Alberto came into the library.
“We will have two coffees, please, Alberto. And if there are any candied orange slices…el Coronel likes candied orange slices; he has since we were children.”
“Sí, Señora,” Alberto said, and left.
I don’t like candied orange slices. I haven’t liked them since I was fourteen or fifteen. Good God!
“Ambassador von Lutzenberger told Humberto that Jorge is to be decorated, posthumously, by the German governme
nt,” Beatrice said.
“He mentioned that to me.”
“And—I thought it would be nice, I’m trying to work it out with Monsignor Kelly—do you know him?”
Frade shook his head no.
“Very nice man. He handles important ceremonies for the Archbishop.”
“I haven’t had the pleasure.”
“Well, I thought it would be nice to have that ceremony—they pin the decoration to the flag, which will be covering the casket—outside Our Lady of Pilar. On the plaza, before the Archbishop celebrates the high requiem mass. Or do you think it would be better to do it after the mass, and before we take the casket to Recoleta?”
Has it occurred to you, my poor darling, that you are talking about a decoration to be awarded in the name of a mass murderer? For political reasons, not because poor Jorge did anything valorous?
“If you want my opinion, Beatrice, I would say that sort of decision would best be left to the Monsignor. You said his name was Kelly?”
“Yes. Monsignor Kelly. A fine and holy man.”
“Why don’t you tell him to do what he thinks is best?”
“You’re right, of course,” she said. “Have I told you about the reception?”
“No. You haven’t.”
“I was wondering…We’ll have it here, of course. It was Jorge’s home. Getting people in and out of their cars will be a problem. Especially if it rains. Otherwise, I suppose they could park their cars by Our Lady of Pilar and walk here from Recoleta. But if it rains, that would pose a problem, of course.”
“What were you wondering, Beatrice?”
“Mommy’s punch bowl. Do you have it here in the city? Or is it at the estancia?”
Mother’s punch bowl?
It was enormous. He suddenly remembered that he and Beatrice were whipped as children after filling it with a litter of nearly grown Llewellyn setters.
“I was thinking it would look so nice,” Beatrice explained, “filled with flowers, if we put it in the center of the foyer. We could move in one of the tables from the library and put it on that.”
“I think it’s here,” Frade said. “If it’s not…if it’s at San Pedro y San Pablo, I’ll have it brought to you.”
“Just the punch bowl. Not the cups.”
“Just the punch bowl.”
“You are always so kind to me, Jorge. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Don’t be silly, Beatrice.”
Alberto appeared with the coffee on a silver tray, a cortado for his mistress, and a café doble for Frade.