Emmy And Me

I managed to get back to my room without running into the Suárezes, to my relief. I just didn't feel like being sociable. All I wanted was a nice shower to wash off the day's sweat and then to slide into bed. It had been a long day, after all. It started out well, but the meeting with the Bocachica school's directors was frustrating. Irritating enough that I'd actually considered building a full-sized school to compete with the public school, but that was a fleeting thought. That may be necessary down the line, but for right now I'd just do what I could (without handing over any cash at all) to help the students attending the town's only school.

At the very least our presence was already having a positive effect on the locals. Both in Barrio Albornoz and in Bocachica I'd seen a fair number of Night Children without makeup, and that simple fact alone was gratifying. Even if nothing else we did meant anything, the Night Children of Cartagena were beginning to show some pride in their heritage.

Up early, I put in an hour on the treadmill in the hotel's fitness gym before returning to my room to answer work emails. At nine or so I went downstairs for breakfast, bumping into Katrina and her brother as they were leaving.

"I missed you yesterday," Katrina said to me after she told her brother that she'd see him at the office in just a few minutes and giving him a push out the door.

"Yeah, it was a long day," I agreed. "I didn't get back here to the hotel until after ten."

"What kept you out so late?"

"I had a dinner meeting with the director and sub-director of a school my non-profit is going to help out," I said, finding an empty table. Katrina joined me, and when I asked the waitress for coffee, so did Katrina. "The shitty part of it is that we want to help the kids, you know, but these two just wanted to shake me down a bit to see what they could get out of the deal."

"Seriously?" Katrina asked, appalled.

"In the end, I promised we'd buy textbooks and school supplies for the school, and provide free uniforms for the kids. No cash at all."

"You know they're going to try to figure out how to get their squeeze," Katrina said, making a face.

"Yeah, probably," I agreed. "But we're going to make that as difficult as we can. We're going to set up a distribution system independent of the school itself. The backpacks, uniforms and materials are going to go directly to the families off school grounds."

"You know, when you said you had a non-profit, I wasn't sure you were serious," Katrina admitted.

I laughed at that. "Yeah, I really do, and yes, we're spending literally millions of dollars here to build schools, community centers, and to refurbish parks and playgrounds. We're also improving infrastructure in some areas the local government has forgotten about, too. Quite a lot of Cartagena's poor subsist by fishing, and we're upgrading a couple of breakwaters to give them safer areas to beach their boats."

"When you say 'millions,' how many millions?"

"Our five year plan has a budget of twenty million dollars US, but it's heavily front-ended. Our construction is obviously the biggest expense, and that should be finished by the end of year two. After that it's mostly going to be maintenance and labor costs," I said.

"Are you freaking kidding me?" Katrina asked, stunned. "That's a lot of money!"

"It is," I agreed. "We'll have our annual budget review in a few months to see how we're doing, but so far we're doing better than expected cost-wise."

"Wow," Katrina said as she leaned back, her eyes wide. "So, like, this non-profit… You started it? I mean, it's yours? You're not working with any other NGO?"

"That's right," I confirmed. "It's a spin-off from my for-profit company. In fact, it sucks up a giant chunk of my company's profits."

"What else does your non-profit do? I mean…" Katrina said, trying to find the right way to ask her question. "So, why Cartagena? Because Angela was from here?"

"Sort of yes, but mostly no," I said. "We do all this in the US, Canada and Mexico already and have for years now. When Emmy and I came here to visit Angela's family and see the town she grew up in, I realized that there was a strong need here, too. Part of what's going on here is that I want to expand into the rest of South America eventually and so what we're doing here is a sort of blueprint or test case, maybe, for how to proceed down here in general. Feel free to put that in your dossier on me." I teased.

"Aw Jeeze," Katrina said, covering her pretty face with her hands. "You're never gonna let that go, are you?"

"Nope!" I confirmed with a grin.

"So what are you going to do today?" Katrina asked. "I'm supposed to spend the day at the office, but there's really nothing for me to do there."

"The only real plan I had was to meet with the locksmiths at eleven," I told her. "Maybe do some shopping after that- Like I said, no really solid plan."

"Locksmiths?" Katrina asked, puzzled.

"I bought a house here," I said with a shrug. "Changing the locks before I actually spend my first night there seems like a reasonable precaution."

"How long do you think that'll take? I get a lunch break from noon to two," Katrina said. "Maybe we can grab a bite?"

"It'll probably take a while. A few days, probably." I told her. "There are a lot of locks that need to be changed."

"What." Katrina said, giving me a flat look.

"Well, to be fair, they're home security specialists, not specifically locksmiths," I said, but judging by the look she gave me Katrina didn't find that to be much of an explanation at all.

