The Farenzi Files

By Alberto Benet Noguera

Theres a secret hidden in The Farenzi Files
A passionate love story. A fast-paced adventure. A spellbinding whodunit. An intriguing medical mystery. And a sweeping multigenerational epic that spans the twentieth century and much of the globe-from Mexico to Italy and beyond.
The Farenzi Files is all these things and more. At once thrilling, heartbreaking, and inspiring, this is a deeply moving and gripping tale like no other youve ever read.
We enter the world of The Farenzi Files in the Mexico City of the early 1970s, when Aurelio, a construction engineer, meets the love of his life, a brilliant psychiatry student named Ofelia.
But the story really starts decades earlier, with the harrowing escape from war-torn Europe by a beautiful young Italian woman named Lucrezia Farenzi. She risks her life to cross Nazi-occupied France and the vast Atlantic Ocean, under constant threat of attack from German subs and bombers, trying to reach an unlikely destination that didnt even exist in the mental geography of most Europeans-the town of Tulancingo in the Mexican state of Hidalgo.
All the while, Lucrezias father, a good and honorable family doctor in Rome, has made an amazing medical discovery that has the capacity to change the world-for better or for worse, depending on whose hands it falls into.
This is the long-lost secret that eventually dominates the lives of Aurelio and Ofelia, turning their ideal marriage into a fevered quest for the hidden formula. Through it all, their intense, almost-mystical love gives them strength-until tragedy strikes.

Praise for The Farenzi Files
A detective story worthy of Agatha Christie. The Farenzi Files teems with intrigue and mystery, as unknown forces stop at nothing, including murder, to get their hands on a medical formula. Written in nimble, staccato-like prose, this is an engrossing novel thats a pleasure to read. I couldnt put it down until the final outcome.

Oscar Pandal Graf, philologist and bibliophile

• Language: English
• Publisher: Palibrio
• Release date: Sep 17, 2014
• ISBN: 9781463392222

Alberto Benet Noguera

Alberto Benet (México, 1952) está casado y tiene dos hijas. Es economista y especialista en administración de riesgos. Trabaja y reside en la Ciudad de México. Es autor principal del libro, Para Vivir Seguro, editado por Santillana Ediciones Generales del grupo Penguin Random House Su novela es un tributo a los emigrantes en búsqueda de la libertad y que dedicaron con pasión su vida al bienestar de la humanidad.

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Copyright © 2014 by Alberto Benet Noguera.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Rev. date: 07/10/2014

Palibrio

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CONTENTS

I   The Day I Met My Beloved Ofelia

II   The Great Dr. Farenzi

III   Good-bye to war

IV   The Crossing to America

V   From Halifax to Mexico

VI   Life in Tulancingo

VII   The Fichera Crisis

VIII   Farenzi, the Visionary

IX   Efforts Rewarded

X   Paolo Capellini’s Nautical Emporium

XI   My Dream Come True

XII   Dr. Farenzi’s Boxes

XIII   The Search for the Eight Elements

XIV   The Farenzi Foundation

XV   The Rules of Life

XVI   God, a Creation of Man

XVII   Voyage to the Bottom of My Mind

XVIII   Escape from Depression

XIX   Springtime

XX   The Inspector and the Detective

XXI   The Murder of an Innocent Elderly Lady in Vienna

XXII   The Guanaco Gang

XXIII   Alejandro Harrison, the Intellectual Author

XXIV   The Giant Pharmaceutical

XXV   Life is Beautiful

XXVI   A Happy Birthday

With all my love to my wife Hilda and my daughters

Ana Gabriela and Sofia

I

THE DAY I MET MY

BELOVED OFELIA

Don Aurelio, said Manolo, "I’m going out to buy some cigarettes. Would you like me to bring you a coffee?

No thank you, I answered. My mind was wandering, lost in the past.

I remember it as though it had happened yesterday. It was summer, more than 20 years earlier than Manolo’s offer, and well over 30 years ago now. I was remembering having coffee with Sr. Girau in a restaurant next to Lake Chapultepec. Girau was a man of 60, single, never had kids. He planned to go live in New York.

His meeting with me had a clear objective — he wanted me to manage his real estate business there in Mexico City. Girau was a real estate administrator, mainly for foreigners living in Mexico.

