The Hidden Light of Mexico City

by Carmen Amato

  The circular drive bordered a flagstone courtyard. The focal point was a stone fountain nearly six feet in diameter. It was dry, which wasn’t surprising given Mexico City’s perennial water shortage, and the huge basin was filled with pots of red geraniums.

  “This is lovely,” Luz said, looking around. A large two-storey stucco house surrounded the courtyard on three sides. It had been built a long time ago in the massive Spanish colonial style, with a clay tile roof, gray stone sills, and tall narrow windows. More pots of red geraniums abounded, along with lemon trees and flame-flowered corona de Cristo. Clematis and bougainvillea softened the corners of the house. The salmon stucco, gray stone, and bright flowers made a striking combination.

  “I like it, too.” Eddo led her past the fountain, through a stone archway in the left wing of the house, to a covered loggia supported by massive stone columns.

  “Look.” Luz pointed up. Several multi-pointed Moravian star lanterns glowed overhead. “We saw those everywhere in San Miguel.”

  “So we did,” Eddo said.

  The carved front door was open. They walked into a wide hallway with a high ceiling. Another Moravian star lantern hung down like a chandelier. A maid appeared and extended a tray with two champagne flutes. Eddo took both glasses and handed one to Luz.

  “Thank you,” Luz said. She smiled at the maid. The girl was wearing a white blouse, black jeans, and a salmon-colored chef’s apron. Her short permed hair was pulled off her face with a salmon-colored hairband. Not only was the maid unusually dressed, but she matched the house.

  “Por nada, señora.” The maid blinked at Luz, the tray vibrating in her hands.

  It felt odd to be addressed as señora by a maid. Luz smiled again, wishing the poor girl didn’t look so petrified.

  “Thank you,” Eddo said and the girl left the room.

  Luz sipped her champagne and looked around nervously. They were alone in the sala. It was a huge living room, with a bank of arched windows on a long wall. Opposite the windows, a wide staircase with an iron handrail curved up to the second floor. The stair risers were inset with traditional blue and white azulejo tiles. The size of the room was magnified by high ceilings, exposed beams, and a stucco fireplace that ran the length of the far wall.

  The architecture was old-fashioned and magnificent, but the room was stark and bare. The walls were white and completely undecorated. The floor was made of polished gray stones laid in a herringbone pattern. The room was sparsely lit by two crystal and wrought iron ceiling fixtures, insufficient for such a large space. The need for table lamps was apparent but the only things in the room were three furniture-sized lumps hidden under bubble wrap and brown paper. Two wrapped packages the sizes of framed pictures were propped against a wall.

  “Have these people just moved in?” Luz asked.

  “I guess so,” Eddo said.

  “And they’re hosting a party?” Señora Vega would have died rather than host a party in a less than perfect house.

  “Let’s look around,” Eddo said.

  “Yes,” Luz said. It was better to just get the despedida over with. “Let’s go find this party.”

  They walked across the big sala to a set of white painted French doors. Eddo opened the doors and flicked a switch.

  Luz gasped.

  The room on the other side of the French doors was a formal dining room, a true comedor, with a vaulted boveda ceiling. The bricks were old and narrow, making the room appear even higher and wider than it was. Below the soaring brickwork, the two long walls were golden. The wall at the end of the room was made of old stonework into which was set another pair of French doors.

  “Like it?” Eddo asked.

  “Dios mio, it’s gorgeous,” Luz breathed, staring upwards. “Doesn’t this remind you of the restaurant in San Miguel?” She walked to the nearest long wall and ran her hand over it. The stucco had been gold leafed by a master craftsman. The effect was luminous. Luz had never seen such a room.

  “But do you like it?”

  “I love it. Can’t you just imagine sitting at this table for hours and hours? Nobody would ever want dinner to end.”

  There was a long rectangular pine table in the center of the comedor, large enough to comfortably seat two dozen people. It was dark with age, with legs as thick as Luz’s waist. A matching sideboard at least eight feet long was pushed against one gilded wall. Luz ran her fingers along the edge of the table, the beaded evening bag dangling from her wrist by its chain. “If this was my party, I’d keep the doors open and use the sala and the comedor at the same time. You could do a buffet for 200.”

