Chapter Six #2
“Absolutely. We’ll set up a time to meet this week where you can show me your business plan, and I can sample a few dishes, but other than that, I’m excited just to learn more about you.”
“Me?” I gulp.
“Yes, of course. I want to know who I may be working with. We’d be partners, after all. And also, family soon.”
He reaches for a side hug and pulls Maria in on his other side.
My palms feel sweaty. Learning more about me? What if he learns too much?
“Sofia, could you come over here?” asks one of the employees, completely wrapped up in string lights.
“I’ll be right there.” Sofia sighs. “I can’t catch a break.
Anyways, Isa, again, I’m seriously so happy you came.
I have so much to say. For now, though, you should definitely settle in.
Your cabin is all ready to go. Also, please do not forget to say hi to Rosita and Abuelita before you go to your cabin, or I will not hear the end of it. ”
“You got it,” I reach for the cabin keys from her as she scurries away to help untangle the helpless staff from the lights. Cabin 101.
Maria grabs the key to inspect it.
“Oh, damn. I recognize this cabin number! It’s one of the renovated cabins—the nicer ones, single occupancy. What the hell? Clearly, she has a favorite cousin.” Maria scoffs. “I’m taking back my birthday gift from last year that I forgot to actually give to her.”
I squint at her, confused. “How do you even know that?”
“I used to stay here all the time when I was younger. My family came up to the camp a few times every summer. Guess that’s what happens when you’re family friends with the owners.”
Her words hit me like a reminder of everything I’m not.
This was my family too, but I never had a summer at the camp.
While Maria and Valentina spent their summers in fancy cabins, I was back home helping my parents run the restaurant, making sure the bills were paid.
The contrast between us feels sharper in moments like this.
“Why would she give me an entire cabin? Weird…”
We head toward the cabins, hoping to catch Rosita or my grandmother so we can end this introduction portion of the week early.
“Maybe it’s an olive branch? She could be reaching out and trying to make amends.” Maria shrugs.
“Maybe…”
We pass a couple more stand-alone open bars, and Maria grabs another mimosa for the road.
Maria stops at one of the cabins. “Oh, this is mine. I’ll see you at dinner, Isa. I am so tired,” she says, fake yawning.
“Excuse me? Why do I have to face family by myself?”
“Ugh, just…so tired.” She scoots toward her cabin door. “Gotta go!” She rushes inside.
“You traitor! I hope your cabin is haunted! I hope the killer is in there!” I shout.
“Is that my little Isabellita I hear screaming?” a shaky voice squeaks from one of the Adirondack chairs in front of the next cabin.
I walk over to see my adorable grandmother enjoying the sun’s rays while simultaneously protecting her skin under a light orange shawl. Her eyes are squinting, but they always look like that. Almost as if they’re permanently closed. Her grey hair hangs down the sides of her face in waves.
“Abuelita!” I squeal and rush over to her.
I want to hug her tight, but I’m afraid she may break in half. I kiss her a few times on the forehead and sit beside her.
“Como estas, mijita?” she says slowly and softly.
A wave of guilt hits me, sharp and sudden.
Abuelita was my father’s mother. But after Rosita and Mariposa’s falling out, she started to create some distance between us.
When my father died, Rosita took her in like her own mother and took care of her.
If you ask anyone in our family, she’s everyone’s Abuelita.
I haven’t seen her since my father’s funeral—three years ago.
Not because I didn’t want to, but because Mami has made it clear she doesn’t get along with this side of the family.
Visits were few and far between, and then nonexistent after Papi died.
But seeing Abuelita now, so much older in just a few years, so much frailer, it feels as if I’ve missed too much.
She moves slowly, more methodically, as if she’s taking her time as time slowly takes her. Tears well up in my eyes.
“I’m great, Abuelita. How are you? Eating well? Sleeping well? I missed you so much,” I say, my voice cracking.
“Oh, mijita. Don’t worry about me. I’m still kicking, verdad? I’m only eighty-four.” She lifts her arms to show off her nonexistent biceps. “I even go to the gym.”
“Oh, dang. I see.” I pinch her biceps and nod approvingly, which clearly pleases her.
