Chapter Four
“Everything is going to be fine. Right?”
I’m clutching the steering wheel so hard my knuckles have turned white.
I keep my eyes fixed on the open highway ahead, preparing for the exit that’s quickly approaching.
The wedding week has officially started, and I spent two hours this morning extensively training Faye on all of the procedures, from opening the restaurant to closing it.
They probably didn’t need all the training, but I just want to ensure everything runs perfectly while I’m gone.
This is all happening so quickly. The buzzing in my head is almost distracting.
“It’s going to be fiiine.” Maria sips her caramel iced latte in utter bliss. “You don’t think Faye can handle it?”
“No, I’m sure they’ll be fine. They basically know how to do everything.”
“Then it sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself. I don’t know why you don’t let them run more of the store so you can have free time to, I don’t know, date someone and get a life. But, hey, look at that tree! It’s changing colors.”
Maria points quickly at a maple tree whose leaves have a tint of orange on one section. It went by so fast that I almost missed it, which is how I feel most of the season when I’m stuck inside the restaurant.
“I’m just terrified they’re going to open the wrong report and accidentally find out that I’ve been lying to everyone about the restaurant doing well,” I finally say.
“Look, I get it—you’ve been trying to keep things together. But even if they do see the truth, you’re doing the best you can. No one can blame you for that.”
I shake my head. “They’ll think I’ve failed. What if they realize how bad things really are?”
“You’ve got José there to help out for the whole week, and he’s loyal. He won’t let anything slip. I really don’t predict anything going wrong.”
“Famous last words,” I groan.
I look at the road signs as they pass by.
Lee is about thirty minutes away, and that’s our final destination.
I try to focus on the gorgeous landscape of evergreen trees mixed in with birch and maple, creating a beautiful tunnel through the highway.
The trees on either side are mostly green, but here and there, I can see flashes of red, gold, and orange as the leaves turn for the fall foliage.
Sweeping rock walls tower over the right side of the car.
Large, lush mountains loom over us. I roll down my window and feel the cool breeze wash over me, carrying with it the sweet scent of autumn.
My peace is disrupted by the obnoxious reggaeton music Maria has insisted we listen to. Despite the noise and peaceful drive, I can only think about the restaurant accidentally being set ablaze by someone. It’s twelve o’ clock now, which means they’ll be in the middle of a lunch rush shortly.
“I should call. You know, check in,” I conclude.
“Uh, no, you definitely should not.” Maria looks over at me mid-sip.
“I’m calling.”
“Isa, stop it, you psycho.” Maria snatches my phone from my hand. “I’ll call them if it makes you feel better. Damn. Just keep driving.”
The panic in my chest makes me want to sprint out of the car while it’s still in motion and run back home. Instead, I wait patiently for Maria to speak.
“Hey, Faye, how’s it going?”
I lower the music slightly.
“What? No way!” Maria exclaims.
“What?” I whisper yell at her, trying to keep my eyes on the road as I glance back and forth between her and the cars ahead.
“Oh shiiit, I can’t even believe that.”
“Maria, what?” I beg.
“That really happened? Shit. Okay. Yeah, I’ll tell Isa. All right, bye!”
Maria hangs up and takes a sip of her stupid coffee.
“Hello? What happened? Should I turn around?”
“Oh, everything is fine. Faye said the morning went really well, and they were all ready for lunch. I got you, didn’t I, pendeja? Relax! This is going to be such a fun week. We’ll party, eat good food, drink, and hey, maybe even find you a hot date.”
“First, you suck for that. Second, it’s a wedding full of family. Who the hell am I going to date?”
“Oh, right. Well, there’s always Valentina,” she says, winking.
“Over my dead body,” I mutter, though the words feel hollow.
“Why? Have you seen her recently? She’s hot and successful! I think she’s a chef or something.”
Maria pulls out my phone and searches for her on social media.
“See?”