  “Really?” Eddo said. He steered her through an archway in the gold leaf and they found themselves in a breakfast room full of large wooden crates and cardboard boxes. On the far side of that room there was a door with an inset window so the help could see if el señor and la señora were finished with the meal.

  They walked through it into a large kitchen with dark wood cupboards and stainless steel appliances. The maid who’d brought the champagne was there, along with two other maids similarly dressed. All three immediately bobbed curtsies.

  “Señor, do you need something?”

  Eddo shook his head. “Just showing la señora around.” He turned to Luz. “This is the kitchen,” he said unnecessarily.

  Luz took his hand and pulled him back into the sala. He seemed more nervous about the party than she was.

  “Let’s check out upstairs,” Eddo said and trotted up the wide staircase.

  “Eddo!” Luz hissed. He didn’t turn around. Luz had no choice but to follow him upstairs, cursing whoever had hosted this maldita despedida and then hid it.

  The landing at the top of the stairs was bigger than the living room in Veracruz. Four doors opened off it.

  “Three bedrooms, each with their own bathroom,” Eddo said, suddenly sounding like a salesman.

  “That’s nice--,” Luz started to say.

  “This is the master bedroom.” Eddo opened a door.

  Luz pursed her lips, unable to believe his audacity, but the room was sensational with another enormous vaulted brick boveda ceiling. Like the sala, the room had no furniture in it although a large pewter chandelier hung from the center of the vault. The walls below the vault were creamy white stucco. There was a fireplace at one end of the room, which struck Luz as an unbelievable luxury.

  “Ever sleep in a bedroom with a fireplace?” Eddo asked.

  “Rodrigo.” Luz touched his arm. His muscles were like iron under the fluid wool of his jacket. “We shouldn’t be up here. We should ask where to go for the party.”

  “Right,” Eddo said. He walked to the hallway, opened another door, and flipped a switch. Light illuminated a flight of narrow stone stairs.

  He started up the stairs, turned at a landing, and disappeared. His footsteps echoed against the stone as he climbed.

  “Eddo!” Luz exclaimed.

  Above her, Eddo’s footsteps stopped. “Are you coming?” he called.

  Luz reluctantly mounted the stairs, her high heels clicking on the stone. The stairs turned twice before she walked through an open door.

  Eddo was standing in the middle of the most beautiful sunroom she’d ever seen. It was a perfect half circle of floor-to-ceiling palladium windows. The stairway entrance was centered in the one flat wall so that the windows curved around it. Another brick ceiling rose and arched above the windows and the plank wood floor. The faded red boveda brickwork continued down the walls but the windows were set close together so that only 18 inches or so of brick showed between the white painted window moldings. The thick walls caused the windows to be recessed into niches and there was a seat built into each niche below the glass. The windows reflected the light from two wrought iron chandeliers, obscuring the milky darkness outside and emphasizing the fact that the room was completely empty.

  “This is incredible,” Luz murmured. Despite her misgivings about wandering through a strange house, she drifted to the c
enter of the room and looked around. One window was wider than the others and she realized it was a set of French doors. There was probably a rooftop patio.

  “Wouldn’t this make a great studio?” Eddo asked. His voice almost echoed in the vast space.

  Luz revolved, taking in the complicated masonry, the dramatic window seats, and the dark wood floor. “What, to paint in?”

  “Yes.”

  “It would be fabulous.” The room was large enough to accommodate any number of huge canvases. The windows would let in as much light as la sopa allowed. Luz swept her gaze around the room once more and sighed. “Let’s go. The despedida has to be somewhere.”

  “Wait,” Eddo said.

  Luz suddenly wondered if he was ill. A cord in his neck throbbed above the collar of his shirt. His hands were rolled into fists and his knuckles were white. “What’s the matter?” she asked in alarm.

  “I lied to you, Luz,” Eddo said. He turned away from her. “Knew I was lying when I said it. Said I wanted to wait until Monday to talk about us, but I lied.”

  “You want to talk now?” Luz dug her fingernails into her palm.

