The Montoya mansion rose from the earth as Cynthia and I approached it, like a growing plant.
I slowed my steps unconsciously as Cynthia and I approached the massive wrought-iron gates, hardly believing my eyes. On our way here, Cynthia and I had gone over some basic details. I ruminated over those details while I admired the stone pillars that framed the entrance, tall and immovable from a distance, crowned with carved lions whose expressions seemed permanently unimpressed. Beyond the gates, I caught glimpses of large ancestral trees.
The estate glowed with generationally built wealth. Not just that, but a very carefully and powerfully groomed legacy. The Montoya story will be a very interesting one to hear.
"Oh my goodness! I've never been this close to such a masterpiece," Cynthia gaped, adjusting the strap of her bag. "Me neither," I agreed with Cynthia. Cynthia had seen a lot of nice places before, but even she couldn't mask the awe creeping into her voice."The news didn't do it justice."
My heart raced at the sight before me, my mouth wide open. The air, even from across the tall barbed fence, smelled cleaner, healthier, felt quieter, and was so much different. It was like the land knew its owner. So incredible.
As we approached the gigantic gate, a young, beautiful lady about our age stepped out. She approached us with purpose, dressed in a fitted, beautiful navy blue A-line shirt dress with a white apron. Its short sleeves had a sharp, white pointed collar. The bodice was buttoned down the center, and the apron was a semi-circular white one tied at her waist. A matching navy blue beret with decorative buttons adorned her jet-black hair, which was in a bun.
Her neatly pressed uniform announced her as staff, and a high-ranking one according to Cynthia, but her posture gave her away. Her aura was not that of a woman who scrubbed floors or waited for instructions. As she approached us, the seriousness in her eyes softened as it landed on Cynthia.
"Buenos días," she greeted warmly, her accent thick and unmistakably Mexican and familiar.
"Buenos días, Mari," Cynthia replied with shared warmth, stepping forward to hug Mari. "It's been a while. It's so good to see you. How are you? How's work?"
"Work is very fine and very engaging. And yes, I'm fine. I can see you and your friend here are well," Mari answered with a genuine smile on her pretty face, her eyes momentarily settling on me. Her eyes flicked to me again, taking in my form and assessing me professionally.
"Mari, this is Alice, the friend I told you about. And Alice, this is Marisol Ortega, an old friend," Cynthia officially introduced us. Mari and I shook hands.
"Chica, walk with me for a while," Mari said to Cynthia immediately, and they both walked away from me and the huge gate.
As she took Cynthia aside, her voice dropping an octave lower into a whisper, I remained rooted to the spot. I admired what the gardeners had done with the plants outside of the estate.My eyes landed on the armed security men in the distance. Even though they were wearing sunglasses, I could tell I was being watched. I wasn't doing anything wrong, yet I felt otherwise. My hands shook with nervousness.
I turned my head away from them. After I had gone to see Cynthia a few days ago to apologize, I agreed out of guilt to take the job. Immediately after Cynthia ascertained that I was sure about my decision, she called Mari to make arrangements. She had initially turned down the job offer after my outburst, so it took a while to convince Mari to reconsider.
When I told Aunt Elena about my decision, she was amazed. She asked what had changed my mind. It wouldn't have been wise to tell her that I accepted on the spur of the moment, so I told her I was tired of running from my responsibilities. She just smiled at me and gave me a truckload of advice.
I exhaled and turned to the house, wondering what kind of people lived behind walls like these. What kind of life did they live daily inside a place so pristine that it felt untouched by the messiness of the outside world? My aunt had gone for her check-up some days ago, and the reports weren't looking good. Time wasn't on my side, and when I came right down to it, I realized I'm not ready to lose my aunty.
She's the only family I have left. Tears were forming in my eyes when I heard a soft laugh from Cynthia. I immediately dried my eyes before I turned to face them.
They both approached me; Cynthia smiled like a Cheshire cat. Marisol nodded once to Cynthia, firm and decisive, before turning her head to me.
"It's been agreed. Come, follow me," Marisol said. "Let's go in to meet the housekeeper."
I straightened instinctively.
As we walked through the gates, Cynthia and I greeted the security men with polite nods and quiet hellos. The men responded with grunts, acknowledgment without warmth. They were so professional, even with greetings.
The gates closed behind us with a heavy metallic finality, symbolic in many ways.
Once inside the estate, the view hit differently. So many colors were everywhere. I spotted a few people working at a distance. A cleared path indicating the driveway stretched ahead endlessly, curving through the manicured lawns and sculpted gardens. In the distance, the main house looked as grand as a fairy tale palace, sprawling and impossibly elegant. I barely had time to absorb it before Marisol led us toward a waiting car parked at the side.
"Do you really need a car?" I asked before I could stop myself.
Marisol smiled faintly. "This is a very large estate. You don't expect us to move on foot."
I mean, she's not wrong, I chuckled to myself, still amazed by its grand size. We climbed in, and the ride was silent but smooth. I pressed my face against the window, watching buildings pass, wondering what each building was meant for and if I might ever enter them. The mansion itself remained distant and elevated, like a crown untouched by the daily movement below.
We stopped in front of a long, well-kept building that looked lived-in yet orderly.
"This is where you'll start," Marisol announced.
As we stepped out, another woman approached us.
She was older, larger, and looked meaner than Mari had. Her uniform was a dominant, deep, authoritative navy blue. Vibrant cyan-blue trim contrasted sharply along the collar, sleeves, and pockets. Its unique asymmetrical wrap-front design is exquisite. Instead of a zipper along the upper clothing, it is secured by a vertical line of cyan buttons trailing down from the left side, giving it an almost clinical look. At the neckline sits the curved overlapping collar, creating a sophisticated 'v' shape.
"Marisol," she spoke with an authority that made Mari pause.
"Doña Esperanza," Marisol replied respectfully.
Doña Esperanza turned her attention to me and Cynthia, her gaze steady and penetrating.
"I am the housekeeper," she introduced. "Everything that moves in this house answers to orders, including you."
I swallowed and nodded. Then she handed me a neat paper with printings on it. After going through it, I realized it was a contract. It simply stated that punctuality, respect, and discretion were expected of me while I worked there. I read it again to avoid missing anything, and that's when I saw it: silence when required. How and when will I know my silence is required?
I signed the paper anyway. Then we were given a tour of the servants' quarters. In my room, Mari picked a rose-pink, folded, and ironed uniform. I smiled at how cute the uniform looked.
I looked up to find Doña Esperanza watching me closely. "So," she said at last, her voice e
ven and unreadable, without any warmth. "When do you want to start work?"