“Welcome to the annual awards dinner of Arizona Prime Path Mortgage!” Samantha’s voice thundered into the microphone. “Tonight, we celebrate a great year in 2006. Let’s make it an even better 2007.”
Applause filled the room.
“There are those who say the subprime mortgage industry is unsustainable. Don’t listen to them. The companies that failed in this venture simply didn’t have the expertise. That’s why you work with and work for us. We know this business through and through and will not steer you wrong. Take my word: This business will remain lucrative for years.”
More applause. Leila smiled and clapped along with the others.
“Later this evening, I will pass out those beautiful awards.” Samantha motioned with her toned arm toward the table behind her, lined with glass trophies. “Plus, I have a few special gifts to give.”
Murmurs pulsed through the room. Leila hadn’t been to one of these events before but had heard from others how generous Samantha’s gifts could be.
“I feel like such a proud mother tonight, looking out there at your wonderful faces. We’ve done a lot together and been through a lot. I love you all, and I’m proud of each one of you.”
Leila knew from the glow on her face how genuine Samantha’s words were. Her boss was a ruthless businesswoman, but her kindness and generosity for those in her inner circle knew no limits.
“We all work hard at what we do. We work for excellence, for profit, and for the thrill of the business. Everyone wants to be here this weekend. You are here because you are the best. I’m looking at Paul Weidman, Jose Martinez, and Julie Jordan, my three top Realtors. I’m looking at my top loan officers, Cox McCann and Leila del Sol. I’m looking at Marshall Berg, our appraiser and best friend whenever we really need a property value. Finally, I’m looking at Christy Strahan of Prestige Title and Escrow, my partner in crime, who makes so many things possible.”
Someone started to clap.
“Yes.” Samantha began to clap as well. “A round of applause for all my stars.”
She waited for the applause to die down.
“We have worked hard all year. Tonight we play hard. Drink up . . . it’s all on me. Dinner will be spectacular. Indulge in and enjoy what, I have no doubt, will be a memorable evening.”
Samantha stepped down from the podium. The room buzzed from her infusion of energy.
A line of waiters emerged from the kitchen and placed a massive seafood tower on each table. Samantha had not been exaggerating. It was the most exquisite meal Leila had ever experienced. She was full before the main course even came: steak and scallops. Now she knew they were going over the top with the food on purpose. The room grew louder as wine was poured liberally at the tables while cocktails still came from the bar.
Let Cox think she was uptight for never drinking; she didn’t care. She always wanted to be alert and in control of herself and her situation. She needed to be. Drinking allowed others to relax. For someone like Samantha, who was so high-strung, it helped her unwind. But Leila didn’t feel relaxed unless she was sober.
After dinner, Samantha returned to the podium to give out the awards. Leila’s heartbeat quickened when she knew her turn was approaching.
“Come up here, Leila.” Samantha beamed across the room at her.
Leila stood and walked up to the stage. Samantha hugged her warmly. She always got affectionate when she had been drinking.
“Here she is, my beautiful protégé. Leila is here for the first time, after achieving second place in loan volume during her first full year with the company. You know I only bring two of my loan officers to this retreat each year. So, Leila, this is quite an honor.”
She handed a mounted glass plaque to Leila, then turned and smiled at the crowd.
“I have one more gift for you, dear.” Samantha returned to the award table with the microphone in one hand. She leaned down to pick up a small box. “A token of my love and gratitude, not only for your sales skills, but for the sweet charm you bring to the office every day.”
Leila opened the box and gasped. Inside was an elaborate silver necklace, full of sapphires encircled by tiny diamonds.
“May I?” Without waiting for an answer, Samantha unclasped the simple pendant Leila had worn, lifted her gift from its box, and clasped it behind Leila’s neck. “It looks just as spectacular on you as I knew it would. You wore the perfect dress to show it off, too.”
Leila was speechless. The necklace must have cost thousands of dollars. She loved it but didn’t think she’d feel comfortable wearing it. She wasn’t really a sapphires and diamonds kind of girl.
“A girl as beautiful and successful as you needs to show herself off. Never be ashamed of what you’ve accomplished.”
“Thank you.”
They hugged again. Leila returned to her seat, carrying her award and the box, with the necklace heavy against her chest. Really, what girl couldn’t be talked into being a sapphires and diamonds type?
Paul and Clary leaned in to “ooh” and “aah” at the piece.
Cox had already been called up to the podium.
“Once again, for the third year in a row . . . Cox McCann, the top-producing loan officer of Arizona Prime Path Mortgage.”
Leila watched as Cox took his award and new Rolex with all the entitlement she expected.
“Now, for the final acknowledgement of the night . . . come up here, Christy.”
Samantha always called Christy Strahan her partner, but Samantha towered over her, both physically and through intimidation. Leila had watched all year as Samantha wrapped Christy ever tighter around her finger. Tonight, Christy got her reward for what she endured.