“I’m so happy you’re here, mijita. We weren’t sure if you were going to make it. Y Mariposa?”
I sit quietly for a moment, staring at the workers in the distance, finally setting up the curtain lights they untangled.
“She won’t be coming, Abuelita. You know how it is.”
“Si, mija.” She pauses. “I know.”
“I wish I knew what happened. You know, between Rosita and Mariposa that night.”
I look over at my grandmother, her eyes wandering the sky, watching the chickadees fly by from tree to tree, singing her a sweet song as they pass by. A smile slowly creases her face.
“Are you bothering Abuelita?” A stern voice comes from my right, startling me.
I see Rosita standing with her hands on her full hips, grinning. Her thick straight black hair practically takes over her entire head, complementing her round face. I can see some greys shining through.
“Tía!” I rush over to her at full speed and reach my arms around her body, squeezing as hard as possible.
“Mijita, I missed you so much! I can’t believe you’re here. Look at you!”
She pulls me away to look me up and down. She grabs my hand and makes me twirl, which only makes me giggle. I feel like I’m fifteen again, at my quince, begging to dance with my favorite aunt.
Her warmth is like a balm I didn’t realize I needed.
I’d been dreading this trip, convinced I’d feel like an outsider, a fraud among family.
But standing here with Rosita—feeling her genuine pride and joy—it’s almost enough to chip away at the knot of anxiety that’s been living in my chest. For a fleeting moment, I wonder if coming here might not be so bad after all.
“You look incredible, Isabella. I’ve heard so many amazing things about you. I heard the restaurant is doing well from Sofia, and you’re looking to expand. Look at your gorgeous dress! I’m so proud of you, mija.”
Her words burn a hole through my heart. My clearance-rack dress is really starting to feel like a pile of rags against my skin that everyone can tell is slowly unraveling at the hem.
“Yeah, I hope to impress Luciano enough this week to win an investment. I even brought Roberto’s book,” I say enthusiastically.
“El Libro Sagrado?” Rosita looks at me, shocked. “I thought it was locked. He always boasted about having his little secrets inside that no one could see. It would drive your mother mad. It made me laugh, but I was always curious.”
“Well, I think I have the key. Somewhere,” I say.
Currently, my only plan is to slice through the book cover to get to the pages. My father said I have the key, but I still don’t know what that means.
“Your father was always full of secrets, wasn’t he? Loved puzzles.”
“Yeah, there are many things in my life that are a puzzle to me.” I hesitate. “Like what happened at our quinceanera. Do you…”
“Ah, si. I remember.”
My eyes widen. I can feel my heart start to pick up the pace.
“I remember you all looking so beautiful that night. You in your gorgeous royal-blue dress. My little Sofia in her one-of-a-kind designer dress. Oh, I’ll never forget Miss Valentina.”
“Oh, that’s not what I meant, Tía—”
“Have you seen Valentina yet?” Rosita cuts in.
“What? Yes, I have. She picked me up when my—friend’s car broke down.”
“Oh, I see,” Rosita says, grinning. “She’s still as pretty as ever, huh?”
“Yeah, I guess?” I shrug, feeling a flicker of annoyance. I know where this is going.
“Maybe you two should finally stop bickering and…” Rosita raises her eyebrows suggestively. “You know, get together.”
“Have you been speaking to Maria today?” I quip. It’s as if they think just because we used to be close, there’s some inevitable romantic ending waiting for us. But there’s not. We’re not like that.
Rosita shrugs. “I don’t know. You two were so close growing up—a bond like that never disappears. Plus, you could use a little distraction from all that work, mija.”
“Tía! No. Absolutely not. I have better things to do this weekend than spend time with her, especially after what she did.”
“Ay, Isa. It was ten years ago. She’s changed. You’ve changed. Give her a chance. Anyways, I have to go. Check out your cabin and get settled in before dinner.”
Yet again, another family member walks away before I can finish saying what I need to say.
Everyone must be busy and flustered about this big week ahead of us.
I myself feel like I’m spiraling, and I just got here.
I just need to get through this day. Then the next.
And the next. I groan. Maybe a nap in my quiet cabin will be just the ticket.