31. Daniela

Paula, Lara, and I are at a table in the corner of the ballroom that I’ve turned into a command center for the harvest activities I’m overseeing. The room is so large it takes up almost an entire wing of the house, although we won’t be holding any events inside, weather permitting.

Lara is making an effort—I think—although she’s made it abundantly clear that she doesn’t believe Paula should be involved in the preparations at this level.

But I want Paula to be heavily involved. I want her to learn everything there is about entertaining on this scale. The harvest happens every year, and eventually, I’d like her to be my personal assistant, and shift Lara to a more administrative role.

Paula doesn’t talk just to hear herself, and unlike Lara, she knows her place. That’s harsh. I sound like Antonio. I don’t mean to be a bitch. It’s just that Paula supports me at every turn, while sometimes it feels as though Lara supports only herself.

I open my tabbed notebook. “Let’s go over everything, one more time.” I read off the bullet points, one by one. “Valentina and I will handle all the planning for the children’s party—including the activities. But we’ll need all hands on deck during the event.”

My mother always had a big party for the kids, who don’t see much of their parents during the harvest. But this is the first year Huntsman Port is holding a children’s event. Antonio was all for it, when I told him, and Valentina is so excited about the event.

“Maybe we should cap the number of children,” Lara suggests. “If it’s rainy and windy, and they end up inside, it could be a catastrophe.”

“I don’t want to leave anyone out. If their parents work for us, they’re invited. We’ll have enough activities and enough supervision to make sure there isn’t a catastrophe.

“Lara,” I say, moving on, “you continue to keep track of the RSVPs as they come in, organizing them by event. And please start working on the seating arrangements for the formal event, so that we’re not doing it all at the last minute.”

This is where Lara excels. She knows who should be seated at the same table, and who should be seated on opposite ends of the tent.

“Also, don’t forget the favors need to be wrapped, and the baskets for the ladies’ and men’s rooms assembled.”

“Of course. Have we decided who will be in charge of the table settings and the flowers?”

I purse my lips, but keep my eyes on my notebook. We’ve been through this several times, but she just won’t let it go. I address my response, not to Lara, but to Paula. “You’ll take care of the table linens, the dish and glassware, the utensils, and the flowers. Victor and I will help.”

“I’ll have some time,” Lara says. “I can help, too.”

The table settings and flowers are sexier, and in general, more fun than seating arrangements. I get it, but Lara really does have plenty on her plate.

“We need to stay flexible,” I explain, “because at any given point, something could go wrong and we’ll need to adjust. But for now, I’d like us to focus on the tasks we’ve been assigned. It’s the best way to ensure that nothing falls through the cracks.”

Paula nods, but Lara sticks her nose back in the laptop without acknowledging me.

“Paula, starting this week, I want you to leave your work in the house to Johanna until the harvest and all the activities that follow are done.” She’s been training a young maid who will pick up the slack when she’s unavailable.

“Is she ready?” Lara asks, frowning at Paula.

Maybe Antonio’s right about her undermining me.

“Johanna’s ready enough,” I reply. “If the bathroom sinks aren’t wiped out every day and the towels replaced, we’ll survive.” I don’t mean to be glib, but it will do everyone some good, myself included, to clean up after ourselves for a few weeks.

“What about Senhor Antonio? He’s more particular.”

What she means is that Senhor Antonio is more refined than his wife. If only she knew the half of it.

I flash her a stiff smile. “Leave my husband to me.”

After reviewing my notes one last time, it looks like we’ve covered everything. “That’s all I have, ladies. Unless either of you have anything, let’s meet again on Wednesday. In the meantime, please don’t make any final decisions.” I say this for Lara’s benefit, because Paula doesn’t have the confidence to make independent decisions.

As Paula gets up to leave, Lara turns to me. “May I have a word with you?”

Oh, God.“Of course.”

She starts the moment Paula is out the door. “I didn’t want to say too much in front of her. But she’s a simpleton. The flowers and the table settings are important. They say a lot about whoyou are. Who your husband is. Leaving those decisions to someone who has been raised as she has will surely bring disaster.”

Good Lord. Could she be any more pretentious?If we wanted to say something about who my husband is, we’d give out sex toys that growl as party favors.

I draw a breath and try to find the patience to have this discussion.

“No one wants this to go well more than I do. But I think it’s a bit dramatic to say that somehow the wrong shade of camellias will create a disaster. There’s more of a chance for disaster if you sit the president with the prime minister.”

It’s tongue in cheek, because they’ve been at each other’s throats for weeks, but she’s so hell-bent on co-opting me to her position that it goes right over her head.

“It’s just—”

I hold up my hand. “Paula will be fine. Victor and I will make sure of it.” She doesn’t say anything, but I can see that I haven’t changed her mind. “Paula hasn’t been exposed to the world in the same way that you and I have been, so she hasn’t had many opportunities to learn. That doesn’t make her a simpleton. I would appreciate it if you don’t refer to her, or anyone else in this household, that way.”

“I apologize,” she gushes. “It was inelegant phrasing. You’re right. She just hasn’t had the experience.”

I nod. “I’m sorry, but I need to go. Victor’s expecting me.”

We leave without another word about floral catastrophes. But I have a feeling I haven’t heard the last of it.