A Spanish Inheritance

Then either Don Alfonso knew something she didn’t, or he had stretched the truth past breaking point, Annalisa thought uncomfortably as she sank back in her chair. When the sale went through for her modest home in England she might just be able to scrape together enough money to mend the roof, and perhaps even lay some sort of proper road to the property. But as for purchasing land from Ramon to secure irrigation for her fruit?

Picking up her pen, she stabbed at her notepad as if trying to pin down an idea. ‘I will restore the orange groves to full production,’ she insisted stubbornly, feeling her throat dry as she gave voice to her plans—plans that even she knew were ambitious to the point of being reckless. She had come to the island knowing nothing at all about agriculture, and even less about oranges. But she could learn… She would learn. ‘It is my intention to live and work at the finca,’ she went on, conscious that she had everyone’s full attention now. ‘And I mean to provide employment for as many of the local villagers as I can.’

Rapt faces stared up at her in frozen surprise, but only Ramon shifted slightly in his seat as he murmured, ‘Bravo!’

‘But the strip of coastline,’ one of his team reminded him, clearing his throat to break the trance-like state of his companions. ‘The strip you need to complete the marina, Señor Perez. Surely Señorita Wilson will not require a beach as part of her plans to re-establish the orange groves?’

Annalisa tensed. So that was Ramon’s angle. So much for his concern…his kind words! She would be better off taking Don Alfonso’s advice. At least he was honest! ‘The coastline is not negotiable,’ she said coldly.

‘All things are negotiable,’ Ramon argued amiably.

‘My client has had a lot to take in,’ Don Alfonso said, excusing her with a shrug. ‘I should like a month to look into everything with Señorita Wilson. After which she may well reconsider how much of the land is necessary to her plans and how much is superfluous.’ He gave another shrug as he looked around the table.

Every face swung to Ramon. He nodded briefly. ‘That seems fair, Don Alfonso, but a lot can happen in the time you ask for, so I shall require weekly updates.’

‘We’ll see to it,’ one of his lawyers said, making a note.

‘No,’ Ramon said quietly, planting both hands firmly on top of the table. ‘I’m going to handle this myself.’

Annalisa silenced her gasp. And, staring around, she saw she was not alone in her surprise. The inscrutable faces of the lawyers had slipped just enough to prove that Ramon would normally delegate such an insignificant matter.

‘This is a sensitive case,’ he continued, as if that was explanation enough. ‘And I am keen to achieve a settlement that will satisfy both Señorita Wilson and myself. After all,’ he said wryly, ‘it appears we are going to be neighbours whatever the outcome.’

Sensing the power and determination of her adversary, Annalisa tensed. It was as if a silken net had been cast by so skilled a hand she had barely felt it land on top of her…until it was too late. Swinging away from his knowing glance, she felt her heart thump ominously as Don Alfonso rose from the table. Directing his comments to Ramon, he inclined his head graciously.

‘We are honoured to have your personal input, Señor Perez. I am sure we can reach an amicable agreement. If it is convenient to Señorita Wilson and yourself, I will arrange our first briefing for the same time, one week from today.’

Now it was Annalisa’s turn to be the centre of attention, and again she felt Ramon watching her with that stillness she had already identified as his particular hallmark. ‘That’s fine with me,’ she agreed in a voice that gave nothing away. What else could she say? She was in this to the finish and she had to keep track of Ramon’s designs on her land…maybe even think up a way to barter some of her shoreline in exchange for his water…

As the meeting concluded the tension eased.

‘Lunch?’ Ramon said, directing the question straight at her.

It was the very last thing Annalisa had been expecting. She felt at a disadvantage from every point of view. She needed time to regroup, to recover… ‘Oh, no,’ she said quickly. ‘I’m not even hungry.’

‘Or thirsty?’ he teased gently.

‘I never drink in the middle of the day, Señor Perez.’

‘You mean I can’t even tempt you with a single glass of champagne?’

‘Ah, now you make me wish I was joining you,’ Don Alfonso said as he ushered them both out of the door.