Chapter Seven #2
“I’m twenty-five. How about you?” She mumbles underneath several layers of cotton.
“More like three.” I scoff, kneeling on the bed to tug at the blanket some more. “You’re being so immature!”
“Look who’s talking,” she yells back.
“I just thought it would be fair to give me the blanket since you get the bed. Is that so far-fetched?”
Silence.
“Ugh, whatever.” I push Valentina, rolling her deeper into the covers. “Keep it, you child. See if I care.”
I crawl off the bed and shake myself off.
The fleece blanket isn’t that bad anyways.
It’s certainly better than whatever sandpaper blanket Sofia placed on the cot, so I’ll be fine.
She can keep her stupid blanket. I walk back over to the dresser to keep unpacking and to distract myself from the brat I’ve been forced to room with for the week.
She thinks she’s so charming and funny. I scoff again, and I start to wonder if I will make it out of this alive.
I guess it doesn’t matter as long as I win the investment for La Mariposa.
“Are you folding your underwear?”
I snap my head around to see that she has unfurled herself from the burrito of immaturity and is now seated, leaning against the back wall for support and scrolling her phone.
“So what if I am?” I snap.
“It just seems a little…much. You’re very tidy.”
“Well, one of us has to be,” I grumble.
She chuckles, gazing up from her phone and staring at me. I don’t know why, but it makes my ears hot. That damn smile. I guess all those awkward teenage years in braces paid off.
“I bet you have a different designer underwear for each day of the week, too, huh?”
I look down at my lacy white underwear. Parts of the lace have come undone, leaving little gaps. These panties are so damn old, the tag has completely worn off.
“I do not. Mind your business, okay? We can’t all be so…free-spirited like you,” I say, rolling my eyes.
I can hear Valentina chuckle to herself as I turn around to continue folding my underwear.
Why do I feel so lightheaded? It’s as if there’s an emptiness in my stomach.
Butterflies? Maybe the thought of Valentina as a burrito is making me hungry.
Yeah, that might be the one. So what if I organize my underwear?
It just means it’s one less thing for me to think about throughout my day.
I don’t wake up in the morning trying to fish through the drawer and find the perfect pair to wear.
And since no one sees them anyways, why does it matter what I do with them? She makes me so mad I could just—
“Neat book.”
I turn around to see Valentina standing a mere few inches away from me.
I didn’t even hear her get up. I was too distracted with my thoughts about how much she sucks.
I use my peripherals to glance behind me and spot El Libro Sagrado sitting on the dresser.
I feel a sense of panic, but I can’t move.
I’m fixated on Valentina’s eyes, staring back at me with curiosity and amusement.
As if she’s a tomb raider staring at an ancient artifact she’s been looking for her entire career.
I gulp, but my throat is dry. She pulls in closer, both of her hands on the dresser, trapping me in between.
I smell her perfume again. The vanilla is practically hypnotic.
I don’t know what’s happening right now, but I don’t want it to end for some strange reason.
I look back up at her. She’s smiling slightly.
Almost slyly. As if she knows exactly what she’s doing.
I hold my breath, glancing down at her lips.
Her lips. Fuck. She pulls in even closer, reaching one hand behind me.
Then she slowly pulls away from me, revealing a phone charger in her hand.
“Phone’s going to die.” She chuckles.
It feels like someone dumped freezing-cold water onto my body. The jolt is almost disorienting.
“Right. Your phone.” I cough.
She lingers momentarily, licks her lips once, grins, and returns to the bed.
I’m frozen. I can’t even move right now. I feel so ridiculous, but I can’t have imagined that whole thing, right? Maybe I did.
“Don’t forget, Friday comes after Thursday when you’re organizing your thongs.” She laughs.
“You’re such a—”
“Hey, pendejas! Am I interrupting anything?”
I look toward the door to see Maria standing there. This is just what I need. A distraction from my already crumbling world and patience.