  “I thought I could bribe you, but I was fooling myself,” Eddo went on. “We’d both always wonder.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I need to know right now, Luz, before we go any further.” Eddo spun around. His hazel eyes blazed. “Yes or no. Are you going to marry me or not? You’ve had two months. If you haven’t decided by now, you never will.”

  “Now?” Luz asked faintly.

  “Right now.” Eddo crossed the space between them, took her hand, and sank onto one knee. “For the third time, Luz de Maria Alba Mora, will you marry me?”

  Luz’s eyes slid away from his, unable to deal with the emotion and the immediacy she saw there. He wasn’t supposed to be asking now. The despedida was supposed to decide.

  The despedida was supposed to decide. Her brain did acrobatics as Eddo knelt in front of her. These floors needed polishing. His pants were getting dirty. People had just moved in. They didn’t even have furniture yet.

  Her cell phone rang.

  Chapter 89

  To Eddo’s amazement Luz jerked her hand out of his grasp.

  “My phone,” she said breathlessly. “Maybe it’s Juan Pablo. He’s in Guadalajara.” Eddo went to say something then shut his mouth as Luz fumbled for her evening bag. She got the phone out but the bag slipped away from her and fell with a beaded chime onto the floor.

  Eddo got to his feet and walked away. He stood facing one of the windows, his back to her. He watched her reflection in the window, phone pressed to her ear. Her mouth moved but he had no idea what she was saying. Her bag was still on the floor. He wondered if another man had called her.

  The room was warm. Eddo took off his jacket and laid it on one of the window seats with exaggerated care. He loosened his tie and sat down, refusing to face the truth but knowing that he couldn’t avoid it much longer. He hunched over with his elbows on his knees, hands clasped together, and stared at the floor. He’d killed two men and survived a fight for his life without flinching. But right now he wasn’t sure he could hold it together.

  “Thank you very much,” Eddo heard Luz say into the phone. “I’ll call you back on Monday.”

  She broke the connection and came over to him. She stopped when the full skirt of her dress brushed his clasped hands.

  He didn’t move or speak.

  Luz reached out and touched his head where the hair had turned gray over the scar. He couldn’t help reacting then, turning his head slightly so that her hand brushed his cheek.

  “I’m sorry,” Luz said. “I said in San Miguel that I needed time to think. But I just wasted all that time worrying. We’ll never get those months back. If you want to be mad at me I’ll understand.”

  Eddo closed his eyes. There was nothing to say. Maybe she’d loved him once or maybe she’d confused it with an emotional rush from what had happened to both of them. Maybe San Miguel had been some forbidden fun for her, but when she got back home she realized that she didn’t love him. Or like Pilar had implied, Luz was smart enough to know he was no bargain, that his lifestyle was a chance she wasn’t ready to take. Whatever it was, he’d been too caught up in Arturo’s campaign and the hunt for Gomez Mazzo to see it.

  “That’s not all I’m sorry for.” Luz’s voice was as shaky as he felt. Good, so this was hard for her. “I’m sorry, too,” she said. “Because I don’t know how to be a politician’s wife.”

  Eddo still didn’t speak. He didn’t trust his voice.

  “I don’t know how to do a lot of things you need a wife to do,” Luz continued. “It would be different if you were the type who wanted to count plates in Puebla. But I probably wouldn’t feel the same if that’s the sort of person you were.”

  She stepped closer, between his knees now and again Eddo couldn’t help himself. He slid his arms around her and pressed his cheek into the waist of her dress. Luz stroked his head and he felt himself shudder.

  “I’m sorry,” Luz said. “I love you, but I don’t know to do those things.”

  “Yes, you do,” Eddo said against her dress.

  Luz kissed the top of his head, then pulled his hands away, forcing him to him sit up. Eddo felt her press something into his palm and saw the white quartz stone from San Miguel.

  “Just don’t open your hand,” Luz said. She curled his fingers around the stone. “I’ll hold onto you and you’ll hold onto me. You can teach me the things a politician’s wife is supposed to do. Like driving the car. We’ll make all our dreams come true together.”

  She moved back a step.

