Chapter Eight #2
I turn my head over toward her, and she’s, once again, standing undeniably close to me. I can feel the warmth of her body. Or maybe it’s just the hot ovens in the kitchen. Whatever it is, I feel lightheaded. I look up quickly into her eyes and then shift my focus back to the book.
“Sorry, I was talking out loud to myself. This is my father’s journal. It’s supposed to be sprinkled with random things, but mostly recipes—ones I want to discover to impress Luciano and win the investment. But this one here…it’s a recipe for arroz con leche,” I say.
“And?”
“It’s just weird.” I pause, inspecting the little notes around the recipes.
One note in particular, written in small print, has caught my attention.
Valentina leans against the metal counter and crosses her arms, watching me, her eyes focused. I feel her presence next to me, and suddenly the air feels heavier. I try to ignore how close she is, but it’s impossible. Her attention, so undivided and sharp, makes my throat dry.
This journal is deeply personal. It’s my father’s—his words, his memories.
I’ve barely touched the pages myself, and now Valentina is standing here, watching me leaf through them as if she has any right to see inside.
A mix of irritation and something else—something I can’t quite place—flares up inside me.
She raises her eyebrows, silently encouraging me to continue. I shift uncomfortably but finally speak.
“Well, it’s just—my mother hates rice pudding. Like, absolutely hates it. She never even lets me have any in the restaurant despite customers requesting it.”
“So? Maybe he liked it, so he wrote a recipe for it. Or she used to like it.” Valentina shrugs.
“No, it’s not that. It’s this.” I point at the note my father left on the recipe.
“‘Her favorite,’” Valentina recites. “Now that’s interesting.”
She turns around and scooches closer to me, inspecting the recipe closer—the smell of her is, again, slightly intoxicating. Maybe there’s no “slightly” about it. I shake my head.
“Who could this be for then?” Valentina asks, but to no one in particular. Like a detective would, hoping the answer would appear out of thin air.
“I’m not sure,” I say, shrugging. “It has to be someone we know, right? Maybe even a guest here at the wedding?”
“It’s possible. He could have had a totally secret life, too, though.”
“Shut up,” I groan, almost insulted by the mention that my father would be a two-timing player with a double life.
“I’m just saying.” Valentina lifts her hands in surrender.
“I’m sure it’s someone here, honestly. All of the family that is here was at our quinceanera.
Even if it isn’t someone here, there is bound to be a cousin, uncle, or aunt that has the information we need.
So what do you plan to do now? Ask every guest who likes rice pudding? ”
I look down at the recipe. I considered doing that.
Just interrogating every single person. But that wouldn’t get me much closer to an answer—lots of people like rice pudding.
But maybe, just maybe, someone really loves my father’s rice pudding.
I need everyone to try my father’s recipe and gauge their reactions.
Then, maybe I’ll know who he’s talking about and be one step closer to figuring out…
whatever he’s trying to tell me. It’s a bit of a stretch, but I have to start somewhere.
This is the first major clue and seems easy enough to get this investigation started.
Plus, as a bonus, Luciano can sample it too, bringing me one step closer to securing his investment.
“I have an idea,” I finally say as Valentina takes a sip of some leftover cafecito one of her staff made earlier.
They’ve all started tidying up the kitchen and getting trays of hors d’oeuvres ready to be brought out as the guests wait. God forbid they should have to sit around and wait for food. If I had asked my mother for a snack while she was preparing dinner, I don’t think I’d be alive right now.
Valentina just continues sipping her espresso, knowing I’ll elaborate eventually, which irritates me.
“Don’t you want to know?” I bark.
“Aren’t you going to tell me anyways? Who cares if I want to know or not,” she says with a sly smile.
My face feels flushed.
“Okay, anyways”—I huff—“I was wondering if we could make my father’s rice pudding recipe for dessert tonight. I think it would really impress Luciano.”
Valentina laughs into her coffee, causing herself to choke a bit.
“I’m serious.”
“You want to step into my kitchen? During the service? And make an entirely new dessert for your little mystery puzzle? I said you could use the kitchen for your little business plan, but changing the menu for tonight?”
“Well, I—”
She raises an eyebrow, clearly amused but skeptical. “You know my team is already prepping everything, right? This isn’t some random home kitchen. It’s a finely tuned machine.”
“I get that, but this is important. It’s my dad’s recipe. It could help me make a connection with Luciano.” I pause, trying to gauge her reaction. “Please, Val. Just this once?”