“I’m driving,” I say, trying to glance at the phone. “She’s all right, I guess.” I try to sound indifferent, though the memory of her smile is more vivid than I want it to be. “But she’s also a life ruiner, so there’s that.”
Maria snorts and continues to scroll through her phone. I keep my eyes fixed on the road, willing myself not to ask to look at the photo of Valentina again, even though curiosity gnaws at me.
Suddenly, we hear a sputter in the engine of my car. A noise I’ve become accustomed to. Maria? Not so much.
“I seriously hate your car,” Maria whines.
“What? Why? What’s wrong with Miss Piggy?”
“What isn’t wrong with Miss Piggy?” She snorts.
Miss Piggy is the name I so endearingly have given to my old 2000 Volkswagen Beetle. It was a high school graduation gift from my father. He even took it to my cousin to paint it pink since that’s my favorite color.
“This will take you to college and back for years and years, mija,” he insisted, despite the car being over a decade old and already having over 170,000 miles on it at that time. That was six years ago. The poorly done paint job has been chipping off like my toenail polish—slowly and painfully.
“Don’t dis the pig,” I say. “She’s doing great!”
I pat her on the dashboard a few times.
“You’re joking, right? You had to jumpstart her before we even left the restaurant.”
I swerve to the right lane, finally getting ready to merge off the highway.
“Don’t you ever need a jumpstart in the morning after a deep sleep? She’s a badass. Look how far she’s gone with no issues.”
The dashboard looks like a light show, with nearly every symbol turned on, alerting me that something is wrong.
Most of them have been on for years. I survive off my measly restaurant salary.
I can’t afford to get her fixed, and I certainly can’t afford another car.
Plus, it’s Miss Piggy. She’s going to the grave with me.
“As long as we don’t crash and die, I guess we’ll be all right,” Maria whimpers.
“We won’t crash. Miss Piggy wouldn’t allow it,” I reply confidently.
Miss Piggy can’t let us die. I literally cannot afford to die.
Not only will we not make it to the wedding, but the restaurant will undoubtedly close.
Oh, and we’d be dead. We drive past a green highway sign that reads, “Entering Lee.” After another painstaking stretch of gravel, we finally make it to the exit and into town.
“We’re heeeere,” Maria says in a sing-songy voice. “Take it all in, Isa. It’s super cute, isn’t it?”
It really is cute. Driving into the Berkshires feels like you’re stepping into a different world.
One you’d only see on a show like Gilmore Girls, where everyone is super kind and they host random festivals in the town square.
I suddenly start to feel the excitement I have been bottling in since yesterday, when Maria told me about the opportunity.
I’ve been so worried about the restaurant and ensuring everything is perfect that I haven’t even thought about how I’m finally fulfilling my childhood dream of going to summer camp, albeit as a twenty-five-year-old adult woman.
Plus, I finally get to see my cousin again after ten years.
I lower the window and allow the cool breeze to touch my cheeks as we pass through a line of colonial houses.
Finally, we turn the corner and reach the main street.
I take in every single detail. There are lampposts every several feet marking the way down the road.
I can already picture them covered with green garlands during the holiday season and feel the urge to book a return trip just to see the Christmas lights everywhere.
To my right is a small park with a few gazebos to relax in.
Local shops are on each side of the road, nestled close together, leaving no room for error. People are walking on the sidewalks, shopping, eating, and enjoying the last few days of summer. We continue driving past.
“So,” Maria says, breaking the silence. “Are you going to tell me what was in that letter you had yesterday?”
Miss Piggy sputters briefly, jerking us forward slightly, but chugs along.
“Come on, girl. We’re so close,” I tell my car. “It’s a letter from my father,” I finally say to Maria, trying not to let Miss Piggy’s inevitable demise distract me. But, unfortunately, I recognize these signs all too well.
“Another puzzle? No fucking way. You have to show me!”
“Shit. Shit. Shit!” I shout as I bang on the steering wheel.
Miss Piggy begins to slow down just enough for me to get into the breakdown lane. We’re not too far from the campsite; I can’t believe she’d give up on me now.