I was listening to his proposal without moving my gaze from the lake shore. A young woman, 22, maybe 24, years old, came into view. She looked amazing as she ran along the shore elegantly and effortlessly, strong yet delicate.

It was a sight I remember to this day, as if I were living it now — the way her long, golden hair waved rhythmically in the breeze like wheat fields in late summer.

She was one of those beautiful women you can’t take your eyes off of. Her gorgeous legs had the firmness of an amateur athlete. Her outfit consisted of white tennis shoes, sky blue shorts — the kind women wear when they play tennis — and a white polo shirt.

She reminded me of an impala gliding across the great fields of the Serengeti — a beautiful woman moving with confidence and grace.

My brief moment of ecstasy was interrupted by Sr. Girau’s loud cough.

It seems to me you’re not all that interested in this subject, he said.

No, no, forgive me, I told him. It’s just that…didn’t you see how beautiful that woman was?

No I didn’t, he answered. What I did see was that you left me talking without paying any attention to what I was saying.

He paused and went on, Look, your aunt spoke wonderfully of you. She said you’re a restless boy who works hard, intelligent, responsible, that you studied civil engineering, and that you’re in the construction business…

Here I couldn’t help but interrupt Sr. Girau. And I love what I do! I even love the smell of concrete after casting ceilings.

Good, good, Girau said. "The thing is, I’ve managed real estate my entire professional life and I’ve done well for myself. But now a very good friend of mine who’s lived in New York for quite some time has invited me to be his partner in his art gallery there.

Painting, sculpture, art….. I’m passionate about them. And I want to dedicate the final years of my life to doing something I enjoy, buying and selling works of art. And that’s something that’s going to require all my attention. The problem is, my clients in Mexico need attention too.

So, then, my purpose in seeing you today is to talk about the idea of you and I becoming partners. You would manage the business. It’s a noble business. It’s like a milk cow — if you take care of it, it will make you a lot of money. There’s a lot responsibility involved, though, in properly managing the real estate assets of our clients.

I remember that as I listened to him go on, I was trying to think of a way tell him that I wasn’t the slightest bit interested in what he was proposing. It couldn’t imagine a bigger pain in the ass than having to talk to the tenant in apartment 8 because she’s late with the rent. Or arguing with the guy in 4 about the toilet that keeps stopping up because the slob uses too much toilet paper. Or dealing with the one in 10, who keeps complaining that when the couple upstairs get amorous, the woman moans and screams like crazy.

No way, I repeated to myself. What an insufferable bore all that would be.

Sr. Girau was saying, Besides offering you a good salary, with time I’d be willing to offer you a piece of the action. And eventually, if everything goes well, I’d like for you to have the business.

Don Girau, I said. I’m very grateful for your trust in me and your generous offer. But for now my plan is to continue working for another year or two and then study for a master’s in business.

Don Girau, taken aback by my blunt rejection, asked me if they hadn’t already taught me enough in the university. I stayed silent for a bit, observing his bewildered expression.

Then I explained to him that I had learned enough about engineering as it applied to construction, but that my goal was to acquire knowledge in other areas that would complement what I already knew. I wanted more and better preparation.

It’s a competitive world these days, I said. "That’s why I’m interested in knowing marketing and finance. I want to be an expert in sales strategies and how to use financial resources and credit to be able to develop projects.

Sr. Girau, I love construction. And I’ve seen what my clients earn by building and selling buildings. They make their capital grow like they’re fattening sheep in the country. So the better prepared I am the more opportunities I’ll have for success in life.

I agree, Sr. Girau said. But I’m convinced that experience in life is worth more than elegantly framed diplomas that you hang up behind your desk. Don’t my years of professional experience count? I could teach you everything I’ve learned and in the end you’d be the owner of a profitable business that never cost you a cent. My intention is to retire in New York within two years, or as soon as possible.

I was looking at the edge of the lake, hoping to see the woman pass by again, while the man was still trying to convince me to take part in a business that didn’t attract me at all. He continued to insist that the business was profitable, that it had an ample client list, and that, as in all businesses, if you do a good job, all you have to do is milk the cow.

What’s more, young man, my clients have a lot of money and they invest it in building construction, or they use it to buy houses and refurbish them to rent out. And I’d be right by your side while you’re acquiring the knowledge you need and earning the confidence of the clients. You’ll be an expert in no time

The man wouldn’t stop talking.