"Maybe you can come by after you're done with work?" I suggested. "I could maybe cook something up."

"I'll text you when I'm done at the office," Katrina said, reluctantly getting up to leave.

After I finished my late breakfast I strolled leisurely to the lawyer's office to get the keys and the electronic lock code to the house. There were no speed bumps, so the process took just a few minutes and soon enough I was unlocking the door to let myself in. The guys were supposed to arrive in less than half an hour, so I took a few minutes to reacquaint myself with the house. After all, I'd only ever stepped foot inside just the one time before.

I was pleased to find that the kitchen was actually fully equipped with all the plates, forks and pans I'd need. I hadn't been really sure if the furniture that had been part of the package was a designer's staging or had the house been as the previous owners had left it. Thankfully it turned out to be the second, although my suspicion was that it had only ever been a pied-à-terre and not a full-time residence since everything seemed practically unused. Still, there were towels in the linen closets and glasses in the kitchen cabinets, so that meant there was much less for me to do to make the place livable.

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When the doorbell rang it took me a while to get downstairs to the front door, since the place was so large.

"It's hotter than a crack pipe out here!" Grant complained as he and another guy I didn't know picked up their bags and a giant suitcase to come inside, where the AC was set at a reasonable temperature.

"Leah, this is Mike Salvos. Mike, this is Leah Farmer," Grant said, introducing us. "Mike's the guy I was telling you about," Grant added, somewhat unnecessarily.

"Alright. Let's walk the place first so we can see what we're working with," Grant said. "Just leave our shit here for now, Mike," he said.

The three of us toured the house, looking at every room, from the wine cellar underground to the top sun deck above the pool house.

"This is really nice," Mike said, admiring the view of the atrium from the second story sitting area. "I had no idea that they had places like this down here."

"Colombia is the third largest economy in South America," I told him with a shrug.

"So, I hate to leap to conclusions, but it wouldn't surprise me at all if the previous owners had been cartel-affiliated," Grant said. "They've obviously put a lot of thought into security."

"As my father-in-law pointed out, that isn't conclusive. Plenty of Latin American rich people are targets for kidnapping or whatever, so they view security as crucial," I countered. "But honestly, it could be, either way."

"No, you'll find that true in a lot of places with extreme wealth disparity," Grant admitted. "You should see the mansions in places like Mumbai. Guarded like Fort Knox. Alright, well, this makes our job a bit easier," he said. "Not much we can do about the building next door, but it would take a committed crew with multiple ladders to get onto your pool deck, so we'll file that one as extremely unlikely, but possible."

I left the two to do whatever it was they needed to do and went down to the wine cellar to look at the bottles. This part was clearly staged, since the racks were nearly full of what turned out to be empties, all from the same vineyard. Curious, I examined the label and saw that it was from a winery there in Colombia- I'd had no idea they had a wine-making industry at all. Curious, I pulled my phone out and did some checking online.

"Hey, I'm going shopping," I told Grant when I found him and Mike in the house's utility room where all the home electronics were centralized. "I'll be back in a bit. Don't change the front door lock until after I come back," I joked, but he just waved distractedly.

It was a decent walk down to the wine store I'd found online, and Grant was right- it was hotter than a crack pipe out in the sun. The wine shop was smaller than I'd expected and the proprietor spoke less English than I spoke Spanish, but eventually we communicated enough that he showed me their selection of Colombian wines. While only a handful of wineries, he assured me that it was worth drinking. After I ascertained that the shop had delivery, I wound up buying every bottle he had to sell- I cleaned out the entire shop. By my rough estimate the cellar had room for a bit more than five hundred bottles, and the little wine shop might have had half that many bottles on display.

It took the two of us a good hour to write down every bottle on the shelves and tally up how much it all came to. The list was my receipt, and he promised that he'd have everything delivered by five that evening.

I paid him half, the other half to be paid on delivery, and I could tell that it had been a giant windfall and enormous headache for the guy all at the same time.

I stopped at a market on the way back to the house to buy a few essentials, vowing to make a much more complete shopping trip some other time when it wasn't so damned hot.

Mike and Grant were busy testing the house's wifi and internet latency when I got back. I offered them something to drink and they both gratefully accepted bottles of water, even though the bottles weren't cold.

"So, can I stay here tonight?" I asked Grant.

"I don't see why not," he replied, taking a big swig. "Once we change the codes and key on the front door lock the house will be reasonably secure. It'd take a concerted effort to get in here."

"Cool," I said.

"I wouldn't call this house a fortress," Grant cautioned, "but any aggressor will have to come pretty well prepared if they hope to get in before the gendarmes arrive."

"Good enough for me," I told him.

