It's already 7, quarter to 8, in the morning. The sun was already rising up in the blue sky, it was very fine and dandy day to be started with cool expressions of the faces in the city. But Ibarra Buenconsejo, on the other hand, pulled himself out from his comforters into a sitting position with a grim emotion on his face. It's not good to start with a scornful feeling but Ibarra was mixed with problematic but unproblematic personality.
Problematic, in the sense that he has many problems to be managed as soon as possible, but unproblematic because he was handling it as if he didn't have those.
Ibarra Buenconsejo was the son of the ruined Mr. Ruvin and grandson of Martin Buenconsejo. The whole family had started the business of wines for 50 years already. The well-known line of the Buenconsejos was: "work hard on something you really want." That line will always hit Ibarra hard to the bone. He have to work hard to have that winery.
On his first plan, he decided to have winery on his own hard work but his grandpa promised that he will pass the inheritance on the right time.
But there was a condition, of course.
He sighed; one of these days he will be at stable, he thought.
"No," he muttered on himself as he laid back on his soft white mattress. "I shouldn't be worry about it anyway, I know my grandfather will choose the right thing." And that right thing was passing the whole inheritance on Ibarra's hands. His grandfather owned a big winery, titled as the city's finest wines.
The surname Buenconsejo was known as the best winemakers. They have that called 'good blending' of taste that really catch everyone's heart.
Everybody loves it—especially, Don Anastacio, the owner of the biggest hacienda of the next town.
Don Anastacio and Ibarra's grandfather, Martin Buenconsejo, are best of friends on their teenage years until now.
The Garcia's Hacienda was the number one supplier of their winery; and once that hacienda will collapse, Martin didn't have any choice but to pass the inheritance to Ibarra.
Ibarra had figured out that Martin couldn't manage the winery well because he's too old to do that. That would be Ibarra's start of his fortune.
He will be the newest owner of the Buena Conse Wines. He knew in himself he could manage it good, he should learn every moves of his grandfather when Martin's on his age.
It's too easy for Ibarra to know it—but that will only happen once the winery was under his control.
It's already 8:10 a.m. Almost half of an hour was wasted, Ibarra thought. He should be gone from bed in 7:30 a.m.
But things didn't go well last night.
Ibarra and Martin had an argument that add up one problem on Ibarra. Because of that little fight with the old magnate, there's a chance that it would be impossible for him to have the winery.
Martin still insisted that he could maneuver it alone, but his three grandsons: Gustave, Santiago—including Ibarra, thought the opposite way. Martin is already 76 years old, old and partly crippled man with a strong and active mind. Whenever Ibarra would bug him, his words will always be, 'my feet were just disabled, but not my mind that controls everything!'
Ibarra sighed and stood up on his feet. He stretched his arms away and did some short exercises in the morning. Minutes passed, he decided to go down to have his breakfast. He only wished that it was something so good to turn his mood into a good one also.
He reached the kitchen with silence. The silence that everyone could be comfortable onto, but not Ibarra.
How could he be comfortable when at this quiet time, he could still hear his grandfather's words. 'Marry someone and give me great grandson, and by that, I'll give you the whole inheritance'.
That's his promise; but still, once Gustave and Santiago will have future offsprings, they will also have a share from the company. Yet that's not the problem, Ibarra could give a share—but knowing that he have to marry first before he could have the legacy, that's another thing.
Ibarra growled; those thoughts ruined his morning even more, that made him decide to eat cereals for the mean time.
"What's up with the Don's favorite grandson right now?"
Here he goes again, Ibarra pondered in his mind. He didn't turn his head to see who's the owner of that annoying voice, he already figured out who.
"Oh, cereal," he said to Ibarra as he took a chair and sat on it. "How come you're only eating cereal if you're the grandson of the richest winemaker here in the city—"
"Shut up," Ibarra snapped.
It was Santiago, his one and only cousin. He was 6 feet tall, taller than Ibarra, the gap between their heights was just one inch.
Both of them have the well built body and handsomeness; the only difference between them was the attitudes.
"Why the hell did you shut me out!" Santi muttered, with sarcastic drama. "You're so mean to me, Ibarra. How could you do this to me, how could you—"
Ibarra raised his spoon at his cousin with a death glare that made Santiago stop from babbling. "Will you just let me eat in peace? Stop bugging me, Santiago," Ibarra voiced out.
"Bugging. . ." Santi narrowed his eyes. "You still have the guts to say stop bugging when you can't even do that for our Don Martin? Come on, bud. You can't be that—"
"It's only for our own welfare," Ibarra countered. "May I repeat, for our own welfare."
"Welfare, my ass," Santi muttered in disgust. "Come on, just think of it. Grand Martin had told me several times to guard you up and state not to bug him anymore. Just this morning, he called me to remind about that again. This conversation had started many times already! You're not listening, Ibarra."