“Hey, you two. Getting along?”
Sofia saunters in, wearing a gorgeous white tulle dress with mesh details on the bodice. It has a short train that gracefully follows her every step. Her hair is curled to perfection and cascading down her shoulders and back. She’s wearing a tiny but exquisite tiara, because of course she is.
“Oh—hey.” Valentina clears her throat. “You look great.”
“You think so?” Sofia giggles and twirls.
Valentina smiles and nods.
“Obviously. Always the cutest in the room.”
I look between both of them. Why is Valentina suddenly acting so different? I want to roll my eyes, but I can’t look away, even for a second.
“So I see dinner is just about done. So excited! And you’re making the—”
“The duck confit, just like you requested,” Valentina replies.
“Ah, perfect! You’re amazing,” Sofia squeals, putting her hands on top of Valentina’s.
Valentina looks down at their hands touching, as if she’s caught in a daydream. I watch her softly caress Sofia’s fingers before Sofia pulls away quickly.
“And is everything okay for you, prima? Are you excited about the hike and brunch tomorrow? I know how much you’ve always wanted to attend this camp.”
I almost forgot I was in the room as I watched their exchange. I come back to reality for a second to respond.
“Yep! Everything is great. I’m honestly so excited to be here.
Everyone is so nice, and it’s nice to catch up and let everyone know how I’m doing.
Actually, Valentina just agreed to help me make Roberto’s famous rice pudding recipe for dessert tonight.
” I smile innocently at Valentina and then look back at Sofia.
“No. Fucking. Way.” Sofia gasps. “Are you serious? I haven’t had that for at least ten years now! Are you really going to make it, Valy?”
Valentina glances at me so fiercely, I’m pretty sure I can see daggers shoot out of her eyes and into my soul. I can’t help but smile, though.
“That wasn’t really a part of the plan, Sof,” Valentina grumbles.
“Oh, pleeeease,” Sofia begs with her hands clasped together.
She makes a whimpering sound like a helpless puppy.
“You can’t always get away with this behavior, ya know,” Valentina complains. “You’re getting married soon.”
“Oh, please, Val. Do it for me,” Sofia pleads.
Valentina laughs softly and nods her head.
“Thank you, babe! You’re the best.” Sofia jumps up and hugs Valentina, throwing her arms around her neck. Her dress lifts slightly off the floor. “I must mingle with the guests, but I’ll see you soon, right? Bye!”
We watch as she prances away, as a moment of silence grows between us. All you can hear is the clinking of dishes behind us and the murmuring of voices as the kitchen staff finishes the final touches. I watch as Valentina stares at the recipe, slowly biting her lower lip.
“So,” I say.
“What?” Valentina replies, almost surprised I’m still standing here, clearly lost in her little world.
“You’re in love with Sofia,” I state.
Valentina snaps her head so quickly in my direction I’m surprised it didn’t break right off.
“Excuse me?” She scoffs. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Oh, please. The tension was palpable. You can see it all over your puppy-dog face. How long has it been? Does she know?”
“There’s nothing to know,” Valentina says between clenched teeth.
Clearly, this is a touchy subject for her, but I’m unbelievably amused.
“Did you ever plan on telling her?”
“Don’t you have some mystery to solve? That you’ve now involved me in it,” Valentina retorts.
“Oh, my God. You weren’t going to tell her. You’re just going to let her get married and never confess? Are you also going to appear at her doorstep during Christmas with big white cardboard signs expressing your love, à la Love Actually?”
Valentina sighs deeply.
“So I’m right,” I say.
“Whatever,” Valentina replies. “It’s not a big deal anymore. She’s getting married, and I’m catering her wedding. Not to mention I’m her maid of honor.”
“Why are you even working at your best friend’s wedding?”
“Because she asked me if I could. Her caterer dropped out at the last minute, and she begged me one night, crying on my couch. How could I let her down, you know? I wanted to show her that I was there for her till the very end.”
I sit on the metal counter, facing the staff, and watch them move swiftly around the kitchen.
I snort. “That’s rough. I wouldn’t be able to do it. Watch the love of my life be with someone else. I’d go crazy. Probably ruin the wedding or something.”
“Well, actually”—Valentina looks around us to ensure no one is nearby—“I do plan on ruining the wedding.”
Suddenly, my stomach flips. I have to grab the edge of the counter to keep myself from spinning into a panic.
“Uh, come again?”