23. The Thirteenth Family #2
“Regina is your natural successor. Everyone knows you’re grooming her to inherit your seat of power within the Twelve Families.
That alone should raise questions about your objectivity but the other Apostles see it as a necessary evil.
The Narvaez-Sandoval feud is at the root of all the instability of the last decade and you’ve remedied it by choosing legitimacy and peacefully passing on your power to her.
” He continues. “One day, people are going to expect you to step down completely. What happens when you don’t? ”
“Who said I wouldn’t?” I snap.
“Who said you would?”
Mauricio shuffles uncomfortably between us and falls back a few steps so Dimitrio and I are walking together upfront.
“I know you, Alejandro. I’ve known you all your life,” he says. “And I know you’re dreading this transition almost as much as you’re praying for its success—it’s in your nature.”
I try to ignore him but he picks up the pace and eventually blocks my path.
“You’ve always struggled with the push and pull of temptation.
” He shakes his head at my attempt to interrupt him.
“I don’t doubt your desire for peace. Of course you want it to work out.
But this life has always called to you and it always will.
You’re drawn to it, Alex. It’s like you can’t help yourself. ”
I’m not sure what to say. Words get tangled in my throat and I can’t sort through them fast enough to place on the tip of my tongue. Instead, I move past him and continue on the path home.
Wondering if he’s right and not willing to accept it if he is.
* * *
When I get home, the kitchen is in a state of chaos.
Dona Ana is slaving over an olla almost as tall as her simmering on the stove.
Steam rises to her face and she churns the liquid inside with a heavy wooden spoon the length of her forearm.
Karina stands behind her, slicing open plátanos in record speed with the edge of a dull knife, stripping them of their thick, green skins to get to the fruit inside.
Once they’ve been skinned, she cuts them up into perfect cubes and tosses them into a caldero of hot oil.
“I wasn’t aware we were feeding half the city.” I say.
“Abuelo’s coming.” Karina doesn’t look up from her plátano cutting. “He called last-minute.”
“Tio!”
I look over and Allegra stands by the breakfast table in a pair of tap shoes two sizes too big. Lettie’s steps match the beat of the salsa music playing from the speaker on the table and when Allegra makes a distracted half twirl, she gives her niece’s chubby hands a gentle tug.
“Focus, Lela,” She’s bent over slightly at the waist in order to reach Allegra’s height. “Otra vez. Front then back.”
Allegra presses her lips together and her brows furrow over a pair of enormous, vibrant blue eyes.
No one knows where such a striking color came from—they’re darker than Abuelo’s and more intense than Diego’s—and so big and round they take up most of her baby doll face.
Looking into her eyes is like having the deepest Mediterranean waters reflected back at you.
Despite her shoes being too big, she takes confident, definitive steps, doing her best to follow her aunt’s lead.
Lettie attempts to introduce hip swaying to their movements but Allegra is aggressive in her pursuit of perfection and ends up shaking so hard the layers of her tutu go up in a flurry.
Karina snorts as she attempts to hide her laughter and Allegra’s head whips around at the sound.
Having realized she’s the reason for one of her mother’s rare displays of joy, she smiles so wide dimples appear in both cheeks.
I drop to my hunches and take her face in my hands as I press a kiss against her forehead. “How was the doctor?”
“They shooted me!” She announces.
Karina startles and drops a plátano in the hot oil too quickly. It sizzles and pops and she jumps away to avoid getting burned. “Vaccinated, Lelita, Jesus Christ.”
Lettie smiles with pride and bends down to scoop up her niece. “She’s so clever, isn’t she. Just like her Senorita Tía.”
“She’s three, Leticia,” Karina deadpans. “Don’t you think that’s a little pretentious for a three-year-old?”
“Three and a half,” Lettie corrects. “Someone has to properly educate my niece.”
A sigh comes from the other end of the room and Dahlia rounds the corner holding a pair of porcelain serving plates in her hands. “Don’t mind Professor Narvaez over there; she’s raising baby Einstein.”
Lettie lifts her chin indignantly and holds Allegra close to her chest. “Come on, Lela. It’s our reading time anyway.”
Karina’s head shoots up at that and she forgets the plátanos frying on the stove. “You’re not reading One Hundred Years of Solitude again, are you?”
“We can’t hear you!” Lettie calls over her shoulder as she and a giggling Allegra take the back stairs up to the main apartment.
