Chapter 6 #3
Vero turned on her heels to face her mother, her heart in her throat. But her mother wasn’t looking at her. She was frowning at the pans on the stove. She held up a box of instant mashed potatoes. Vero pointed at her cousin. “Ramón did the grocery shopping.”
Norma nodded, as if it all suddenly made sense. She sighed. “This is why he’s still single.”
“What’s wrong with the groceries?” Ramón asked defensively.
“I tried to tell him,” Vero said, throwing up her hands.
“I know, I know,” her mother lamented. “He’s handsome and he has his own business.
At least that’s something. Where’s the flour?
” she asked, ignoring Ramón when he furiously insisted that his choice of mashed potato flakes had nothing to do with the state of his love life.
Vero reached into the cabinet for the corn flour, oil, and an assortment of seasonings.
Ramón dodged out of her way as Vero set the vegetables in a pan to sauté and Norma mixed a bowl of flour and water into masa.
He looked lost as they moved about the kitchen in wordless syncopation around him.
“Can we go back to the mold?” he asked.
“Can we go back to your love life?” Vero had twenty-five years of dirt on him and she wasn’t afraid to sling it.
He flipped her off behind her mother’s back.
“I’ve read about that black mold,” her mother said, using a soup can from Ramón’s pantry to roll out the masa. “It’s very dangerous. It’s a good thing they closed the building.”
“Did they close your sorority house, too?”
She whirled on her cousin. “’Scuse me?”
He smirked. “What’s with all those bags in the back seat of your car?”
“Nothing. I went shopping.”
“Want me and your mom to help you carry them in?”
“Totally not necessary,” she said through her teeth, “since I’ll be taking them with me in a few days when I go back to school. ”
“You could always move back home and do those remote classes I keep hearing about,” her mother suggested. She cut the masa into circles, too engrossed in her task to notice them glaring at each other across the kitchen. “How are your grades, mija ?”
Vero winced.
“Yeah, Veronica. Let’s talk about your grades.” Her cousin’s eye lit with a dare, and she was ready to put a fist in it.
“My grades are great,” she said, dumping potato flakes into a bowl of water and whipping them to stiff peaks. His eyes trailed her as she layered the meat, potatoes, and vegetables into the crusts. Her mother folded them into empanadas and set them in a hot frying pan.
A mouthwatering smell wafted through the kitchen as Vero wiped down the counters and started washing the pans. She tossed a dishrag at her cousin. “You know what they say about idle hands and a busy mouth.”
Ramón pushed himself off the counter to help her dry the dishes.
“So, Mom,” Vero said, happily changing the subject, “did you have any luck with that dating app I put on your phone?”
“No.”
“Did you even try it?”
“Quit nagging her,” Ramón said. “Norma doesn’t need a boyfriend.”
“No one needs a boyfriend, but maybe she’d like a little company.”
“She has Gloria.”
“So you’re suddenly the expert on what women need? Have you even been laid since high school?”
“Vero!” her mother gasped, nearly dropping her spatula.
“I’m just saying!”
Ramón slung his dishrag over his shoulder. A smug grin teased the corners of his mouth as he turned around to face her. He leaned against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest. Oh shit! Now it was on. “At least I’m not bringing random playdates to my garage.”
It was Vero’s turn to gasp. She was going to murder Javi, too.
She dried her hands and crossed her arms, mirroring his posture.
“You know who I bumped into last week? Tracy Lippett.” Her cousin paled.
“You remember her, right, Ramón? Refresh my memory… how did you two know each other again? Was it that late-night backyard party you went to? Or was it the trip to the Ocean City boardwalk?”
He might have stopped breathing.
I can do this all night, she mouthed.
A bead of sweat formed on her cousin’s lip. He cleared his throat as he set down his dishrag. “It smells like dinner’s almost ready. Why don’t we wait on the rest of the dishes and eat? Anyone else want a beer?”
“No,” Norma said. “I’m driving home after dinner. And you shouldn’t have one either. They’re not good for you.”
“I’ll have one,” Vero said sweetly, still gloating over her victory.
He leaned close to Vero’s ear on his way to the fridge. “One more week,” he told her. “You have one more week before I haul you back to school myself.”
She nodded, her smile dimming. She had one more week to find the thief and get herself that teller job.
Then she could tell her family she’d left school to pursue a banking career.
That getting her degree had never been as important to her as she had made it seem.
One more week to find a reason to stay in Virginia, so she’d never have to tell her family the truth.
That she had been framed for a terrible crime.
That none of her friends believed her when she said she didn’t do it.
And why should they? Vero thought. Apparently, she was a pretty good liar after all.