Chapter Nine
I didn’t mean to walk into the dinner with Valentina, and it feels like everyone’s eyes are on us.
I clear my throat lightly to try and swallow the lump developing.
I almost regret staying behind to help her clean.
I would have had more time to mingle and find my seat.
Now it looks like I’m making some grand entrance with Valentina. As if we’re some power couple. Oh God.
“You’ve got this,” Valentina whispers. “Just pretend you’re a detective on a secret mission to uncover the truth. Like a regular Nancy Drew.”
“You can’t think of any other detective? How about an actual adult? Like Carmen Sandiego,” I argue.
She smiles. “All right, all right. Carmen, it is.”
We walk toward the long wood table set up under a canopy of string lights.
I must look like an absolute pauper next to Valentina.
Her crimson satin dress hugs her every curve as if it was specifically designed for her body.
Then again, I wouldn’t be surprised if it actually was.
I remember Sofia gloating that her quinceanera dress was created especially for her by some French designer I had never heard of.
Valentina probably got the same treatment since they were “besties.” My parents bought my dress from the discount section of a gaudy dress shop.
Even though my mother tried to alter it, she’s no seamstress.
I spent the rest of the night lifting the bust while it continuously slid down with every movement.
I feel like I’m fifteen again.
“You clean up nicely,” I whisper. “You know, from the chef’s costume.”
Valentina laughs and puts her hand on my back, pushing me slightly forward to walk around the table. A chill shoots up my spine. I hope she can’t feel my goosebumps. She continues to lead me past the servers until we’re standing in front of two chairs next to each other.
“Hey, cuz!” Maria pulls my arm and drags me down to the seat beside her. I nearly trip on my heels in the process.
“Rip my arm off, why don’t you?” I groan.
“What a coincidence you and Valentina are sitting beside each other, huh?” she whispers in my ear.
“Yeah, it is,” I say.
She moves closer to my ear.
“It’s not a coincidence,” she whispers again.
“Yeah, I know,” I retort.
“I did this,” she whispers even closer to my ear.
“Yeah, I get it, pendeja. Get your breath off me,” I say, pushing her with my shoulder.
Maria giggles as she settles back in her seat.
Voices overlap as I scan the table. This is my first time seeing everyone attending Sofia’s exclusive wedding.
The top-tier people in her life, I assume.
The people who weren’t invited probably have a severe case of FOMO.
Something about knowing that friends of Sofia didn’t make the cut makes me feel incredibly smug.
I haven’t seen her in ten years. Sure, I’m family, but it’s been a decade.
Surely, she could have invited anyone else.
“So, how about we break down everyone that’s here?” Valentina says to me while the appetizers arrive.
“Okay, that’s a great idea.” I take a bite of the soft bread a waiter brought in a basket with garlic butter.
“All right, so we have the obvious, of course. Your aunt and Sofia’s mom, Rosita. She was siblings with Mariposa and friends with Roberto. Could be a suspect.”
I shrug. “Possibly, but doubtful. She hated drama, from what I remember.”
“Next to her, we have Abuelita. An innocent old lady or a conniving menace to society? Also Roberto’s mother.”
“Excuse me,” I yelp. “Abuelita is an angel.”
“You’re right.” Valentina chuckles.
“Okay, next to her, we have my Tía Maritza and her daughter, Silvana,” I add.
“Also my ex,” Valentina mumbles quietly.
“Wait, what?” I glance over at Silvana, who just happens to be looking directly at me, almost as if she could hear our entire conversation clear as day. There’s no way—there are too many people talking at once. It sounds like a high school cafeteria out here.
“Yeah, let’s not get into that one.” She sips her wine. “Next to her, we’ve got your cousins and Sofia’s bridesmaids, Yolanda and Araceli. Doubtful they’re suspects, but we can’t rule anyone out.”
“Fair,” I play along. “You can never be too sure.”
We lean over subtly to check out the other side of the table.
“Okay, I’m sure you met Daniel, Sofia’s man bestie and guide for the whole event.”
“Yes, definitely,” I say, nodding. “Who is that guy next to him?”
“That would be Luis. He’s Luciano’s best friend and the best man for the wedding. Next to him are the two twins, Ramon and Rafael. They’re also groomsmen.”
“Okay, they’ll probably be pretty useless to me,” I say, laughing.
Valentina grins. “Undoubtedly so.”
I point my chin in the direction of the far end of the table. “That’s my cousin Alessandro—I could never forget that face. He was practically designed to be a handsome movie star.”
