—Mom… these structural calculations are perfect. Drainage specifications, material strength… It was calculated for winds of over 140 kilometers per hour.
I handed him the letter.
—Read this.
Roberto read silently.
—“Sixty-year cycles… pressure anomalies…” he murmured. “Mom, are there more letters?”
—Yes. There’s one for every situation. Even one in case they tried to kick me off the ranch.
Roberto looked up.
—Kick you out?
—Or convince me to sell.
That night he saw a car stopped on the country road, lights off, two men looking toward the ranch. When we turned on the porch light, they sped off
“You were right,” Roberto said. “Something strange is going on here. And it’s not just the weather.”
From then on, we worked together. Roberto was strong and methodical. The wall grew quickly: stone, cement, perfect drainage. Meanwhile, he investigated “Inversiones Sierra SA de CV,” the company Beatriz mentioned so often.
One afternoon Beatriz returned, this time with a man carrying a briefcase.
—Margarita, this is Dr. Álvarez. Psychiatrist. He’s come to talk to you.
Roberto came out of the shed, his hands dirty with mortar.