Chapter Two #2
“Have you considered…” Maria pauses momentarily, looking serious. Suddenly, I’m concerned. She looks around to make sure no one is listening. I inch closer to her. “…selling feet pics on the internet?”
“I’m going to slap you. Be serious.”
“I am being serious! People make a ton of money exploiting their little piggies. Maybe this is your calling. I always knew you’d be destined for greatness.”
“I fucking hate you. Just promise you won’t say anything to anyone.”
“You got it, Isa. Mum’s the word. Anyways, there is a reason I came in today besides showing off my beautiful face. I have chisme,” she says with a grin.
“You? Have gossip? What a surprise,” I retort. “You know, whenever you tell me your chisme, it makes me wonder why the hell I’d tell you my biggest secret.”
“That’s easy. Because you love me, and I’m amazing. It’s not that hard to understand. Plus, we have a pact, remember?”
She did a pinky promise, and that means something.
Or it did when we were eight and she peed the bed, and I had to promise not to tell our other cousins so she wouldn’t appear lame.
To this day, no one knows that she peed on the bed.
No, they think it was me. So I now have to live with that embarrassment every holiday when our families get together.
But we promised, and I would never break that.
I just have to hope she feels the same way. Still, it feels like a ticking bomb.
“This is good news, though. So you know our cousin Sofia?”
“Uh, maybe? We have, like, ninety cousins. I have no doubt I have a cousin named Sofia somewhere in New Jersey.”
“Wow, you’re really gonna play dumb? She’s Tía Rosita’s daughter. We used to play together when we were younger. You were obsessed with hanging out with her and her best friend. You had the joint quinceanera? Remember when Val—”
“Sh, sh,” I say, putting my hand to her mouth. “We don’t talk about that. What about her? Did she die?”
“Isa, no.” Maria gasps jokingly. “She’s getting married to some rich guy. Didn’t you get the invitation?”
“No idea what you’re talking about. Plus, I’m busy.” I groan and turn back to my phone to clear out my emails.
I did get the invitation. It sits on top of the stack of rent-increase notifications, overdue credit card bills, and student loan statements I’ve been avoiding.
“Okay, I know you did because she told me she sent them to us. Are you just going to ignore it?”
“What do you expect me to do? I have a restaurant to run, and you know my mother. Oh, is that a customer coming in?”
Maria turns around to see a tall man walking toward the door. Whenever we have a customer, I feel like we’re one step closer to getting out of the red for the month. Just as I genuinely believe he will step inside, he turns and heads down the strip to the dry cleaners.
“Whomp whomp,” Maria taunts. “Time to get the ‘closed for good’ sign ready.”
“Get out,” I say, turning around to refill the straw container and keep myself busy.
“Isabella, let me finish! This is important.”
I sigh loudly, turn around, and raise my eyebrows to signal her to continue with this boring tale of family members I don’t care about.
“Sofia is getting married to some guy who comes from a rich family. I mean, good for her, right? Go Sofia. Couldn’t be us, am I right?” She snorts.
“Maria!”
“Anyways, get this. Her husband is a restauranteur and investor.”
She pauses. I stare at her, waiting for her to continue, getting increasingly impatient. I can’t understand why she can’t ever get to the point in her stories.
“Annnd?” I say, exasperated at this point.
“Stupid, he’s an investor. You could go to her wedding, impress her fiancé with a snazzy business plan, maybe even cook him a few meals to try from El Libro Sagrado, and win an investment.”
“First, I can’t get into my father’s book.
It’s locked. Second of all, why the hell would I do that?
” I laugh, though the thought of my father and his letter sits heavily in the back of my mind, its mystery nagging at me even as I try to focus on Maria.
What was in that letter? And why did he leave it for me now?
“To save the restaurant, pendeja,” she whispers.
“Maria, how exactly do you think this will save the restaurant?” I whisper back, realizing Faye is in the kitchen prepping some bread for the lunch rush, the only time of day we see an influx of customers in the store.
I stack a few menus to put in front of the register. All the baked goods are ready to be sold to a good home. José has already given me his silent nod of approval. La Mariposa is ready for business.
“Okay, so I was talking to our Tía Maritza, and she heard from our cousin Felipe, who heard from Alessandro that Sofia’s fiancé mentioned to Sofia that he wants to invest in a Latin restaurant.
Apparently, his family owns a few different restaurants throughout New Jersey and New York, and he wanted to branch out independently.
This could be your chance to save La Mariposa.