“No, not at all.” I glare at Valentina, who only smiles back at me, seemingly amused.
“Mm-hmm,” Maria says, unconvinced. Suddenly, her eyes widen. “Is that Roberto’s book?” she yelps.
“Yes! Let’s talk about it…outside,” I suggest, trying to find any reason to get out of this stuffy cabin. I need some fresh air.
Finally, I’m able to peel myself from the spot, but I almost don’t want to move. I want to linger in those weird feelings for a second longer. Figure out what the hell happened. Or maybe I’m just overthinking it like I do everything in my life. I grab the book and follow Maria outside.
We pass by a few guests, some of whom I don’t recognize. One stares at me a bit too long, almost as if she’s glaring at me.
Maria snorts. “Damn, Isa. You already made an enemy.”
I scoff. “Shut up,” I say. “She probably doesn’t know who I am and was trying to figure it out.”
Walking toward the dock, we’re distracted by the staff running around preparing the area for dinner. There are even a few servers standing around holding trays of food.
“Oh shit. Hors d’oeuvres!” Maria shouts as she runs over to one of the servers.
“Maria! I’m sure it’s for dinner, don’t take any.”
“Actually, we’ve been hired to have these trays available at any time of the day,” the server says with a rehearsed smile.
“See?” Maria grins. “Damn, Sofia went all out.”
I watch as Maria grabs nearly half the tray of smoked trout croquettes.
“Thanks! Keep ’em coming,” Maria shouts to the waiter as we walk away.
I regret not bringing a jacket with me, as the temperatures have already dropped significantly.
A shiver develops deep in my muscles. But despite it feeling so brisk, it feels…
nice. Probably because I was getting so hot inside the cabin, but I need this—this wake-up call.
I was so lost in that back-and-forth with Valentina that I had already forgotten my purpose for being here. I clutch my father’s book tightly.
“So, are you two getting along?” Maria asks.
I shrug.
“That bad, huh?” She laughs.
“She’s just so immature. Why can’t I just stay with you? I’ll bring my cot.”
“Our cabin is full and I don’t want to smell your feet all night.”
“My feet do not smell,” I protest.
“Besides, clearly Sofia put you with her there for a reason. Maybe she wants you to hash it out and be friends again? You’ve hated her since the dress incident, but before that we were all practically besties. Give her a chance, pendeja.”
“She’s messy, too,” I say, ignoring her. “Did you see the cabin?”
“It didn’t look messy to me.” Maria chuckles, knowing we have different tidiness standards. “You’re too picky, Isa.”
“Well, it was to me. She refused to let me sleep on the bed instead, and when I finally caved and suggested she at least give me the blanket, she wrapped herself in it. Can you believe that?”
Maria laughs even harder.
“It’s not funny! She’s ridiculous. I just need to focus on why I’m here. To save the restaurant and prove everyone wrong.”
“What are they wrong about?” Maria asks.
“About me. And my mother. Being poor, pathetic failures.”
“I see. And what makes you think they think that?”
“Are you kidding?” I scoff. “Just look at the way they look at me. They scan my entire outfit as if they can detect I got it on sale at TJ Maxx because it had a rip. My mother has constantly told me what they’ve said about us.
How we’re not a real part of the rest of the family.
How we ‘don’t fit in.’ I’ve heard it all.
And it’s time that they eat their words. ”
“Ooh, feisty. I like it.” Maria grins.
We arrive at the dock overlooking the lake. The sun is slowly setting, meaning it’s almost time for the first dinner. Time flies when you’re dealing with a child, I guess. We sit on the two black Adirondack chairs at the edge of the dock.
“Well, I still think you should give Valentina a chance. She’s cute,” Maria protests.
“Sure, if you’re into that tall, effortlessly gorgeous bit,” I grumble.
“Sounds like you’re into her,” she replies.
“Absolutely not. I can’t—I need to focus on why I’m here. I can’t have any distractions,” I insist.
