do you know about the way Grandfather acquired his land?”
She exhales, sliding her plate forward and leaning back in her chair. “We’ve discussed this, Deacon. I was a child, a girl. I was not included in those discussions. It’s ignorant and backwards by today’s standards, but that’s how it was in those days.”
“But you married one of his closest business partners. He never discussed it with you?”
“Non-disclosure agreements. Your grandfather was very suspicious.” She rises from her chair and goes to the fireplace. “He only got worse as he got older, after Mother died. He didn’t trust anyone, least of all women.”
Knowing what I’ve learned, it’s like all these dots are just waiting to be connected. My eyes go to the clock, and I see it’s after nine. “I think I’ll call it a night.”
“Won’t you stay a little longer?” She puts her hand on my arm, and I cover it with mine.
“I’ll check on you in a few days.” We’re out in the hall when a door opens, the one leading to the side entrance the workers use.
Everything stops when Angel steps into the hallway.