I already spoke to Sofia about it, and she’s thrilled to have you come and to help you with the opportunity. ”
I pause, narrowing my eyes. “Wait. Why would Sofia even care about helping me? We haven’t really talked in years.”
Maria rolls her eyes, exasperated. “Come on, Isa. Just because you two lost touch doesn’t mean she’s completely forgotten about you.
You guys were close growing up, remember?
Every family party, every movie night. You were practically inseparable until—well, you know.
Don’t overthink it. You two used to be like sisters. Trust me, she wants to help.”
“So, what? I show him a business plan, cook some meals, and he invests in the restaurant. That’s it?”
“Basically.” Maria shrugs. “You just need to wow him with the dishes and speak highly of the restaurant. It’ll be so easy, and you come back a hero. De nada, prima.”
I feel a flutter of hope inside my gut. Is this my saving grace?
The exact opportunity I need to save the restaurant secretly, and no one is the wiser?
My mother would continue believing I never fuck anything up.
That we still live the life she thinks we do—the one in which the restaurant is still thriving and my father didn’t leave us too soon.
Maybe I could even buy her out and keep the restaurant under my own name.
The excitement builds up inside my chest.
“That doesn’t sound so bad. Just pop in the day of, borrow the kitchen for a minute, show him the plan, and then leave a hero.”
“Well, so?” Maria chuckles nervously.
“Oh, God… I’m scared to ask,” I groan.
“You know Sofia—she’s so extra! And she’s marrying rich, so what more can you expect from her, right?”
“Spit it out.”
“Okay.” She sighs. “It’s kind of a week-long thing at the summer camp she used to go to every year as a kid. Her only requirement is that you have to go for the six days. It’s a few hours away, in the Berkshires.”
She blurts everything out so quickly that I have to sit for a second to process everything.
I grew up with Sofia, and if there’s one thing I won’t ever forget, it is how unbelievably jealous I was that she got to go to summer camp every single year.
After watching the movie The Parent Trap an obscene number of times, I wanted nothing more than to go to camp and find my long-lost twin sister who lived in a fancy home in London, and we would get to switch places.
She would get to live in a cramped apartment in New Jersey, in $10 shoes, and I would get to live a life of luxury, owning real designer things.
I always thought about how impressed everyone would be that Isabella made it.
One summer, I desperately begged my mother to let me go with my cousin, but she couldn’t afford it.
I told her I could talk to Tía and see if she could pay for me since she had offered before, but she shut down that notion immediately.
It’s been a long time since I thought about summer camp, and the opportunity to finally go isn’t lost on me.
“So I’d be gone for a whole week?”
Maria nods slowly, anticipating my next move.
“My mother probably won’t be invited to the wedding, right?”
“Um, estas loca? Did you forget the drama between Rosita and Mariposa? It’s practically an urban legend at this point,” Maria recalls.
I didn’t forget. If our life were a telenovela, this would be the mystery we’d be trying to solve.
When we were fifteen, something happened between Tía Rosita and my mother at our joint quinceanera.
No one ever knew what it was, but whatever happened caused chaos when my mother forced both sides of the family to choose between her and Rosita.
I guess Maria found a way to stay in touch with Sofia since her mother wasn’t directly involved.
On the other hand, I wasn’t allowed to even think about them.
This fact alone will mean that convincing my mother to watch the restaurant while I’m gone will be damn near impossible.
“Yeah, no. I’m not doing that,” I decide.
“What? Isa, why not? This is a great opportunity.”
“I can’t just leave the restaurant for an entire week for something that isn’t definite.
Who is going to run the restaurant while I’m gone?
What am I supposed to tell my mom? ‘I’m going to the wedding of the family you hate’?
‘The one you envied my entire childhood because they made more money than we could ever’?
‘The one you had too much pride to contact when my father died’?
Not to mention that this place will fall apart without me.
I can’t. Thank you for thinking of me, but I just can’t. ”
The thought of leaving the restaurant in someone else’s hands makes my palms sweaty.
How would they know how to open it properly?
And I’m supposed to be gone for six days, hours away, at some random summer-camp-themed wedding for a cousin I haven’t seen in ten years?
It’s just not possible. Still, I feel like this could be precisely what I need, and I can’t shake the feeling that it would solve all my problems. But, no, I can’t.
“Oof, well then, you’re gonna love this next piece of chisme I have for you,” she chuckles.
“What more could you possibly have to say?” I moan.
“Well, I already told Sofia you’d do it, and it starts tomorrow.”