  Eddo slowly uncurled his fist. He stared at the stone, reconciling her words with what he’d been so sure of two minutes ago, then pushed himself off the window seat and walked past her. He put the stone in his pants pocket and picked up her beaded evening bag. He came back to the window seat and placed it carefully on top of his suit coat.

  “Nice purse,” he said.

  Luz blinked at him. “Thank you.”

  “So.” Eddo moved away from her. “Let’s get this issue cleared up once and for all. Are you going to marry me or not, Luz de Maria Alba Mora?”

  “Yes,” Luz said. “I’m going to marry you, Eduardo Martín Bernardo Cortez Castillo.”

  “Are you sure?” He paced slowly across the wooden floor without looking at her.

  “Positive,” Luz said. She paced in opposition to him. “I hope that coincides with your plans.”

  “What about the high class bitches and gossips?” Eddo clasped his hands behind his back.

  “I’ve learned a new phrase,” Luz said. She stopped pacing to make a dismissive gesture. “It goes like this. ‘Chingate.’”

  “I see.” Eddo tried to keep from grinning. He paced to the right. “Will you take de Cortez as your name?”

  “If my future husband so desires.” Luz paced to the left.

  Eddo inclined his head. “He does.”

  “Then I shall be proud to practice saying Alba de Cortez.”

  Eddo stopped pacing and turned around to face her. He folded his arms across his chest. “When?”

  “Whenever you like,” Luz replied evenly.

  “Tomorrow,” he said. It was a challenge.

  Luz raised her eyebrows. “As it happens I’m free tomorrow. I had an important conversation on the agenda but it appears to have been overtaken by events. And it was with some crazy liar so it probably wasn’t important.”

  “Good,” Eddo said.

  “Good,” Luz said.

  They stared at each other from opposite sides of the space, light from the chandeliers reflecting off the windows.

  “FINALLY!” Eddo shouted. He charged across the room and swept up Luz in his arms. She shrieked with laughter as he swung her around the huge half circle. When Eddo stopped he sank his mouth onto hers. They kissed again and again, laughing and clutching at each other.

  Footsteps sc
raped up the stairway.

  “Wow, Luz,” Juan Pablo blurted. “You look like a movie star.”

  Chapter 90

  I’m hallucinating, Luz thought. Overexcitement and too much kissing. Or maybe the spa stylist had twisted her hair too tightly.

  But it was Juan Pablo, wearing his graduation suit and a Pineda Covalin tie exactly like Eddo’s. He was holding hands with the girl from the newspaper. Carolina Porterfield looked much younger in a pink flowered sundress and flat sandals. Her hair fell in soft waves over bare shoulders.

  “She said yes,” Eddo said, grinning broadly. “Yes. Just now.”

  “This is so great, Luz!” Luz found herself enveloped in a bear hug. Juan Pablo squeezed until she couldn’t breathe, much less think. When he let go Carolina hugged Luz.

  “I’m Carolina.” Her Spanish was heavily accented. “I think it’s wonderful that you’re going to marry Tío Eduardo.”

  “This is so great. This is so great.” Juan Pablo hugged Eddo as if congratulating a good friend.

  “I know you’re Carolina,” Luz said.

  “Was it the house?” Carolina grabbed Luz’s hands. Her accented words tumbled out happily. “It must have convinced you, right? I just knew it would.”

  “This is so great. Isn’t this a great house?” Juan Pablo grabbed Luz again and kissed her cheek. “It made you decide, didn’t it?”

  Eddo grabbed Luz from behind and pulled her away from Juan Pablo. “Hold on, everybody,” he said. “We didn’t get to the house yet.”

  “You didn’t tell her?” Juan Pablo asked in surprise. Carolina reattached herself to him.

  Tell me what? Luz wanted to say but her brain had turned into masa dough.

  “No.” Eddo grinned at Juan Pablo and Carolina. “She said yes first.”

  “All right,” Juan Pablo said happily. He and Eddo exchanged knowing glances then Juan Pablo grabbed Luz from Eddo and hugged her all over again. “Luz, this is even better. Congratulations. This is great.”

  They were handing her around like a rag doll. It was too surreal. Luz grabbed Eddo’s arm. “How do you know my brother?”