Chapter Six
“You’re in the woods now,” I quietly mock as we make our way down the path toward the cabins. “I wouldn’t even know how to get a personal driver. What’s with this place?”
“I don’t know, I thought he seemed nice,” Maria replies halfheartedly as she looks back through the gift bag. “Plus, look at these amazing gifts. This place is awesome!”
“Well, you think everyone is nice,” I mumble.
I can feel the sweet summer breeze race over my face.
It’s incredible how small the camp actually is.
In my head, I pictured an extensive area with an enormous lake and maybe fifty cabins, one of them preferably having long-lost twin sisters in it.
This place has around twenty cabins and resides on one of the smaller lakes in the county.
As we walk through the area, I look at every single cabin.
Some have their doors wide open to allow the breeze to flow inside.
Some have a few people sitting on the steps, talking.
A few guests wave at us, which feels friendly and welcoming.
I wave back enthusiastically. I’m here to impress, right?
As we pass a few cabins, I see the main hall to my left, and on the right, several white folding chairs piled up near a cluster of maple trees.
A couple of people, possibly vendors, are installing some string lights up in the trees.
I see Sofia standing under them, pointing and directing them to the perfect spot to put each light.
This must be where the ceremony is taking place.
It’s barely decorated, but it already looks magical.
A pile of birchwood logs is at the end of the path near the lake.
Those are probably for the arbor. It’s going to be perfect, I already know it.
Of course it is. Just as I am about to call out to Sofia to get her attention, I hear someone scream my name in a high-pitched shriek.
“Isabellita!”
An older woman with short, curly hair undoubtedly dyed a fake red heads in my direction. I can smell her overpowering perfume already. Her bold red lipstick and maroon maxi dress make me think she definitely has a favorite color.
“Who the hell is this?” I whisper to Maria, nudging her ribs.
“It’s Tía Maritza,” she says, laughing. “I know it’s been a while and at least six different facial surgeries since you last saw her. With the new nose, facelift, and Botox, I’m not surprised you don’t recog—Hola, Tía!”
Standing at nearly six feet tall, Maritza could have easily passed for a model.
Her cheekbones are high, making her face look gaunt but in a high-fashion way.
Despite the work, I can see her crow’s feet peeking through and the dark circles hidden under fillers.
I try not to be too surprised at how unrecognizable she is now.
“Tía Maritza! How are you?” I shriek back in the same fashion and lean in quickly for a hug. “You look amazing. What are your secrets?” I laugh with a fake smile. I would never, at any point in my life, be able to afford whatever her secrets are.
“Oh, please, Isa. As if you need any of my secrets. Look at you. You’re gorgeous! I love that dress. Who’s it from?”
This velvet midi-length dress with long sleeves and a scooped neckline comes from a very prestigious and fancy store called Target, actually.
But I can’t tell her that. Not when I’ve worked so hard to project the image of success.
If they think I’m struggling, the investment will slip through my fingers.
The panic rises in my chest, knowing I have mere seconds to answer before it looks too suspicious.
“It’s Calvin Klein,” Maria blurts out.
I shoot a thankful glance at her. I’ve got to keep up the act, no matter what.
“Oh, is it?” Maritza scans my body with her razor-sharp green eyes like a robot trying to discover a secret weapon somewhere on my body. I suddenly feel naked. “I’ve never seen it before. It must be new, then. I love it!”
“Yeah, it’s part of his fall collection,” Maria continues. “Where’s Silvana?” she adds to change the subject.
“She’s somewhere around here, probably tanning by the lake or drinking way too many free daiquiris. Oh my God, Isabellita. It has been so long. We didn’t think you were coming. It really is a surprise to see you here. ?Y tu mama como esta?”
“She’s not coming,” I say awkwardly. Is she playing dumb? She must know she’s not invited.
“Oh, que pena. That’s too bad. I haven’t seen her in so long too.
In fact, since your quinceanera. That was quite the night,” Maritza laughs as she rummages into her purse until she finds her lipstick.
It’s Ruby Woo from MAC. I watch as she reapplies it to her full lips that were definitely once pencil thin.
“Actually, I wanted to ask you, and well, everyone, about that night—”
“Aren’t you excited for Sofia? This wedding will be the event of the year, maybe even the decade.
Rosita has been working overtime with her to make sure it looks perfect.
But you know me. I’ll always find the flaws,” she says, winking.
