There was a unique quiet after the storm, even with the birds singing happily of their survival. Everything was drying out in the wane sunlight. Branches and coconuts, palm fronds and broken tiles littered the courtyard and lawns around the hacienda house. She was finishing her breakfast and looking again into her grandfather’s logbooks when Lola Gloria came to speak to her. “Miss Julia. There is a dispute between two women. They ask you to help them, to mediate the problem, and to give decision to stop their disagreement.” “Me? Why me?” “You are the doña of the house. This is usually my role, or that of the head of the family. But with you here, they wish for you to mediate.” Julia closed her grandfather’s book with a thud. She’d been reading about energy options like hydroelectricity by water pressure, solar panels, and a modernized windmill. “But I’m no mediator.” Julia wanted to laugh, except that Lola Gloria appeared to be completely serious. “They had an argument over a pig.
