The Drawing Room

The drawing-room had once been his wife's. Carolina's, he claimed it after her death, so many years ago. During childbirth. Once it had been a place to gather, chat, laugh, enjoy.

At the moment he felt very much alone. The door opened, Martha entered carrying a tray with light lunch, soup, a sandwich, coffee. a piece of ginger cake. She set it on a table that was set between two chairs.

"Will there be anything else, Sir?"

"No, thank you, Martha."

She backed out closing the door behind her. Glancing up and down the empty hall, as if to see the boys running past. Slowly making her way back to the kitchen.

The house had become so quiet. It was now only herself and the Mr. From the end of the hall, she heard the click of the locks, he once more, locked himself in the drawing-room.

Once there had been, family, children, dinners, parties, birthdays, gatherings...she sat a the kitchen table letting her thoughts take her back;

Two little boys came running through the kitchen, one grabbed the apples one distracted her by untieing Martha's apron. Out the door, they scrambled laughing as they ran, positive Martha would run after them to retrieve the apples, they each took a bite. "She won't take them if they are half-eaten!" They both took a second bite, still on the run, already halfway to the tobacco drying sheds.

Little did they know Martha left that bowl of apples within reach, knowing, something pinched always tasted sweeter. Letting them believe they tricked her. She smiled, tied her apron, put the bread in the oven. Turned to prepare the dressing for the pheasants.

Justin was the older of the two, by seventeen minutes, they were otherwise the same. Blond curly hair, blue eyes, same height, weight, smile, teeth, laugh, no one could tell them apart. They wore name tags for years. They learned how to work that likeness to their advantage as they grew. Standing in for each other in class, on dates, on the hunt, workdays, holidays, days off. They would laugh so hard if they were able to pull off a prank.

They both ran, swam, played pool, rode horses. They did almost everything together, liked the same things

James was the first to ask his father if he could start working in the cigar rolling sheds, he wanted to learn the business, learn how to roll cigars, the packaging distribution. He had ideas for new products. He had been sweeping up the sheds at night, rolling tiny cigars from the leaves he found on the floors. Then he and Justin would go out behind the barn and smoke them. Talk about being in business together.

Work and ambition are where they differed, Justin was off to college, accounting--business, he wanted to be the business manager. He had no interest in labor or staff. Let James look after the workings of the business, he would look after the money. He went to UC Davis in California, only returning for summer break, holidays, and Christmas.

After graduation, Justin returned to the ever-growing CARO Plantation in the Yucatan of Mexico. Finding James deep in mass production, the business had quadrupled in five years. Every evening they would meet in the drawing-room with their father, tequila, cigars. Talk about their day, what needed to be changed, where to spend their money, making plans for the future, they would agree to disagree on a lot of things. But above all, they wanted to move forward, be the largest supplier of top-quality cigars in the world.

In that same drawing-room, the thoughts of CARO Tequila Distillery were conceived. One evening while drinking tequila, James looked at his glass and thought 'why not? He introduced the idea a few nights later.

"Yes Pappa," James said. "This will work, we have the property, we can hire the best distiller, our name is well known in the world. We could grow the agave alongside the tobacco, hire more staff, do one early harvest and one later. We have the money to build a beautiful building." They talked well into the night. They wrote everything down, started to make a plan.

It took five years to be up and running, producing a remarkable tequila, like their cigars. The CARO products were sought after, all over the world. Still, every evening they would meet in the drawing-room, have the meetings, discuss, drink, smoke. make new plans. They talked, laughed, the three got along well.

They started having invited gatherings to taste the new season's Tequila and the new products from the cigar barns. Hundreds of followers from around the world, sat on a waiting list to be invited. The parties were fun, glamorous, and profitable for CARO Industries.

Each morning at ten-thirty, Pappa would open the french doors off the drawing-room, leading to a patio. Large leather adobe chairs, small tables, pots of giant cacti sat like statues, all under the shade of a ten-foot-wide roof overhang. Martha would bring them coffee, he was always on time but, sometimes the boys would be late but, they came.

That particular morning in late September, the boys never came up to the house for coffee. He looked at his watch, at the same time, heard the sirens when they started. He knew instantly, was up and out of his chair, knocking it over, running for his small plantation vehicle. He saw the smoke. As he reached for the handle he heard the explosion.

Pappa never again went down to where the distillery had once been. He closed the plantation. Let it become overgrown and empty. The rats and wild cats had moved in, taken over.

Now so many years later, Martha brought him lunch. Every evening she took it back to the kitchen, brought his dinner. Sometimes he would eat, mostly he did not.

Now she stood looking out the kitchen door, leaning on the frame, a light breeze came through, she heard the gun go off.

the end