“Que pena that she doesn’t have a father to walk her down the aisle. ”
“Yeah, that is a bummer. I know how that feels,” I say softly. “Anyways, about that night, I was wondering if you had any information—”
“Well, chicas. I see an open bar there calling my name, so have fun settling in. See you at dinner, mis ninas.”
We both watch as she saunters away toward one of the three full-service open bars.
“She did it,” Maria whispers.
“Did what?” I look over at her, confused.
“She’s the killer. In the parlor room, with a Ruby Woo lipstick canister.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I laugh. “It would be in the powder room. She knows something, though.”
“About the fight? You think so? Looks like we’ve got our first suspect, then.”
I roll my eyes. “She’s not a suspect, Mar. Just a person of interest.”
“Oh, she’s interesting all right.”
We head toward Sofia, passing the bar tables with white cloth and tulle, most likely for happy-hour mingling.
A few guests reside at one of the photo booths, which appears to be a rented old-school machine you sit inside to take photos.
Next to it is another photo booth. This one is made of a boxwood hedge backdrop decorated with real roses and greenery throughout.
In front of the backdrop is a red velvet couch, and there’s a bright neon sign hanging above it that says, “The Smiths.” That must be Luciano’s last name, and now I can’t stop picturing Sofia as Sofia Smith.
“Okay, we have to take photos there. It’ll go with your ‘I’m super lavish and successful’ facade you’re trying to put off,” Maria says.
“Can you not mention that so loudly?” I cringe, looking around me. I notice Sofia making direct eye contact with me, and my throat suddenly dries up.
“Isa! Maria!” Sofia waves, her smile beaming from ear to ear. She jumps up and down and screams excitedly.
We walk over to her, considering the piles of string lights surrounding her.
“Sorry about the mess. These were supposed to be put up yesterday, but you know how it is,” she groans. “I can’t believe you’re both here, especially you, Isa.”
“Here I am,” I say awkwardly. I haven’t seen Sofia in ten years. I have no idea how even to act. Like myself? Myself as a fifteen-year-old girl?
Sofia rushes in for a hug. Her embrace is warm against my skin, in contrast to the substantial chill slowly approaching in the air.
“This is going to be an amazing week, I just know it. Maria told me about your business plan, and I’m so excited for you. Expanding the restaurant, huh? We had no idea you were so successful.”
I look over at Maria, who just grins at me.
“Yeah, I was pretty surprised too.” I glare at Maria. “Who knew we’d be expanding? We’re just…doing so well. We thought it would be a great time to bring an investor in. You know, while we’re at the top of our game.”
I internally cringe. “Top of our game”? Seriously? But hey, they don’t need to know how “well” we’re actually doing. It’s all about the illusion, right?
I glance at Maria again, who’s still beaming like this was all part of some brilliant plan instead of a half-baked scheme we cooked up just yesterday.
God bless her optimism. Sure, we’re not there yet, but this isn’t a total lie.
It’s a real plan. I’m not selling them where we are; I’m selling them where we’ll be—once I figure out how to unlock those damn recipes and make everything work.
Kudos to me for keeping a straight face. Years of practice, I guess.
“Well, you’re absolutely right.” Sofia picks up a pile of the string lights by her feet and moves them aside, signaling to one of the employees to pick it up and start untangling it.
“Luciano would be a great investor. He’s amazing.
Maria told me you’d need the kitchen to whip up a couple of samples for him to try, and that is totally fine.
I already talked to my catering chef, and they’re okay with sharing the space.
Oh, speak of the devil—my fiancé is here. ”
“Hola, mi amor.” Luciano picks up Sofia sweepingly and twirls her around. She giggles excitedly. They kiss passionately for what feels like an uncomfortable amount of time.
Maria and I look at each other, feeling like we’re peeping at a private moment. Maria clears her throat loudly, alerting them.
“Sorry, ladies. I just can’t help myself around her.” Luciano smiles and pulls her closer. “I’m Luciano, but you can call me Luc.”
“Amor, these are my cousins, Maria and Isabella. Isa is the one who has the restaurant I told you about.”
“Ah, Isabella! So nice to meet you.”
He shakes my hand, and it feels like he could easily break my knuckles with just an ounce more of pressure.
“Hello! It’s so nice to meet you, too, finally. I’ve heard so much about you and your family,” I fib. I really need to do my research. “I just want to thank you for the opportunity to tell you about our restaurant and plans.”