“Correct. Doña Purificación’s seventy-five percent has to be divided between you and Doña Catalina since Don Alberto renounced the will.” The lawyer set his briefcase on the floor and turned to me. “Don Cristóbal, I would need to see this paper your wife signed, and of course, compare the signature to her passport. In addition, I’ll need your marriage certificate and Doña Purificación’s death certificate.”

I wiped the sweat off my forehead. “I don’t have my wife’s death certificate at the moment. The ship’s captain promised to send it to me from Panama after all the paperwork is completed. It should only take a week or so.” I was amazed at my own ability to lie. I supposed it had to do with my self-preservation instinct. “Of course, I have no interest in staying. I know nothing about the business. In fact, I’d be glad to sell my twenty-five percent to anyone who wants it and then I can be on my way back to Spain.”

Angélica sat back, petting her bird.

“I’m not a man of great ambitions,” I continued. “My one and only dream has always been to write a novel. It’s truly the only reason I agreed to accompany my wife on this odyssey.”

Angélica smiled for the first time. “How wonderful. Laurent is also artistic. At one point, he had literary ambitions himself. Didn’t you, querido?”

“Oui, chérie,” Laurent said.

Martin folded his arms across his chest, as though this was the most boring subject in the world.

Even though I was lying when I told them I would sell my portion of the estate, I considered the possibility for a moment. Did I really want to spend the rest of my life surrounded by these vultures? Wouldn’t it be better to go back to my country, where I still had friends who loved me, where I could see the magnificent Giralda bell tower from my window every morning, and where I could start a new business with my father’s money? But if I returned to Spain, I would be going back without my husband, thanks to someone in this room.

This was a matter of justice, not ambition. My sisters had my father to themselves their entire lives and it was apparent that they didn’t want to embrace me as one of their own, but instead, intended to wipe me off the face of the earth.

Tomás Aquilino stood. “In that case, Don Cristóbal, we can go back to town now and I can find you accommodations there.”

“Nonsense,” Catalina spoke in a firm voice. “Don Cristóbal is our late sister’s husband and the proper thing would be for him to stay here, with family. Don’t you think, Angélica?”

Angélica seemed taken aback, but remained silent.