The Infamous Miss Rodriguez: A Ciudad Real Novella by Lydia San Andres Page B
Authors: Lydia San Andres
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her eyes to hide it. “I’m sure we’ll find a suitable arrangement,” Aunt Elba said.
“I’ve no doubt. Oh, and by the way, Graciela— Mother said you should meet her at La Parisienne this week to pick out a tea service for our home. She’ll send a note with instructions.”
Alvaro nodded at them both, as if dismissing them, even though it was he who left the room. Still holding herself with a rigidity that betrayed her anger, Aunt Elba seated herself behind her desk and glared at the documents there, seemingly forgetting that Graciela was still there.
Something about the thin figure behind the massive desk made Graciela feel, for the first time, some sympathy for her aunt’s situation. It must not have been easy to carry such a heavy burden, but neither could it have been easy to have her hard work so easily disregarded.
“You don’t have to do it,” Graciela said. With effort, she kept the pleading and the petulance out of her voice and tried to sound like a reasonable adult.
Aunt Elba’s head snapped up. “I’m sure I don’t need advice from you,” she said frostily.
“I can’t believe you would let Alvaro take over the factory after all you’ve worked to keep it going after Abuelo died,” Graciela said.
“I’ll do anything that needs to be done to secure its future and yours. Your grandfather made me responsible for the factory, and for you. I will not fail him.”
“But you would sell me.” Graciela’s fingers dug into the upholstery of her chair.
“If anything, I’m buying you a future, Graciela. Marrying Alvaro will give you a position in society, and wealth beyond what I could provide for you.”
“But I don’t care about money, Aunt Elba.”
“You will when you don’t have it. You wouldn’t think yourself so above money if you had to toil for it in a factory floor or scrub other people’s underthings for pennies.”
Graciela did not remember her parents very clearly, but she did remember her grandfather. Aunt Elba, being her father’s sister, was not related to him, but there was something in the flintiness of her gaze that put Graciela in mind of the old man. He’d been wonderfully kind, but steel had run in his blood. In this moment, it was easy to see that it ran through Aunt Elba’s as well.
“Perhaps you haven’t realized it, but your entire existence is only possible thanks to the money you disdain. It takes money to dress you in Spanish leather and French lace. It takes money to buy Turkish dates and American pecans and that Colombian coffee you love so much. It takes money to keep a motorcar and a chauffeur to take you out for rides, and to employ maids so you don’t wear out your hands or your back. Life requires money, Graciela, and you’re far less intelligent than I gave you credit for if you think not having it would give you more freedom.”
The study was so silent Graciela could hear the footsteps as they paused outside the room, and the faint metallic grind of the unoiled doorknob—likely the only object in the entire house that had escaped refurbishment— as it was turned.
“Miss Rodriguez,” her aunt’s maid said, poking her head inside, “I apologize for disturbing you but you said to let you know when your bath was ready.”
“I’ll be upstairs in a minute.” Aunt Elba waited for the soft click of the door being pushed closed before speaking again. “You may not see it now, but everything I’ve done is for your own good. I hope one day you’ll come to realize it. Until then, I expect you to do as I say.”
* * *
T hey ascended the staircase together , in silence, parting at the top and heading for their respective bedrooms.
Graciela was quiet as her maid undressed her and helped her into the bathtub, then excused herself, saying she needed to finish polishing Graciela’s patent leather shoes.
Alone, Graciela wrapped her arms around her knees and rested her chin on them.
The dress she was to wear that evening was spread out
“I’ve no doubt. Oh, and by the way, Graciela— Mother said you should meet her at La Parisienne this week to pick out a tea service for our home. She’ll send a note with instructions.”
Alvaro nodded at them both, as if dismissing them, even though it was he who left the room. Still holding herself with a rigidity that betrayed her anger, Aunt Elba seated herself behind her desk and glared at the documents there, seemingly forgetting that Graciela was still there.
Something about the thin figure behind the massive desk made Graciela feel, for the first time, some sympathy for her aunt’s situation. It must not have been easy to carry such a heavy burden, but neither could it have been easy to have her hard work so easily disregarded.
“You don’t have to do it,” Graciela said. With effort, she kept the pleading and the petulance out of her voice and tried to sound like a reasonable adult.
Aunt Elba’s head snapped up. “I’m sure I don’t need advice from you,” she said frostily.
“I can’t believe you would let Alvaro take over the factory after all you’ve worked to keep it going after Abuelo died,” Graciela said.
“I’ll do anything that needs to be done to secure its future and yours. Your grandfather made me responsible for the factory, and for you. I will not fail him.”
“But you would sell me.” Graciela’s fingers dug into the upholstery of her chair.
“If anything, I’m buying you a future, Graciela. Marrying Alvaro will give you a position in society, and wealth beyond what I could provide for you.”
“But I don’t care about money, Aunt Elba.”
“You will when you don’t have it. You wouldn’t think yourself so above money if you had to toil for it in a factory floor or scrub other people’s underthings for pennies.”
Graciela did not remember her parents very clearly, but she did remember her grandfather. Aunt Elba, being her father’s sister, was not related to him, but there was something in the flintiness of her gaze that put Graciela in mind of the old man. He’d been wonderfully kind, but steel had run in his blood. In this moment, it was easy to see that it ran through Aunt Elba’s as well.
“Perhaps you haven’t realized it, but your entire existence is only possible thanks to the money you disdain. It takes money to dress you in Spanish leather and French lace. It takes money to buy Turkish dates and American pecans and that Colombian coffee you love so much. It takes money to keep a motorcar and a chauffeur to take you out for rides, and to employ maids so you don’t wear out your hands or your back. Life requires money, Graciela, and you’re far less intelligent than I gave you credit for if you think not having it would give you more freedom.”
The study was so silent Graciela could hear the footsteps as they paused outside the room, and the faint metallic grind of the unoiled doorknob—likely the only object in the entire house that had escaped refurbishment— as it was turned.
“Miss Rodriguez,” her aunt’s maid said, poking her head inside, “I apologize for disturbing you but you said to let you know when your bath was ready.”
“I’ll be upstairs in a minute.” Aunt Elba waited for the soft click of the door being pushed closed before speaking again. “You may not see it now, but everything I’ve done is for your own good. I hope one day you’ll come to realize it. Until then, I expect you to do as I say.”
* * *
T hey ascended the staircase together , in silence, parting at the top and heading for their respective bedrooms.
Graciela was quiet as her maid undressed her and helped her into the bathtub, then excused herself, saying she needed to finish polishing Graciela’s patent leather shoes.
Alone, Graciela wrapped her arms around her knees and rested her chin on them.
The dress she was to wear that evening was spread out
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