Luz García-Lacey said she had never been tempted to add any more hyphenated names after Lacey. ‘Boyfriends only. One husband was definitely enough,’ she said. She looked like Cecelia for a moment, when her eyes flashed. Then she settled comfortably back into her wrinkles and wattles and sighed.
‘But like every other woman in my family I always wanted a man around. Could not stand to live alone. And I liked the lively ones,’ she said. ‘The ones who wanted to go out nights, dance and play games. Each one brightened my life for a while, and when they grew tiresome I put them out. Boyfriends …’ Lying on her chaise in the shade, comfortable now in assisted living, she laughed and waved her hands in a gesture that said, What can you do? ‘After a while they get like yesterday’s fish.’
‘But your son,’ Sarah said. ‘They didn’t brighten his life as much, hmmm?’
‘He was jealous,’ Luz tossed her head, defensive. ‘He liked having me to himself and each time when I found a new man he resented the attention I gave him. Adolpho, the one who beat him up? That was an outrage, of course, and we broke up over it, but in a way I understood – when Eddie got anxious he could be an awful pest.’
‘So your son went to live with your brother-in-law.’
‘By now I’m sure you have heard from the whole family what a careless mother I was. It’s true; I was never cut out for the part. But it made Frank very happy to care for Eddie, and my boy thrived there, so where’s the harm?’
‘Everybody tells me about Frank’s good deeds,’ Sarah said. ‘Why did he want to help everybody, do you know? Was he very religious?’
‘No, not really. He went to church when we all did, as a way of celebrating holidays. No, I think it started when Anita died. My poor sister suffered very much in the last two days of her life. She could not give birth to the child, and the pain …’ Luz closed her eyes and shook her head. All the Garcías had a knack for story-telling, Sarah thought, and were particularly good at the silent pause that conveyed, Words cannot express. ‘… and then the baby died too, after they finally had the good sense to cut it out of her body, and to see it, just born and already exhausted … I think Frank suffered from survivor’s guilt after that. He was trying to do enough good to wipe out the evil in the world.’ A sad little chuckle. ‘Good luck with that, amigo.’
‘Why do you think he stole the money?’
‘He didn’t. I knew that man as well as I know myself, and I tell you, Frank could not have done that. It was not in his nature.’
‘But his signatures—’
‘I don’t know how that was arranged. Some clever, evil person … I know nothing about accounting so I cannot help with details. But look at how he lived, always so careful – he even carried his own lunch from home, like a schoolboy, in a dinner pail, with a thermos for coffee. So no, he was not taking money from the charities. I don’t know who did; I can only assure you that there is an explanation and if you look hard enough you will find it.’
‘That’s what we’re doing – looking hard at everything. And talking to everybody in the family … Which reminds me, your brother Guillermo lives in this facility too, doesn’t he?’
‘He does, but there is no use trying to talk to poor Memo any more. His mind is totally gone.’
‘Ah. I’m sorry to hear it.’
‘Yes, so are we all. It’s quite surprising, too, that he should be the one who loses his marbles. While I sit here, as Cecelia says, still thinking sinful thoughts as nimbly as ever. Cecelia, perhaps you have noticed, is the family judge. It’s a tough job but she feels uniquely qualified to do it. Memo was the family entrepreneur, the one who was clever and organized. He made plenty of money and had only one child. So we could usually tap him for a loan, which I think it’s safe to say none of us has ever repaid.’
‘So your family was blessed with two helpers?’
‘Yes. Unfortunately Memo’s help always came with good advice which was so hard to listen to that we put off going to him until we were truly desperate.’
‘But Frank didn’t give good advice?’
‘Or any other kind. That dear, sweet man. He would come to my door and say, “What can I do to help?”’
‘What kind of help did he give you?’
‘Everything from hauling away the broken furniture from the latest fight to re-stocking my empty food shelves – he did that one time when the brute I threw out stole all the money out of my purse before he left.’