What’s important is to introduce yourself to the clients, so that they get to know you, and that they can see results. Gain their trust and you’re in charge.

Let me think about it, I said.

What’s there to think about?

As if to answer his own question, he began mentioning things to think about.

It’s not just about managing the properties, he said. "A lot of the time it would mean advising the clients, to know how much rent to charge, how to improve the building to increase its profitability, give it proper maintenance, collect the rent on time. Etcetera. It means helping them to invest in the various facets of the real estate market, in their new projects.

Because of the volume of properties I manage, I’ve developed an excellent team of collaborators. The collector, the accountant that prepares the returns and the various taxes that needs to be paid, the maintenance personnel. They make for a responsible and trustworthy team. And you have no idea how hard it is in this country to put together a team that’s responsible and trustworthy.

Mr. Girau kept on talking like that for what seemed like hours, going on about great opportunities that I couldn’t care less about. And the whole time my thoughts stayed on that woman. I didn’t remove my view from the lake’s edge, never giving up hope that she’d pass by again.

Them maybe because of the distraction the woman supplied, or more likely the typical haughtiness of a young professional who was convinced that he could blow out the furnaces of hell with his farts, I made the mistake of letting my lack of enthusiasm show.

Here was Sr. Girau, taking the gamble of delivering his life work into my hands, putting a cash cow in my corral, the lifetime solution to all my economic problems, with a portfolio of customers who could be potential investors in my future construction projects. And all I could think about was that young woman.

He was finally annoyed, and it showed. He called for the check.

No, I said. I’m paying.

Don’t bother, young man. I can tell you’re not interested.

Not hiding his anger, Sr. Girau went on.

You young people think life goes on forever and that everything will fall into your lap. You have no conception that time is short and that it’s running out with each passing day. You have no idea how hard it is to earn people’s trust and generate a good client list.

He paid and took a business card out of his wallet. He put it on the table in front of me. Here’s my contact information, he told me. If you’re interested, come by my office and see me.

I accompanied him to the exit, where he asked for his car. I said good-bye, thanking him for the coffee and his time.

Don’t you have a car? he asked.

Yes, but I’d like to walk around the lake for a little while.

You haven’t given up hope.

No. Maybe with a little luck I’ll find her around here somewhere.

Well, good-bye. Have a nice day.

I went over to the path that circled the lake, hoping to run into her. Hours passed. I never saw her. I got my car out of the parking lot and headed for home.

As I drove, I still couldn’t get her off my mind. That night, I didn’t get much sleep. I had to see that woman again.

I made the decision to go to the lake and walk until I saw her. I went every day, walking through the woods. Sometimes I’d take my bike, so I could look for her at a faster pace, although cycling or any other kind of athletic activity was never a preferred pastime of mine.

Days passed, and my spirits faded. But then, surprise of surprises, I saw her. It was a Saturday. She was at a fruit and juice stand at the edge of the woods alongside a parking lot. It was the kind place that exercisers go to, almost obligatorily, after their workout to quench the thirst brought on by their physical exertion. She was enjoying a juice.

My heart pounded. There she was! I couldn’t believe it. But with no hesitation whatsoever, I pedaled up to the stand, got off my bike and leaned it against a tree.

Then I did hesitate. What if I approached her and was rejected? Panic took control of me. I pressed my thumbnail against my index finger and told myself not to be a coward. At least give it a shot.

But what would I say?

Suddenly I found myself next to her, and the only thing I could think of saying to her was, I have never seen a woman as beautiful as you are, so elegant and so sweet who can run with such refinement.

She smiled and answered, Maybe you’re dreaming.

No, I told her. A few days ago I was at that cafeteria that’s over there on the left and I saw you go by. And ever since then there was no way I could sleep until I found a way to see you again.

You probably say that to all the girls.

Not at all. The truth is it was hard for me to come over here and tell you. I’m very shy and trust me, it’s caused me a lot of trouble.

Sure.

No, really. Don’t get me wrong. Don’t prejudge me. I would love to get to know you.

For a moment I was worried about how she’d respond. It’s one of those things you can sense.

I have to catch up with my father. I take him here to the park so he can get some exercise, and he’s way over on the other side, down by the other parking lot. I got to go. It was a pleasure to meet you.

I’ll go with you. But don’t make me run. I don’t think I could keep up with you.