“If you say so. Then lastly, we have Luciano’s parents, John and Sarah, and of course, the bride and groom.”
“Right. What about the other guests? I don’t recognize any of them.”
“They’re probably a mixture of Luciano and Sofia’s college friends and some coworkers. No one important. We need to focus on the family more than anything. That’s where we will find our answers.”
I nod, a determination settling in my chest. “This is about figuring out who my father’s special recipe was for. If it wasn’t for my mother, then there’s something—someone—he wanted to remember. Tonight, we’ll gather as much intel as we can.”
Fireflies begin to wander near the table, which only makes the area look that much more magical. I watch their lights flicker on and off as they move through the bushes. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a firefly in person before. Yet, I want to catch one and put it in a jar as my night-light.
“I can’t believe there aren’t any mosquitos or flies out here. How does that happen?” Maritza says.
“That’s because I had my dear fiancé treat the entire place so they wouldn’t attack us all week.” Sofia looks at Luciano lovingly.
“She’s a murderer,” Maria whispers and laughs at her own stupid joke.
“That must have cost a fortune,” Maritza replies, almost as if she’s calculating how much it would actually cost. So nosy.
Luciano laughs. “Anything for my Sofie.”
I can hear Valentina groaning under her breath.
“That’s a lot of chemicals,” she finally says. “Isn’t that harmful to the environment, Luc?”
Everyone looks over at Valentina, then back at Luciano and Sofia.
“Oh, Val, don’t be such a tree hugger.” Sofia snorts. “It’s only for this week. They’ll be back in no time, I promise.”
“I just don’t know if I could do that.” Valentina shrugs. “But that’s just me,” she says as she sips her wine.
Sofia laughs awkwardly.
We all sit in silence for a moment. All you can hear is the clanking of spoons against the bowls as we eat our first course: spiced pumpkin bisque.
A nod to the upcoming season, I’m sure. I take my first slurp, and I’m immediately transported to a pumpkin patch.
It’s cozy, warm, and perfectly spiced. The nutmeg dances lightly around the heavy cinnamon.
A dash of cloves adds some much-needed depth.
It’s perfectly balanced. I could sit here in silence forever, just slurping up my soup.
“Cute dress,” Silvana states blandly.
I’m too distracted by my bowl of heaven to realize she’s even talking to me. Maria nudges me lightly in the ribs with her elbow. I look up to see Silvana staring directly at me. It takes me a second to remember what she said.
I look down at my dress and back up at her. A slanted smile creeps onto her face.
“Thanks,” I reply.
“Where’s it from? Forever 21?” Silvana laughs.
A rush of heat swells in my cheeks.
“It’s Calvin Klein,” I say quietly.
Silvana leans closer across the table, squinting her eyes as if it would make her vision clearer. It feels like she can see right through my dress and find that it’s just tattered rags sewn together by my mice friends.
“Doesn’t look like anything I’ve seen from him. Must be old,” she finally says.
“You mean like the Prada dress you’re wearing from four seasons ago?” Valentina chimes in.
She doesn’t look up from the wine she’s been swishing in a circle. Her long, slender fingers envelop the glass, keeping it comfortably secure in her grasp.
Silvana huffs in her seat and returns to stabbing pieces of lettuce from her side salad to shove into her mouth.
“Thanks,” I murmur loud enough for Valentina to hear.
“Anytime,” she says, pressing her leg against mine lightly.
I can’t help but wonder if Valentina was trying to defend me or just wanted to shut her ex up for once.
Either way, I feel grateful. I was sure I was just about to get exposed as the liar I am, especially considering the dress I’m wearing is a random one I found at TJ Maxx a year ago and hung up in my closet, never to be worn.
How does Valentina even know Silvana’s dress is four seasons old?
I didn’t even know there were seasons for clothing.
It’s easier to fake it with accessories; a designer bag, even if it’s not real, does most of the talking for you with all those obvious emblems. But clothes?
They’re more subtle. No logo to flash, no easy shortcut to convince people you belong.
I usually don’t have to think about it—I spend my days in my usual work clothes.
Dior and I aren’t exactly on a first-name basis.
I glance down at my dress, one I brought from home instead of from Maria’s closet.
I had tried on a few of her pieces, but none of them felt like me.
They were stunning, sure—sleek cuts, luxurious fabrics, and designer labels—but I felt like I was walking around in someone else’s life, wearing their choices, not mine.