—Hello, Aunt Beatriz. What’s a psychiatrist doing at my mother’s house without an invitation?
Beatriz paled.
“Roberto… I didn’t know you were here. I thought…”
“My mother is perfectly fine,” Roberto said coldly. “In fact, we’re working together. And I have a question for you. Who is ‘Inversiones Sierra SA de CV’?”
Beatriz stepped back.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do. It’s the company that wants to buy the ranch for next to nothing. And you’re acting as the intermediary.”
“That’s a lie!” she shouted. “I’m doing it for her own good! She’s crazy! She’s going to spend her savings on that ridiculous wall!”
—Get out of my house—I ordered, advancing—. Out with you and your doctor.
The psychiatrist tried to mediate. Roberto cut him off.
—Get out.
When they left, Roberto looked at me
—Mom, I’ve been looking into historical data. The winter of 1965 was brutal. Houses collapsed, livestock died. And it happened exactly sixty years after the great snowstorm of 1905.
—The cycle—I whispered.
—Yes. Dad was right. There’s a pattern. And if the calculations are correct… we have two weeks left