The Years That Followed by Catherine Dunne Page B

evening, after hands had been shaken, coffee taken, business concluded.
    Señor Gómez was a frequent visitor, along with a changing sea of nameless, faceless men who followed in his wake. Their conversations were always in English, a language that Pilar pretended not to understand beyond a few simple phrases, greetings, numbers. Señor Gómez had told her it was better that way.
    She felt grateful—and not for the first time—that Señor Gómez had insisted, when they’d first met, that she take English classes at night. “It’s the future,” he told her. “The business world everywhere will come to rely upon the English language.” He’d looked at Pilar over the tops of his half-moon glasses as he tapped the desk in front of him for emphasis, his gold rings glinting in the light. “You don’t want to be left behind; you are a clever young woman. Go to it.”
    And so Pilar did as she was told. And Pilar is still doing what she is told. She watches; she learns; she waits.
    On those evenings when Señor Gómez dined at Number Eleven, he gave no sign that he knew her. Pilar glided around the table, served the courses seamlessly, and answered all the questions the guests might put to her.
    * * *
    Tonight, Señor Gómez will arrive with a party of six. Señor Roberto has already briefed her. At nine, the party will gather in the bar downstairs, where an aperitif will be served. They will choose from the menu at their leisure; dinner will be served at ten. “Very important clients of Señor Gómez. From Cyprus, I understand. Señor Gómez is most anxious that we give them five-star treatment.”
    Pilar smiles at him. Almost a decade of following orders has made her brave. “Don’t we always?” she asks.
    Roberto allows the ghost of a smile. “The highest standards are only maintained . . .”
    â€œBy demanding increasing levels of excellence from ourselves and from others,” Pilar finishes for him. For a moment, she wonders if she has gone too far. Roberto has a mask that never slips, not even at two or three in the morning when he invites the staff to sit and have a drink with him after all the guests have left.
    But tonight, Pilar is feeling giddy. At twenty-six years of age, she has already achieved more in this city than she ever thought possible. Soon, she will tell Roberto that she is leaving. She no longer needs to work so hard. She is now, after all, part owner of a building: a fully tenanted, fully operational apartment building, something Pilar stillcannot quite believe. She cannot tell Roberto this, of course; Señor Gómez would never forgive her. He likes to keep all the different aspects of his life in their separate compartments. “Business,” he tells Pilar, “is mostly a matter of not letting the left hand know what the right hand is doing. Play your cards close to your chest. That way, people do not get the opportunity to take advantage.”
    Pilar has always followed Señor Gómez’s advice; she has taken it to heart with a mixture of gratitude and respect. He has, after all, looked after her interests and made it possible for her to be financially independent, perhaps even on her way to being rich one day. There are times even now when she needs to pinch herself.
    But lately, Pilar has become conscious of a growing restlessness. She needs to make some changes, to work a little less, to enjoy herself and her freedom a little more.
    Roberto looks at her now. He nods his approval. “You are correct. Ever-increasing levels of excellence. I have absolute faith in you.” This time, he does smile as he moves away. Pilar feels light and almost happy. She walks across the landing to where one of the junior girls, Maribel, has prepared fresh flowers for table three. Poppies, carnations, and a colorful profusion of anemones in white, pink, purple.
    â€œThey’re