“I don’t have an award for you, Christy. I can’t call you our top title rep because you’re our only one. But for everything you do, I have a special gift for you.” She produced an envelope and handed it to Christy. “Two tenth-row, fifty-yard-line tickets for next year’s Arizona State football season.”
Christy squealed with delight, slapping her hands against her cheeks.
“And . . .” Samantha shouted, “two tickets for all your Sun Devils’ Pac 10 road games!”
Christy almost collapsed from excitement.
Samantha gathered Christy in a hug. “You’ve earned it, hon.”
Leila smiled. In recent months, Christy’s patience had been running thin. Samantha had pushed a few loans through escrow on Cox’s behalf that never should have been allowed to close. With regulators tightening the screws on the industry, Christy was growing nervous. As big a football fan as she was, though, Samantha had surely just bought herself another year of favors.
That was the way in the mortgage business: high stress, high reward.
Leila listened to the room, loud with clattering forks and boozy laughter. Everything about this weekend was shamelessly superficial. At times, it was all she could do not to despise these people. It reminded her of high school, with all the little alliances and rivalries. Only the stakes were higher now.
What must they all think of her? Here by herself, sober and aloof, one of the few without a plus one. She was the outsider, the immigrant in the room at the back of the first floor.
Drinking a little might have helped her look more normal in this American corporate culture. But at what cost? What other social cues would she miss if she wasn’t completely in control of herself?
Dessert was served, but no one had room left for it. Leila cringed as the dessert plates were stacked and cleared with the cake smashed uneaten between them. The waste was an accepted side effect of the extravagance in America, but Leila would never get used to it. The memory of hunger never went away.
She resented the wastefulness. She couldn’t help it. She had watched children starve on the streets of Cartagena.
The party spilled out onto the veranda as people smoked, drank, and laughed over business stories and gossip. Samantha—so fierce at the office—was loving and happy, hugging everyone repeatedly.
&nb
sp; Leila sat by the fire in the cool evening, savoring the moment. She felt lucky to have won second place this year and doubted she would again. That was okay. She wasn’t in this job for the competition. She wasn’t in it to care what other people thought of her. It was about the security and confidence it gave her. That meant more to her than anyone at this party would ever understand. She was building toward something. One day, when she started a family, she could give her children a good life. When her father retired, she could take care of him. To think that she had come so far at her age, and to have built so much for her future . . . that was what she took pride in, not how many loans she closed.
Paul came toward her. He usually carried his large frame lightly, but his steps had grown heavier after many cocktails.
“Dahling, we are going to make so much money together.”
She smiled. “Oh? Do you have something up your sleeve?”
“Perhaps.”
“Sit down. Tell me about it.”
The Realtor scooted another wicker chair beside her and spilled the still nonpublic details of a major new construction development he would be representing on the outskirts of Phoenix. Leila knew she now had the inside track on making her company the preferred lender for the project.
Clary pulled Paul away, both of them laughing merrily. Leila remained in her seat by the fire. She would follow up with him about the project next week. Sobriety was good for making deals.
Soon, Cox had his arm around Samantha. They were laughing hysterically. Fortunately, Cox seemed to have given up on hitting on Leila, at least for tonight, but it was a little disgusting to see his effort turn toward their boss.
They both eased toward her on drunken legs.
“Oh, Leila, I just can’t believe how good that necklace looks on you.”
“You picked it out.”
“Like I told you earlier, you need to actually wear it.” Samantha pointed at her, her finger almost wagging. “I forbid you to sell it and send the money to your family.”
“What?”
“Your family back in Mexico. I know you send them a lot of what you make.”
Leila’s mouth gaped. She was too flabbergasted to say anything. Did Samantha really just go there? She tried to stay calm as her blood boiled. Samantha was just drunk. Cox too, standing there with a stupid grin.
“I’m not from Mexico.” It was all Leila could think to say.
“Whatever, whichever one of those countries you’re from. I mean, that’s why you haven’t bought your own house yet, right? I sign your paychecks, so I know you could afford it. But I suppose you have a lot of crop pickers to support.”
“My family lives here. My dad works for Intel.”
Samantha and Cox had already wobbled off.
Leila lurched up and walked to the edge of the veranda, then back to the same chair. She leaned back and took several deep breaths to steady her nerves.
Unbelievable. Did that really just happen?
These people were a means to an end for her. It didn’t matter what they thought of her. But she did care what they thought. She couldn’t help it. She hated when people—particularly Samantha, who should have known better—assumed things about her just because she was Hispanic.
If only she did have someone to share her abundance with. If she did, she would sell this damn necklace too. But the people she would like to help were so far beyond her reach now. They were beyond the arms of the naïve American charities and the corrupt Colombian ones. Helping was easier to think than to do in any effective way.
Looking back toward the party, she saw that it had begun to turn.
She had been the only sober one at many parties before, so she always noticed the turn. A critical mass had passed the state of happy drunkenness. From here they would either get sick, begin fighting with each other, or sleep with each other. Not wanting to witness any of those scenarios, she slipped back to her room and went to bed.
