Page 125 of Every Step She Takes
I have no idea1:16 p.m.
THIRTY-ONEPORTO, PORTUGALSunday, September 7, 2025
Mal
“Are you watching porn at work?”
I slam my phone face down on my desk and look up to see Gloria standing in the open door of my office. “No,Mother, I am not watching porn. But you’re welcome to change the parental controls on my phone if you don’t trust me.”
“If it’s not porn, why are you grinning like that?” She sits down on the chair across from my desk. It’s one of Sadie’s chairs, with the wood painted deep sky blue, and the upholstery an old tapestry depicting wildflowers.
“I have so many questions. Do you grin while watching porn? And do you think porn is the only reason a person might be happy?”
Gloria primly crosses her legs at the ankle. “This is workplace sexual harassment.”
“It’s the weekend! And you’re the one who came in here talking about porn!”
Gloria tilts her head to one side and studies me for three seconds before she deduces the truth. “You were talking to her again, weren’t you?”
I shuffle around some papers on my desk. “We should really get down to business.”
Without another word, Gloria flips open her iPad and slides a manicured finger across the screen. A series of charts and tables come into view, and I immediately lose interest. “I had accounting send over a summary of our first two quarters, along with projections of the tax breaks from starting the foundation, in preparation for our meeting with the board on Tuesday. Maëlys, put down your damn phone and pay attention. You’re thirty-nine years old.”
I reluctantly put my phone back on the desk, face up this time. “I mean this with all due respect, but I do not care about your charts. That’s why you’re the CEO, and I’m very much not.”
She snaps the iPad closed and glares. “If the board approves the final plan for the foundation, then everything will be in place for you to leave Portugal.”
So, it turns out I do care a little. I’ve been (for lack of a better term) trapped in Portugal for three months, bouncing between my office here, at the vineyard outside of Porto, and the corporate offices in Lisbon. At first, I was here to deal with the excruciatingly tedious process of naming Gloria as the official CEO of Quinta Costa, and then I stayed for the equally tedious process of establishing a corporate foundationwithinQuinta Costa.
As it turns out, Gloria was telling the truth at the funeral. My father followed my so-called career as I jumped around between nonprofits and NGOs, and the company gave millions to the causes I cared about over the course of twenty years. With generous tax benefits, of course. Which got me thinking…
I don’t know shit-all about how to run a company, but I know some shit about how to run a nonprofit. Or how to work for one, at least.
The idea came together over a long weekend trip to La Rioja for the Batalla del Vino in June. Gloria and I had our own wine battle as we killed multiple bottles of red and hashed out a detailed business plan for starting a corporate-sponsoredfoundation that the company would fund and I would run. A foundation that would offer grants to existing nonprofit organizations locally and globally, especially those focused on uplifting women, children, queer people, and the trans community.
When we first presented our proposal, the board shot it down with excuses about overhead costs and bottom lines and fiduciary responsibilities to shareholders. We compromised: the board agreed that if I could provide the start-up capital to get the foundation off the ground and prove it was a sound investment, then the company would allocate ten percent of our overall earnings after the fourth quarter.
I suspect they thought I didn’t have the follow-through or funds to make it happen.
But selling the Lake Como house more than covered it. As for the follow-through, well… I’ve been learning how to exist in this boring middle part.
The meeting in Lisbon is the final hoop to jump through before I’ll be set up to run the foundation remotely from wherever I want in the world. I just have to figure out where that is.
The problem with figuring out what I want to do with my time and money is that it means listening to Gloria for thirty minutes while she goes over every chart, table, and graph her little heart desires. “Do you have any questions before the meeting?” she asks as she closes the iPad again.
“I think you covered it, Mommy Dearest.”
Gloria sweeps her hair out of her face with the back of her hand. Every movement, every gesture, every word out of her mouth speaks of money—the kind of money that demands a childhood of etiquette training and an exacting emphasis on appearances. I see my own childhood mirrored back to me when I look at Gloria. She’s who I would’ve been if I hadn’t rejected the Costa part of me, and when Gloria looks at me, I think she sees a hypothetical version of herself too.
“I have reservations at O Paparico tonight at eight,” Gloria says, still elegantly posed on Sadie’s chair. “Would you like to join me?”
The funny thing is, I really would. “I can’t tonight. Inez is in town before she leaves for a tour tomorrow morning, and I’m meeting up with her for tapas.”
Gloria’s smile is tight but polite, and I quickly add, “You’re welcome to join us, though.”
“You should enjoy your time with your friend.” She rises from her chair as she smooths out the creases in her black dress. “I’m sure she has much to say aboutthat.”
My phone buzzes with another WhatsApp message, and I try to hide the notification. But Gloria has already seen it, and she’s already giving me a knowing look before sashaying out of my office.