“Well, maybe you need the distraction.”
I look over at her, curious.
“I’m just saying, Isa. When was the last time you let yourself have a little fun? What’s some harmless flirtation going to do? You can still focus on impressing Luciano and tricking the entire family and allow yourself to enjoy this.”
“Sh, sh. No more of that,” I say, putting my finger near her mouth. “I will absolutely never flirt with Valentina. Anybody but her.”
“Okay.” Maria laughs. “Whatever you say, prima. So, it’s time. Show me the book.”
I hand her my father’s book carefully as if, at any moment, the pages will just disintegrate into thin air, and I’ll lose my only chance at finding out what is hidden in the leather binding of this journal.
“It’s locked,” she states.
“Yeah, I know. I thought I could rip it open or use a chef’s knife from the kitchen to cut it. Is that bad?”
“You’re asking me if it’s bad to mutilate your late father’s book just to see what’s inside? The man who loved giving you puzzles to solve? No, it’s totally fine. I’m sure he’d love how resourceful you are. I can hear him rolling in his grave now. Isabella, you betrayed meeee.”
“Okay, I get it.” I roll my eyes and grab the book from her. I stare at the cover, looking at every crease in the leather made by wear and tear.
“What did the note you recently got from your dad say again?” Maria asks.
I reach into my pockets to try and find it again, to no avail. I definitely left it in the apartment back in Jersey.
“It said something like, ‘You’ll find the truth in my journal. You have the key.’ I think. I don’t remember exactly now. I don’t even know what the key could be.”
Maria laughs.
“What’s so funny?” I look over at her, confused.
“You’re the worst sleuth. After all these years growing up with your father, I can’t believe you don’t know the answer to this clue. You really are a pendeja.”
“What do you mean!” I shout.
I search my thoughts quickly, trying to find the answer before she makes me feel stupid.
“Did you get it?” She chuckles as she watches me try to figure it out.
“No,” I say, surrendering. “Tell me if you know.”
“Stupid.” She reaches for my neck and grabs my necklace.
I look down at the necklace, confused. It’s the same necklace I’ve been wearing for months—the last thing my father left me.
The pendant is small and simple, shaped like a delicate teardrop, with faint, intricate etchings along its surface.
It always seemed decorative, but now Maria’s expression tells me it’s more than that.
“Wait, this is the key?” I ask, my pulse quickening. “How did you even know?”
Maria smirks. “Your dad told me once—well, sort of. Remember when we were kids, and he was always working on his little projects, hiding things around the house? I asked him why he never just used regular locks, and he laughed and said, ‘Locks are too easy. Real secrets hide in plain sight.’ He never directly said this was a key, but when I saw that necklace around your neck, something clicked. It looks like a pendant, but it has that hidden quality your dad was obsessed with. I had a feeling it was a key to something—I just didn’t know what. ”
I frown. “But it doesn’t even look like a key.”
Maria holds the pendant up, turning it in the light.
“Exactly. Your dad loved puzzles, right? He probably made it look like something ordinary so no one would suspect. See these tiny ridges along the side?” She taps the pendant, revealing the delicate notches etched into its edge.
“It’s meant to fit into something more intricate—like the lock on that journal. ”
I stare at her, feeling like an idiot. “Oh my God,” I groan. “I’ve been walking around with this key the whole time.”
“Yeah, you have.” Maria laughs. “Try it.”
I unclip the necklace from my neck, my pulse quickening.
The pendant feels heavier now, its significance suddenly clear.
My hands tremble as I grab the journal, the lock small but intricate, just like Maria said.
I line up the pendant’s notches with the lock’s grooves and hesitate.
I turn to Maria, who’s staring intently at the journal.
“Turn it, stupid,” she shouts, growing impatient.
“All right, damn. I was trying to have a moment,” I murmur.
I give it a gentle twist. There’s a soft click, and the journal springs open.