4
UP HERE IN the high desert, the morning was colder than Leila was accustomed to. She went back for a baggy sweater before stepping out into the crisp morning. After last night’s party, she wasn’t surprised that there was no movement in the hall. Everyone else would be asleep for a while. Closing the back door, she walked through the manicured grounds, then out of the property onto the desert path, feeling a few cool grains of sand dance up onto her feet. It felt good. No need to protect her pedicure now that the awards party was over.
She followed the sandy path down toward the valley that the house overlooked. On the rocky hillside, twisted pine trees spaced themselves at a respectful distance. The sand here was brick red. Down lower, it turned yellow, and far to her left it was brown. From behind her, the not-yet-risen sun lit the pink hills in the distance.
Her legs and feet were cold—bare in her shorts and sandals—while her upper body was warm in her favorite sweater. It was strange to feel cold outdoors. She usually only needed the sweater for air-conditioned rooms. She breathed in the crisp, fragrant air. The landscape was so different compared with Phoenix, only a hundred miles away. Here, desert and mountain met. The pines mingled with cacti on the hillsides.
Birds chattered from their perches. These same birds had jarred her out of sleep, but now she enjoyed the raucousness of their springtime passion.
As she neared the base of the valley, she saw a figure stooped toward the ground. Her first thought was to turn in another direction, but a flicker of recognition made her curious. She continued toward him.
Off of the wind-exposed hillside, shorter plants grew around her feet: stubby cacti, catclaw, aloe vera, and broom. The prickly pears had begun to burst with bright yellow flowers. She stepped carefully around the sharp tentacles.
The young man heard her coming and looked up. He had a sturdy bag beside him and held what looked like a paring knife. A larger knife sat on the ground nearby. A small yucca plant had been uprooted.
She remembered now where she had seen him, even though they had never spoken. He was Samantha’s son. Leila wished she had walked the other way after all. She would feel angry at Samantha for a while after last night and expected her adult son to have the same prejudices with an extra dose of entitlement. Now, here she was alone on an abandoned hillside and he with a couple of knives.
What was he even doing here, tagging along on his mother’s trip?
He looked at her with interest and set down the knife, straightening his tall frame as she approached. He slapped his hands together to shake off the dirt.
She was accustomed to men dropping what they were doing and giving her their full attention. It didn’t matter that she was fresh out of bed in a big sweater. Her thick hair must have been a sight.
This morning, when she set out on her walk, she hadn’t expected to have to be “on.”
“Harvesting some yucca root for breakfast?”
He laughed. The gentle tone of his laughter and the smile that accompanied it surprised her. There was a genuineness about him that she had not expected. She felt more at ease.
“There’s a different kind of yucca that grows here in the high desert,” he said. “It has many medicinal uses.”
“Are you a doctor?”
“Several rungs lower. I’m in nursing school at Arizona State.”
“I didn’t know they taught that sort of medicine there.”
“They don’t.”
She scoped out a rock and sat down about fifteen feet away from him, folding her arms.
He had neatly cut brownish-blond hair. His face had the glow that came from living in over three hundred days of annual sunshine and spending many of those days outdoors. It was a face that still needed some growing into; he would be more handsome in ten years than he was today.
“I know I’ve seen you before, but you always avoid everyone when we come to Samantha’s house. Why?” Leila asked.
“I’m not interested in her business or that world.”
Leila reached into her pocket for a rubbe
r band and tied back her rebellious hair. “Are you staying up there this weekend?”
“Yes.”
“Then you’re in that world whether you like it or not.”
He frowned. Not at her, she could tell, but at her words. She laughed, wanting to put a smile back on his face.
“At least a trip to Sedona gives you a chance to collect your specimens.” She hoped she hadn’t offended him. “I’m hardly one to talk. I’m as wrapped up in that world as anyone.”
She thought of all her colleagues and coworkers about to wake up to their hangovers in the house on the hill. Yes, she was part of that world, but she wasn’t of that world. She never could be. The world she lived in was hers alone. Not even her father was there with her. It was a lonely place, but she was used to it.
“You work for my mom, don’t you?”
“That’s right.”
“What do you think about the mortgage business? Do you feel good about the work you do?”
“Yes, I do. It’s all in what you make of it. I love helping people. I always try to do the job with integrity. There are others—”
“Don’t worry. I know the way my mom works. You won’t offend me.”
“I think I already have. But yes, without naming names, there are those who work in a way I wouldn’t be comfortable with. The medical profession probably isn’t all that different.”
He nodded.
“What’s your name?” She had never heard Samantha use her son’s name in the office.
“Ashford.”
“That’s a unique name. I’m Leila. I’d shake your hand, but . . .”
He looked down at his hands, caked with sand, clay, and bits of yucca root. They both laughed.
“Rain check on the handshake. It’s nice to meet you, Leila. Is this your first time in Sedona?”
The Exile Page 2
