Part 9 (1/2)

I actually got that joke. Lehman was the brokerage firm that went under in the early days of the financial crisis. My father had lost a bundle with them, but fortunately his holdings were diversified. Pepe's remark made me wonder how the crash had impacted not only Padilla Financial as a firm, but Mari and Pepe personally. They sure didn't seem to be suffering, but then neither were any of the other investment survivors. It was just the poor schmucks like me whose meager wealth was tied up in tanking real estate.

Suddenly Pepe rose and clapped his hands. ”Enough about business. Let's enjoy this beautiful evening.”

He and Lucia led the men down a front staircase to the bow. Mari stayed put and so did I...especially since her hand was on my hip and I wouldn't have moved even for a c.o.c.kroach.

”It gets crowded up there. We can go later. Sorry about all that investment talk.”

”It's all right. I finally have an idea what you actually do for a living.”

”The evil money changer.”

”I have nothing against capitalism as long as it's fair.”

”Fair is good. Our aim is to be the first investment firm on the bandwagon when a new or restructured business takes off. That's when risks pay the highest dividends, before other investors come on board.”

”And why you hold certain investments back for just your premium clients.”

”Exactly.”

”So the people who already have the most money are the only ones who can make the most money.”

”Technically true, but they also a.s.sume the highest risk because they can most afford to lose. By the time we bring our more conservative investors into the mix, the rapid growth has slowed but at least it's steady. That's a win-win.”

Still, it's only a win for those with money to invest. What are the rest of us supposed to do while guys like Juan and Michael h.o.a.rd all the money?

I forced a smile, noting with no small bit of irony that I had no business grousing about the One Percent while I was personally enjoying the fruits of their investments. Since they were kind enough to ask me along on this extravagant dinner cruise, I decided not to entertain any more rude thoughts about how any of them got their money or what they did with it.

”I take it you travel a lot, Mari,” I said. As if she needed even more glamour in her life.

”Just a few times a year...mostly South America and the Caribbean.”

”I had a job offer from Global Hotels in Boston that would have taken me back and forth to Europe every couple of months. Instead I followed Emily Jenko to Miami and wound up traveling to exciting places like Liberty City and Little Haiti.”

She started to answer then snapped her mouth shut as she looked away.

”What?”

”Nothing.”

”Something. What were you going to say?”

”I'm in the business of giving financial advice to people, and I sometimes do that when I shouldn't. This may be one of those times.”

”I know, I know. You would advise me to walk away from my mortgage and go back to Boston.”

”Still yes to the first, but I have no advice for what you should do about Boston. I was just going to suggest that you quit dwelling on a choice you already made. Whether it was right or wrong is irrelevant because you can't change your decision to come here. What matters is what you do now.”

”I'm sure that's comforting for your investors after they've lost their entire nest egg.”

”Except that wouldn't happen because I'd never let any of my clients put their whole nest egg in one place. But a.s.suming they lost big...yes, it would still be my advice because I'm a financial planner. By definition, I plan for the future, not the past.”

I wondered if her clients found her as confident and charming as I did, or if I was just under her Lesbian Spell. She made me want to go out and rob banks so I could give her all the money. Then she'd seek me out at c.o.c.ktail parties the way she had Carlos Moya, and I'd get to see her light up with a smile when I made a little telephone with my pinky and thumb.

”You need to call someone?” Mari asked.

Apparently I'd actually done that instead of just imagining it.

”No, I was just thinking your phone must ring off the hook if that's the sort of advice you give your clients. We'd all be better off if we didn't dwell on our mistakes.”

”Absolutely.” She slid her fingers along my forearm until they linked with mine. ”I've been thinking about our conversation the other night, when I said I needed a better cla.s.s of friends. That business at the concert...I wanted to cut out as soon as the performance was over and you insisted we stay. I should have realized I was insulting the performers, and I respect you for getting in my face about it.”

I hadn't exactly gotten in her face.

Not that I had anything against her face.

”Anyway, that's a long way of saying I think you're pretty cla.s.sy.”

I could feel myself blus.h.i.+ng, and for once, it wasn't because I'd said or done something stupid. ”That's about the nicest thing anyone ever said about me, Mari.”

There we were, alone on the sun deck with a fiery pink and blue sky in the background. Kissing her seemed like a really good idea.

Then Eddie appeared to tell us dinner was ready.

Mari held my hand all the way to the table, finally letting go so we could cross ourselves as Pepe offered a solemn grace. Finally, I got a payoff for those childhood catechism cla.s.ses.

Dinner was a delicious mixed green salad with goat cheese and sweet guava vinaigrette, followed by roast pork tenderloin with seasoned rice. I had no idea where the food was coming from until Benito, a round man in a chef's jacket and toque, emerged from below to take a bow.

Juan, who had spent most of the evening talking finance with Pepe, directed his attention to me as Eddie cleared the dinner plates. ”So you're the director of a foundation, Daphne? Which one?”

I was reluctant to correct him because I learned from Gisela that t.i.tles are very important in Hispanic business culture, and Pepe had seemingly gone out of his way to present me as more credentialed than I was. Nor was I comfortable with letting Juan think I ran the place, so I borrowed Pepe's words. ”I'm one of the directors at the Miami Home Foundation. We use federal and community grants to renovate homes in blighted neighborhoods.”

Michael snorted with unmistakable contempt. ”Sounds like another one of those government giveaway programs. You let your house fall into ruin and we'll take other people's money and fix it for you.”

Lovely. Mari and her uncle were schmoozing business from a Tea Party a.s.shole. ”We've been around for over thirty years, so that's enabled us to doc.u.ment the positive impact of our work, not only for the families that benefit directly, but also for the surrounding neighborhoods. Good housing grows the tax base, fosters business development, establishes a foundation for growing wealth among those who have traditionally struggled economically, and of course, improves the health and safety of people in ways that save public resources down the road.” This is the case I make every time I approach a business or organization for volunteers. A simple act of generosity makes a huge difference to the big picture.

”I don't necessarily disagree with your results, but your underlying a.s.sumption is that we-and by that I mean taxpayers-should be renovating private homes. No matter how you slice it, that's a straight-up redistribution of wealth.”

I looked to Pepe in hopes he'd steer the conversation elsewhere but he abruptly left the table to speak with Eddie. What I knew for certain was I didn't want to get into a back-and-forth with Pepe's investment prospect on the politics of urban development, especially when there was a growing likelihood I'd eventually say something to insult him. Deliberately.

Mari waded into the discussion instead. ”I can't speak for the government, but Padilla Financial has been very glad to sponsor some of the Home Foundation's work.”

”Which you do by choice,” Michael said. ”I have nothing against anyone who wants to give their money away, but when the government hands out our money like that, it's socialism.”

The boat turned sharply and picked up speed, and Eddie finished clearing the table.

”Gentlemen, perhaps you'd like the bow for the trip home,” Pepe offered, his hand sweeping toward the narrow pa.s.sage on the deck.