"Interestingly, the house is wired for remote surveillance. You'll be able to see any intruders from your smart phone or computer back in the States," he added.

"I imagine you'll change all the access codes for that stuff?"

"Already done," he said. "I'll show you all the hidden cameras when we're done here."

"So how long do you think this whole process will take?" I asked.

"We'll be out of your hair by the end of the day tomorrow," Grant assured me. "Like I said, this is going a lot more smoothly than we'd expected."

"Then don't kill yourselves today," I told him. "You had a long flight to get down here. Knock off at a reasonable time and go out and have a nice night on the town."

"Any reason you're trying to get rid of us?" Grant asked, teasing.

"Yeah, I've got a hot date coming over this evening," I told him, getting the surprised look I was hoping for. "No, just kidding, but I do have a friend coming over to see the new house. Tomorrow I'm gonna bring the Castros over to help me make the place a little more livable."

The van with nearly thirty cases of wine showed up just as Katrina texted me. I shot her the address as the two delivery guys and I carried the boxes into the entryway. We had just finished going over the list to make sure it was all there when Katrina poked her head in the doorway, unsure if she had the right place.

"Hey, Kat," I said. "Come on in. Let me pay this guy and I'll give you the tour."

"You know, I expected some sort of penthouse in Bocagrande, not an old house in the walled city," Katrina said as she entered, looking curiously at the boxes of bottles.

"I already have a penthouse apartment," I said. "I wanted something different."

"In Bocachica?"

"No, London," I answered as I shut the door after the delivery guy left.

"You have a penthouse apartment in London?" Katrina demanded.

"I'm surprised it isn't in your dossier," I told her.

"O.K., look," she said, putting her fists on her hips. "I am so over that whole CIA thing."

"I'll give it a rest," I told her, since it really did seem as if I was pissing her off. "Here- give me a hand and grab one of these boxes, will you?"

The cases of wine weren't super heavy, but they weren't really light, either, and by the time she'd followed me down into the cellar she was very ready to set the box down.

"I'll put these away tomorrow," I told Katrina as she looked around, stunned.

"Who has a freaking wine cellar in Colombia?" Katrina demanded.

"Let me give you one guess," I said as I swapped out the full bottles in the box for empty ones from the rack.

"Well, O.K., Miss Smartypants," Katrina said as she looked at what I was doing. "These are all empty?"

"Yeah," I said. "I figure they did that so the room would look full, but never actually bothered to use this place as it was intended."

"So that's why you have dozens of boxes of wine upstairs?"

"Exactly," I confirmed.

"So, give me the tour. Afterwards I'll help you with this," Katrina said, indicating the boxes and the wine.

"We'll be back tomorrow," Grant said when he and Mike found Katrina and me in the kitchen.

"Just let yourselves in," I told him. "I'm going out to the island first thing."

"Roger that," Grant said.

"The locksmiths?" Katrina asked after Grant and Mike had gone. "They're American?"

"As apple pie," I told her.

"This house," Katrina said as we continued the tour. "I gotta tell you, it's a real panty-dropper."

"It is nice, isn't it?" I asked. "It needs some personalization, but I like it."

"I'm serious, Leah. This is pure class."

"Somehow 'pure class' and 'panty dropping' don't really play well in my mind," I told her with a laugh.

"You told me you're spending twenty million on your non-profit down here," she said as we arrived at the small pool. "But this house must have cost you a couple of million dollars."

"Real estate isn't as cheap here as you think," I told her. "This was more than just a couple of million dollars."

"How many?" Katrina asked, but it was clear she understood the question was a bit rude.

"Six," I told her. "But that included the furniture. And the empty wine bottles."

"Seriously, I've seen some nice houses in Miami, but this… I mean, it's not waterfront or anything, but…" Katrina said.

"You can see the water from the top deck," I told her. "That's close enough for me."

"I guess the car business pays well," Katrina said with a sort of laugh.

"Nah, not as well as you'd think," I told her. "Real estate- that makes money. Car dealerships, not as much as you'd imagine, given how capital-intensive they are."

"I wouldn't know, since I don't actually own any Porsche dealerships at all," Katrina replied as we made our way back downstairs.

"I only own just the one," I said. "That's not very many more."

"When you put it like that," Katrina said and I could hear the smile in her voice.

The two of us spent a couple of hours carrying wine downstairs and exchanging the full bottles for the empties, which we put in the boxes and carried back up to the entry.

"I didn't actually get anything to cook tonight, so let me take you to dinner," I told her when we finished. "There's a place a couple of blocks away I'd like to try."

"Do I need to dress up?" she asked, looking down at her 'office casual' outfit she'd work to work.

"No, don't worry about it. You look great."

"Thanks," she said with a half-hearted smile.