“I wasn’t aware we needed such a grand production for Abuelo.” I grab an apple from the fruit bowl and bite into it. “Dahlia’s wearing her dinner heels.”
She sets the serving plates down on the island and turns to me. “We were hoping we could finally convince him to move in.”
“You know that’s never going to happen. He hates living with people.”
“Yes, but he isn’t getting any younger.” Dahlia counters. The concern in her voice is palpable. “He has a history of stroke and is in his eighties. I’d be more at peace knowing he was here and not in Vallvidrera.”
I tilt my head back and forth, considering. “He has another twenty years in him at least.”
She purses her lips. “Alex.”
Karina lets out a laugh. Her second in one day; a new world record. “Ese viejo nos va a enterrar a todos.”
Dahlia’s lips purse. “Can we be serious for a second? I’m concerned. At this age, he shouldn’t be on his own.”
“Dahlia, Abuelo is nearly the same age as our grandparents and they live alone just fine.” Karina replies.
“Ugh,” she crosses her arms. “Of course you’d say that.”
Karina picks up her knife and resumes plátano cutting. “Do me a favor and get out of the kitchen if you aren’t cooking anything. God forbid a splatter of oil gets on that dress. It probably costs more than my first car.”
I hadn’t taken in her appearance before but now that I have, I can’t look away.
I just love the way dresses look on her.
The way the light, airy fabric moves against her body every time she walks and clings to her hourglass shape like an embrace.
Fabric like that kisses her skin in all the right places; gently around the neckline, roughly at the hips, and no more than a phantom’s touch against her thighs.
Deep, golden orange with crisscrossed panels, the intricate beadwork glistens in the light like a sunset at sea, offset by the deep red of her hair, each strand the color of a pomegranate seed.
Tall, full-figured, and divinely shaped, I often wonder how the hell I got so damn lucky.
She lifts a brow at me. “Alejandro.”
“I like that dress.”
“Did you hear a word I just said?”
“How quickly do you think I can get you in and out of it?” I scan the garment for buttons or a zipper. “Do you think before dinner?”
Dahlia attempts to keep her expression neutral, irritated even, but a smile and a blush breaks through. Karina makes exaggerated vomiting noises while Dona Ana lets out a scandalized gasp.
“Ay, joven,” she casts a sideways look in my direction as she clutches her chest.
“Out,” Karina waves her knife in the direction of the exit. “Go be disgusting somewhere else.”
“With pleasure.” I snake an arm around Dahlia’s waist and tuck her against my side, lifting her a few inches off her feet.
“Wait!” She wiggles around in my grasp. “Someone make sure the chicken doesn’t burn!”
I carry her out of the kitchen and only set her down on her feet once we reach the staircase. She laughs softly and wraps her free arm around my waist. We make our way upstairs joined at the hip with her head resting on my shoulder.
“How was your day?” she asks.
“Busy. I wanted your opinion on the layout of the lounge. I think you were right.”
Her jaw drops. “This is my shocked face.”
I ignore her as we enter the apartment. In the beginning, trying to navigate a house this big was torturous, especially in the midst of so many renovations.
Hallways became rooms became corridors became closets.
Walls were constantly moving and doors kept popping up everywhere.
During the most recent renovation a few years ago, Dahlia discovered a number of blocked off staircases and sealed rooms. I’ll never forget the way her eyes lit up with the discovery.
In a house this old, every day is an adventure for her.
Whenever she encounters old floors or glass windows with their original frames intact, her soul practically ascends to heaven.
Now that we’ve lived here for a number of years, I feel more settled.
I know which staircases connect our apartment to the ground floor, basement, and garage and which hallways lead to Diego’s and Karina’s apartments.
With all this extra space it’s no wonder she wants Abuelo to move in with us so bad—she probably sees it as a new and exciting demo project.
I open our bedroom door and she steps inside first. I close it behind us and she sits in one of the love seats near the fireplace. The balcony drapes have been drawn and the last tendrils of summer light illuminate the shape of her like a cloud’s silver lining.
Noticing the encroaching darkness she looks around and turns on one of the lamps. She practically burns red and gold in this light, the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
“You and the boys are going to be accessing the second and third floors the most. I thought I’d leave the final decision up to you,” She explains.
“But you don’t have much time left to make up your mind.
Walls are going up in another week or so and I need time to go over an amended floor plan with the construction team. ”