Part Three: The Invitations
I had the invitations designed by a woman in Mexico City who did this kind of work for corporate events and certain private occasions that required a particular level of discretion. Thick ivory card stock. Gold lettering, raised. The kind of envelope that required a letter opener to open properly, which I knew Doña Teresa owned and used.
Inside, simply: Easter Sunday. 2:00 PM. Valle de Bravo. The address will be confirmed upon RSVP.
I sent thirty-four.
My assistant called me three days later to tell me that thirty-two had confirmed.
“All of them?” I said.
“There was some discussion about whether it was a prank,” she said. “Apparently Doña Teresa decided the family should attend in a group. The phrase used was ‘if she wants to embarrass herself, we’ll be there to watch.'”
I looked out the window at the lake, which was doing what it always did in late March — catching the afternoon light and turning it into something worth looking at.
“Good,” I said. “Make sure the table is set for thirty-four.”
“Thirty-four? Two declined.”
“Set it for thirty-four anyway. There should always be more room than necessary.”