"This conversation starts to bore me," Ibarra answered and finished his bowl of cereals.
"Then stop bugging our grandfather already!" Santi snapped. "If you're so done with his nos, then I'm so done with your hardheadedness."
"Is that all you went here? To lecture me?" Ibarra said while washing the bowl with water. He has his back on his cousin but he could feel Santi's sharp stare. "If that so, just leave. You can't change my mind here. I'll do whatever I should do to have the inheritance as soon as possible. I knew—" he said and turned around to face Santi. "No, we knew, that Don Martin can't handle the whole winery anymore, he's too old! I'm the only hope to do that."
"Gustave and I didn't have the skills of that business though," Santi declared. "Yeah, perhaps you're the only hope. But as you had mentioned, you will do whatever you should do to have that winery, so marry already!"
Ibarra glanced at his cousin who was still on his chair. He clenched his jaw and shook his head on Santiago. "No."
Santiago growled and flew his hands away as if he was really jaded—not just with their grandfather, Martin,—but with Ibarra also. "Just—what the hell!"
"You can't change my mind, Santi," Ibarra repeated. "Neither you nor Grand Martin"
"But a woman?" Santi asked with a snap of his finger. He even pointed Ibarra as if he was accusing his cousin.
For a second, Ibarra thought about someone. He sucked his breath and threw his glance away from his cousin. He didn't want to remember her anymore. Not at this moment.
"But a woman?" Santi repeated his words, but this time, mocking him hard to his bones. Ibarra wanted to close his eyes tightly but stopped himself, knowing that he was facing the most annoying cousin in the world.
Ibarra stared at Santi for a while of silence then tilted his head slightly and shrugged his shoulders at the same time. "Not at any rate."
"Okay, sure. I gave up," Santi said and stood up. "But once Grandpa Martin will scream my name and say. . ." Santi started imitating Martin. "‘Tiago, Tiago! Will you just punch your cousin for a while to make him realize I could still manage the whole winery!’" Santiago just showed his straight face. "Maybe I should punch you right in the face, cous'."
"I can handle myself with Grandpa," Ibarra said with reassurance. He even nodded at Santiago as if he was still convincing his cousin. Santi just flew his hands away again and turned his back. That was the moment, Gustave went inside the kitchen.
"Oh, there you are," Stav said. "Come here, older brother."
Ibarra wrinkled his forehead at his brother. On his peripheral vision, he could see Santi who's already static on his feet. Ibarra just ignored his cousin. "What's that?" Ibarra asked and let Stav come towards him with a paper on his hand. No, it's not just a paper, Ibarra thought. It's a card.
"Invitation card from. . ." Gustave checked the label. "From Don Anastacio 'Tasyo' Garcia."
Ibarra raised his two brows at the card, at the same time, widened his eyes slightly. "Oh, Don Martin's best friend. Why are you giving this card to me?" he asked as he looked up at Gustave.
"Don Tasyo called me yesterday to go to his penthouse today for a while," Stav explained. "Then this morning at six, he gave me this card. He even said that I shouldn't pass the news about he invitation to our grandfather. I don't know why."
That was the moment, Santi muttered his own words. "Maybe because that's an opportunity for you, Ibarra."
Gustave made a face. "How could you say it's an opportunity when the Don Tasyo said this news should not reach by our grandpa? I don't get it. It could be a threat?" Gustave suggested.
"You're too dramatic," Santiago countered. "Our grandfather and Don Tasyo were friends since they're just youngsters. The bond was too strong. They're so loyal to each other and both of them couldn't betray either way."
He's got a point, Ibarra thought. But why, in the first place, Don Tasyo hid this kind of invitation from his old friend?
There should be a reason; and Ibarra must find it out why.
"Just don't tell Grand Martin about this one," Ibarra commanded. "Whatever Don Tasyo will declare with all secrecy, I will respect it but also, protect our business and Grand Martin. Just leave it to me."
Gustave and Santiago looked at each other as Ibarra turned around on his one heel and opened the invitation card. He started reading it silently.
"I am inviting you to our hacienda, Mr. Ibarra Buenconsejo. We have a lot of things to talk about but for the mean time, let me just propose a business venture involving business and family. Hope you'll come and see me tomorrow at 4-5 p.m. I'm all up for the meeting. See you."
Ibarra frowned. Business venture? Venture was a risk to be taken. Is this going to involve their winery? Venture in business also meant about the capitalism, so it involves money and investments. Ibarra didn't know what to think about the venture. Perhaps the Don will just let Ibarra join by putting some investments into his hacienda. Other than that, Ibarra don't have any idea.
He should be careful or else he will lose the winery forever. For the mean time, his faith and trust for Don Tasyo were still intact.
He knew, Anastacio won't be giving risk to have a financial breakdown.