“What’s going on?” Maria asks.
“Miss Piggy,” I say as I try the ignition with no success, “is fucking dying. Shit.”
“Well, we saw this coming, didn’t we?” Maria laughs. “Should we call Sofia?”
“Damn it!” I shout. “It’s bad enough I’m showing up in this shitty fucking car, but it breaks down before I can even get to the wedding? Great first impression, Isabella. Thanks, Miss Piggy.”
“Yeah, how were you going to justify this car anyway if you’re ‘so successful’ with all your ‘designer’ shit?” Maria says.
“I was going to say my real car was in the shop, and this was a loaner from a coworker. Duh.”
I grab my phone and hover my finger over Sofia’s name. I haven’t looked at this number in so long. In the past ten years, I’ve probably hovered over her name a total of five times. Curious if she’d reply—and wondering what I would even say. I hold my breath and send the text to Sofia.
After what feels like five minutes but is probably closer to one, she replies.
“All right, she says someone is coming to get us,” I say to Maria.
“Back to the letter, I think I left it in my apartment; I couldn’t find it in my bag this morning.
” My stomach twists as I say it, because I know I put it there. Did I leave it somewhere else?
“It was only a two-line letter, but it felt important—like a clue I was supposed to hold on to. It said that I will find the truth in his book and that I have the key.”
“Oh shit. We’ll have to figure this one out later. I fucking loved his puzzles.”
My dad didn’t just enjoy puzzles for fun.
He had a knack for hiding things inside them—important things.
When I was little, he used to make me solve a riddle or a puzzle before I got a gift or a special surprise, like it was some game between us.
But as I got older, I realized it was more than that.
He used puzzles to teach me how to think, to see beyond the surface.
He used to say that in life, the answers weren’t always obvious—you had to work for them, piece by piece.
And now, with his book and the clues he’s left behind, I can’t help but wonder if he’s hidden something important again. Something I’ll need to figure out to understand the bigger picture of what he’s been trying to tell me.
After a few moments, our silence is broken by the sound of a car horn. I jump up and look through the rearview. I can’t determine who it is, but it seems like a nice car. It must be Sofia.
Maria looks up from her phone. “This must be our knight in shining armor.” She laughs.
“Stop,” I groan. “It makes me feel like a poor peasant in distress being rescued by the rich princess who pities me and my stupid car.”
“You’re so dramatic.” Maria chuckles, unbuckling her seatbelt and opening the car door. “We should go. Are you ready?”
I give Miss Piggy one more pat before exiting her. She’ll be fine. She always is. Besides, I already called for a tow—they said they’ll pick her up later today. Hopefully, she’s back in action before all the wedding festivities start.
“I call shotgun,” I whisper to Maria as we walk toward the gorgeous silver Volvo SUV staring back at us. The headlights are on, which must be some fancy automatic thing Miss Piggy would scoff at. I still can’t see who it is.
My throat is dry, and my heart is pounding. I reach for the passenger-side door and pull the latch.
“Hi, thanks so much for picking us up. Miss Piggy—” I look up, my breath catching in my throat as my eyes meet the driver’s. The air between us seems to thicken, and for a split second, I feel my pulse quicken, betraying the annoyance I try to hold on to. “No fucking way.” Maria lets out a cackle.
“Long time no see,” she says, her grin as sharp as ever, but it isn’t just the smugness that catches me off guard. Something flickers beneath the surface—something I wish I could ignore as easily as the smirk.
Her car smells of vanilla. Her long dark brown hair drapes strategically down her chest in perfectly curled, thick tendrils. I would recognize that face anywhere, unfortunately.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” I say.
“Of all the people who could pick us up.” Maria laughs. “Who would have thought it would be—”
I exhale deeply, but it isn’t just frustration that settles in my chest.
“Valentina Garcia,” I say, my voice steadier than I feel, the name rolling off my tongue with far more weight than I intend.