Okay. We’ll walk.

Ecstatic, I picked up my bicycle.

I thought you were walking.

No, today I brought my bike.

As we started to walk, she said, My name is Ofelia.

What a beautiful name! I’m Aurelio. Ofelia. Beautiful and not very common. And it suits your personality.

How? You don’t even know me.

That’s true. But I get the impression that you’re an intelligent person. Straightforward. And very pretty.

Right. Pretty. Especially in these rags.

What rags? I mean it, you’re a beautiful person.

And what do you do?

I’m in construction. Houses. Building. Whatever. And you?

I study medicine.

Medicine?

You have a problem with that?

Yes I do. I’m terrified of blood. I don’t think I could give a shot even to a dog, much less cut him open with a scalpel.

You can get used to anything. It’s just a question of practice. When I started med school my mother would tell me, ‘Ofelia, I don’t get it. How can you work with a cadaver?’ I’d tell her, ‘and I don’t understand how you can clean a turkey carcass to make mole.’

As we walked along the path, I kept admiring her legs, her sleek thighs, hard but beautiful. During one of my inspections she turned suddenly to look at me, and the look on her face made me feel like a lech.

I asked her, What field of medicine are you interested in?

Psychiatry. I’ve been attached to medicine since I was little. I think I inherited it from my grandfather. On one of the trips we’d take to Europe to visit my mother’s family, we went to Austria, and I asked my parents if we could visit Sigmund Freud’s study in Vienna.

Ofelia, what is it about studying psychiatry that attracted you?

A sudden shout interrupted our chat.

Papa! Papa She went up to her father and kissed him on the cheek.

Good morning, I said. A pleasure to meet you.

Good to meet you, he said, and in a friendly voice he introduced himself as Ofelia’s father.

Yes, I said. You daughter was just telling me.

How are you feeling? Ofelia asked her father.

Good, very good, he said. "Sweetheart, it’s late and I promised to take your mother to Valle de Bravo.

OK, papa.

It was a pleasure to meet you, I said to Ofelia. I hope I see you again around here.

Any day you want, Ofelia answered me.

Sir, a pleasure. My name is Aurelio, and you have a most charming daughter.

Ofelia’s dad just smiled. It wasn’t until later that I found out his name was Werner.

How about if we meet tomorrow at ten at the juice stand? Ofelia said to me. My parents are going to spend the rest of the weekend in Valle de Bravo and I have a lot of studying to do.

Perfect. Tomorrow at ten. Then to both I said, Have a wonderful day.

A pleasure to meet you, Ofelia’s father said.

Ofelia touched me gently on the shoulder and said, For sure, then, I’ll see you tomorrow.

Of course! I said.

They turned away, and I watched them leave. What an amazing girl, I thought. Truly beautiful, and so sweet.

That’s how I met Ofelia. I felt fulfilled that day, full of hope for the future and eager to see her again. There were 22 hours to go before we would see each other, and at least once in every one of those hours I would check my watch. Time seemed eternal.

I went home to eat, put the bicycle away, took a shower and then went into the library to see my mother, who loved to read.

The library in my parents’ house had large windows that looked out into the garden. My mother always sat in the same chair to read.

Good afternoon, my mother said. How are you doing?

Fine.

You seem happy.

I am, mom. I just met the woman of my dreams.

Who is she?

Her name is Ofelia.

Yes, but who is she?

She’s studying medicine, and I just met her in Chapultepec Park, by the lake.

"And just like that she’s the woman of your dreams? When are you going to stop being such a dreamer?

Mama!

When it seemed like the wait would never end, the time came. I showed up for the date 15 minutes early at the fruit juice stand next to the parking lot. I was so excited that I couldn’t help but look closely at every car that came into the lot, in case it was her.

She appeared punctually, looking wonderful. I went right up to her and said, You look beautiful!

And your bike? was her response.

I didn’t bring it. How about if you run and I walk. And then I treat you to breakfast.

Sounds good. But after I run I’ll have to go and take a shower.

Of course.

Okay. I’ll see you here in half an hour.

She started her run, and I walked behind, watching her as long as I could.

A truly beautiful woman. Tall, about five-seven, blonde hair, light skin, slightly tanned, probably from all the outdoor exercise. Gorgeous legs and thighs, delicate breasts, medium-sized, oval face subtly elongated, with big clear gray-green eyes, a straight, small nose, a lovely mouth and sensuous lips.

