Javier felt a knot in his throat.
“I know.”
“No, my son. I don’t think you know that. »
The old man leaned forward.
“I thought at least you knew me.”
Javier could not answer.
Don Ernesto continued.
“You could be wrong. You can get angry. You may even lose confidence. But when someone accuses a person of such a serious thing, you have to listen to them and check the facts before you convict them. »
“You’re right.”
“And an apology doesn’t automatically fix what happened.”
Javier acquiesça.
“I will do whatever it takes to face the consequences.”
His father watched him for a long time.
Finally, he stood up.
“Then start by accompanying me to the doctor.”
Javier looked at him, surprised.
“Now?”
“Yes. I need my jaw examined. »
This request, so simple and reasonable, was the first step towards a relationship that they would have to rebuild from its foundations.
Two hours later, Don Ernesto came out of a medical consultation with an injury that required follow-up, rest and treatment.
Javier insisted on keeping all the medical documents.
His father did not protest.
But he did not offer her forgiveness either.
When they returned, they found Lucía preparing a suitcase.
The burgundy dress was gone.
She was wearing black pants and a white blouse.
His face was pale.
“I’m going to my sister’s house,” she announced.
Javier put his keys on the table.
“We have to talk first.”
She closed her suitcase.
“I’ve already told you everything.”
“No.”
Her husband took out his phone.
“You still haven’t told me where my mother’s box is.”
Lucía looked out the window.
« Arturo l’a. »
“Where?”
“In his office.”
“He opened it?”
“I don’t know.”
Javier s’approcha.
“What was in it?”
“I don’t know, I swear to you.”
Don Ernesto was standing by the door.
He watched in silence.
Lucía opened her mouth, as if she wanted to add something.
But she ended by saying:
“There is one thing I have not told you.”
Javier felt unbearably tired.
“Another one?”
“Arturo asked me to look for a key.”
“What key?”
“A little silver key.”
Don Ernesto raised his head abruptly.
“With a blue ribbon?”
Lucía acquiesça.
The old man put a hand to his chest.
Javier looked at him worriedly.
“Dad, what’s the matter?”
Don Ernesto s’assit.
“That key belonged to Elena.”
Javier waited.
“Your mother always carried it on the end of a chain. After he died, I put it away with his things. »
“What does it open?”
“A safe.”
Javier frowned.
“In a bank?”
“Yes.”
“And what’s in it?”
Don Ernesto shook his head slowly.
“I don’t know.”
Lucía looked up.
“Arturo knows it.”
The two men turned to her.
“What do you mean, he knows?”
“A few days ago, I heard him arguing with Ricardo.”
“About what?”
Lucía took a deep breath.
“Ricardo said they couldn’t finish the operation until they found the key.”
Javier felt a great deal of anxiety.
“What else did he say?”
“That Elena had left a second copy.”
Don Ernesto closed his eyes.
The young woman continued.
“And that if you found it, you’d find out what happened to the money.”
These words changed the old man’s expression.
For the first time since the incident, something other than pain appeared on his face.
Hope.
“Elena knew,” he whispered.
Javier s’approcha.
“What did she know?”
“That Ricardo was not trustworthy.”
Don Ernesto got up and went to the sideboard.
He opened a small compartment.
He took out an old photograph.
It showed Elena sitting in a garden, smiling.
She was wearing a blue dress.
Javier must have been about thirteen years old when the photograph was taken.
Her mother was holding a small gift box.
Don Ernesto pointed to a blue ribbon that protruded from the side.
“Look at this.”
Javier examined the photograph.
“The key?”
“I think so.”
On the back were a date and a sentence written in Elena’s hand.
When you don’t know who to trust, remember where it all began.
Javier read these words several times.
“The place where it all started?”
Don Ernesto looked at the photograph.
“Our first home.”
Javier raised his head.
“The one in Toledo?”
“Yes.”
It was a small house that the family had lived in before moving to Madrid.
They had sold it more than twenty years earlier.
But Elena always had fond memories of this place.
Javier was born there.
They had celebrated his first birthday there.
His mother had planted a lemon tree in the courtyard.
“What does this have to do with this house?”
Don Ernesto looked at the photograph.
“Your mother hid small gifts in a metal box behind the lemon tree.”
Javier vaguely remembered this tradition.
