“But it’s no longer a problem you need to solve.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means enjoy your dinner.”

I ended the call.

On December twenty-third, I picked Olivia up from the airport and drove north.

When we passed through the villa gate, she stared at me.

“Where are we?”

“Home.”

The house appeared around the curve.

Olivia stopped talking.

That alone was worth six million dollars.

She remained in the car.

“Margarita.”

“Yes?”

“Whose house is this?”

“Mine.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“Stop.”

I unlocked the door.

“Welcome.”

She walked slowly through the living room, kitchen, library, and finally onto the terrace overlooking the ocean.

“How?”

“With money.”

“What money?”

We sat down.

For the next hour, I told her about Armando’s investments, Leonardo, property sales, partnerships, and fifteen years of reinvesting.

“How much are we talking about?”

“A little under fifty million.”

She froze.

“Dollars?”

“Yes.”

She looked at my old handbag.

“That thing is eight years old.”

“It still works.”

She laughed, then her eyes filled.

“Why didn’t you tell Hugo?”

“At first because it was private.”

“And later?”

“I wanted to know how people treated me when they believed I had nothing to give them.”

Olivia lowered her eyes.

“Now you know.”

“Yes.”

Christmas Eve morning, Hugo called.

“Mom, I went by your apartment.”

“Why?”

“I wanted to bring something.”

“You could have called.”

“Where are you?”

“I told you. My house.”

“You actually bought another place?”

“Yes.”

“With what money?”

I smiled.

“That’s an interesting first question.”

“Mom.”

“We can talk another day.”

“I want to see you.”

“You have dinner plans.”

Then I heard Gabriel.

“Grandma?”

“Hugo, put him on.”

His small voice came through.

“Grandma, are you coming tonight?”

“No, sweetheart.”

“I want you to.”

“I want to see you too.”

“Where are you?”

“At my new house.”

“Can I come?”

“My door is always open for you. If your parents want to bring you for a few hours, you’re welcome.”

Carla took the phone.

“No. Gabriel is having dinner with us.”

“I understand.”

“You’re confusing him.”

“I’m not the person who excluded his grandmother from Christmas Eve.”

“Margarita, please don’t create a scene.”

Around me, Felipe’s staff carried dishes into the kitchen while Olivia arranged family photographs. Beyond the windows, the Pacific glittered.

“I’m preparing dinner, Carla. The scene is somewhere else.”