Every time that she would pass near me as she ran, I kept looking at those thighs, large but firm. Every time around her muscles seemed to be on display, beautifully shaped.

It was a clear day, and the sun would bring out both bright and dark shades as it played on her hair.

Many years have gone buy since that day but I still remember every detail as though it were happening today. My deep love for her, no doubt, refuses to allow all this to be erased from my memory.

When the half hour was up, she came alongside where I was walking and, still breathing hard, said to me:

"Hi! How’d your walk go?

The first few minutes are hard, I joked. Then you start to enjoy it.

It’s the endorphins. Want a juice?

Sure! Let’s go.

Vitamin C is key. Not only does it boost your immune defenses, it helps eliminate fatigue, too.

The fruit stand was crowded as usual, and I could tell that more than a few of them were noticing Ofelia’s body, subtly shifting their look in her direction to examine the details.

We ordered, I paid, the juice came and I asked her:

Where would you like to have breakfast, Ofelia?

Someplace close. I really have a lot of studying to do. There’s a test on Monday. But first I want to go home and take a shower and change. Where do you live?

At the end of Virreyes, near the entrance to Lomas Altas.

We live near each other. I’m at the second traffic circle on Virreyes. On the right. It’s a colonial style house, two-tiered roof, with shingles. The house is dark yellow, with chimneys.

I think I know it. It’s got wood doors, right?

Yes. Why don’t we meet there at my house in one hour? Twelve o’clock, all right?

Great! I’ll see you there.

"Trembling with excitement, I arrived precisely at noon and rang the bell. A woman answered the door and invited me to come into the living room while the young lady got ready.

Would you like coffee or a lemonade?, she asked.

No, thank you. I’ll just wait here.

The house had floors of wood. They were covered with paintings by contemporary Mexican artists. Wide couches and plush chairs surrounded a fireplace. A bookshelf was filled with books on art, architecture and painting.

A portrait in oil of Ofelia stood out among the paintings, showing her maybe two or three years younger.

When Ofelia entered the room, I said again, You look beautiful!

This time she smiled and asked, Where shall we go?

She suggested a restaurant across the street from the supermarket. It was close enough to walk. I agreed immediately.

We left her house and began walking. I asked her how old she was in the portrait on the wall in the living room. Twenty, she said, adding that it was painted three years ago. It only took us a few minutes to get to the restaurant. It was a small place, quite pleasant, always with customers.

As we ordered, we exchanged the usual questions that two young people who just met ask each other — our tastes, our families, our habits, our traditions, and a thousand other things.

This, our first real date, lasted more than two hours. For me it went by in what seemed like a few minutes. I was truly impressed. Ofelia was more than just beautiful, uncomplicated and sweet. She was intelligent. And she was a truly good person, full of love for mankind.

When I was on my fifth or sixth cup of coffee, Ofelia checked her watch and exclaimed, Wow, it’s really late. I have to study and I got that test on Monday. Let’s go.

I ordered the check and asked her when I could see her again. She answered:

I’ve got school all week, and Friday I have plans.

And Saturday? I asked her.

I’ll probably be going with my parents to Valle de Bravo, now that work on the house there is almost finished. But call me, and I’ll let you know. We’ll work something out.

I asked for a pen and a piece of paper to write down her number. After I paid the check, we walked back to her house, rang the bell and waited for the woman to answer the door. As we said good-bye, I told her that she was a wonderful person and that I couldn’t wait to see her again.

Call me during the week, was her response. But I really do have to study and I doubt I’ll be able to go out.

I finished saying good-bye. She went into the house and closed the door. I turned around and left.

The days went by uneventfully, the longest days of my life. I thought of nothing but her.

I made the decision to call her on Wednesday. We talked for an hour. I knew I was in love with her.

I filled my notepad at the office with her name.

Something’s got you acting strange, my friends would tell me, probably noticing I was drooling like a puppy.

My second encounter with Ofelia finally came when I invited her to the movies. As I dropped her off at her house, I gave her a light kiss good-bye on the cheek. It was the first time my lips had touched her skin.

She said, Good night. We’ll talk soon.

I had hoped that she would give my kiss on the cheek as well. But no.

Still, despite her undemonstrative farewell, I was happy. I can imagine the smile that had taken over my face, a smile of pleasure and satisfaction. There was no doubt about it, I was crazy about her. And her elegant composure only confirmed to me that she was accepting of my obvious feelings.

Unlike other relationships that I’d had, which had advanced quickly, this one with Ofelia was more deliberate. At the same time, the emotions were deeper, the desire more noble.

I was, to repeat, crazy in love. All I could think about was her. I still had a hard time sleeping at night, just from thinking of her.

The weeks went by, and we saw each other more and more frequently. We’d go out to a movie, to have coffee, to parties, to dine with friends. As time passed, my feelings for her grew more and more intense.

One night as I walked her to her door after we’d gone out to the movies, I couldn’t hold back any longer. Before she could put the key in the lock to open the door, I pulled her close and told her, Ofelia, I love you. You don’t know how much I love you, how much I admire you.

I put my lips to hers and kissed her lightly. I could feel her lips on mine. I held her tight and told her again that I loved her.

Then she put her face close to mine, and with a short and exquisitely subtle kiss, said, I love you too.

We hugged tightly. Finally, she kissed me on the cheek and exclaimed, It’s late. And I’m cold. I’ll see you tomorrow. In the afternoon.

I hugged her one more time and told her again, I love you very much.

Me too, she said. Take care and I’ll see you tomorrow.

She opened the door and went inside.

What days those were! I had absolutely no doubt they were the best days of my life. My hope for the future continued to grow and the dreams that went with them accompanied me in every moment of each day.

I felt pity for anybody who never had the opportunity to be in love like I was. Those poor people, I kept repeating to myself.

Sometimes in the afternoon, leaving my office, I would come by her house, and just sit their by her side while she studied, watching her as she did her university work. Occasionally I’d leaf through one of he textbooks and I thought about how difficult it would be for me to study all those complicated topics in medicine.

Months went by and every day I was deeper in love. Nobody in the world could possibly exist who I could love more. My love for her couldn’t fit in the universe.

So beautiful, so sweet, so brilliant, so understanding. And I had never known any human being with Ofelia’s moral values.

Ofelia’s mother, Lucrezia, was a charming woman. Ofelia had inherited her beauty, but not the intense blue of her eyes.

I will never forget that afternoon. I remember it so clearly that to forget it would be impossible. It was a Friday, and the sky was threatening rain from the moment I awoke.

I was in my office, going over some financial projections for a project. The results of the analysis were looking good under all the scenarios — optimistic, medium, and pessimistic — but I still couldn’t pin down an appropriate risk rate.

My mind was immersed in those scenarios when somebody knocked on my door. It was Claudia, my assistant, who reminded me that she had a dentist’s appointment and had to leave. I asked her what time it was and she said 5:15. Good thing you came in, I told her, it’s late for me too.

During the rainy season, you never know how much traffic there will be in the streets. Claudia and I both went running out of the office. I’d promised to be at Ofelia’s house at six. Getting there from my office would usually only take a half hour, but when it’s raining the traffic can get heavy and slow.

In fact, when there’s traffic the time it can take to get somewhere can turn into a serious problem. But I was lucky, I actually got there ten minutes early. I parked, crossed the sidewalk to the door, and rang the bell.

They of course were used to me by now, and greeted me with a good afternoon through the intercom. Please come in, señor Aurelio, the señorita is expecting you.

It was cold as well as rainy. I went into the living room and Ofelia came in a few seconds later with her usual adorable smile. She never stopped smiling.

Hi, how are you? she said. It’s cold. Why don’t you light the fireplace?

She quickly headed toward the kitchen, without coming up to me first.

I’ll be glad to, I answered.

If you need firewood, there’s some in the garage, she called back to me. I’m going to get a bottle of wine, okay?

Sure.

Okay. I’ll be right back.

Before she disappeared toward the kitchen I asked about her parents. They’d gone to Valle de Bravo again, she answered, to spend the weekend with some friends.

Ofelia’s dad loved fishing and rowing on the lake in Valle de Bravo. The place was beautiful, and he liked the cold weather. And it wasn’t that far from Mexico City.

I arranged the wood in the fireplace. Ofelia came back with the wine and two glasses, uncorked the bottle, poured some into a glass and offered it to me.

I thanked her and put the glass down on a table behind me, as I tended to light the fire.

"I’ll put on