But God worked in mysterious ways—she would not judge His reasons for sending Enrique to her, whatever they were. It was simply His intention to provide her a Joseph.
She just hoped Enrique honored his word.
Blanca entered the church. While Carolina and her mother always dressed modestly, Blanca was again pushing the limits. Her white cotton top was low-cut, showing off her breasts, and her skirt was too tight. Carolina could read her sister like a book—Blanca was definitely hoping that Tiburón showed up.
Mamá’s jaw clenched. “Blanca! We’re in God’s house. Cover yourself.”
Blanca twirled her hair. “What’s wrong with this outfit? Besides, I don’t have anything else.”
Mamá pulled a cardigan from her oversized purse and tossed it to Blanca. “Now you do.”
Blanca let the garment fall to the floor. Her eyes met Mamá’s. After a brief stare-off, which Mamá clearly won with her intimidating gaze, Blanca picked up the sweater and put it on. She scanned the room. “Enrique’s not here yet? Do you think he will come?”
I checked the clock again. “I don’t know. Maybe it was some type of joke.”
Mamá shook her head. “It was no joke. It was divine. You have to believe.”
Carolina wanted to have faith and trust Enrique’s word, but she didn’t know the guy. What shedidknow was that she’d often been the butt of jokes growing up. Boys pretended to be interested in her but really only wanted beautiful Blanca, and she couldn’t even blame them. Blanca was a dead ringer for Selena. Her stomach was flat, her hair was long and shiny, her lips were full, and she had a dazzling smile. Carolina’s hair could best be described as a frizzy mess, her body was soft and curvy, and she had no upper lip. The lifetime of rejection stung, for sure. What kind of man would ever be interested in Carolina when her younger sister was so captivating?
She hated to think like that—that her worth was somehow contingent on her looks—but at twenty-three, she was approaching old maid status in her culture and community. Though she wasn’t seeking a suitor, it would be nice, for once in her life, to meet a man who was interested inher, not just using Carolina to get to her younger sister.
Or, as probably in Enrique’s case, to monopolize her farm.
“Well, if he doesn’t show up, we won’t have a Joseph. It will be fine.” Her chest tightened. It would not be fine. She would be the first Mary in the history of Las Posadas in Santa Maria not to have a Joseph. Everyone would laugh at her. She could hear the mean-girl bullies now.Poor Carolina couldn’t even get some guy to agree to walk with her.And these mean-girls were now women, married women. Most of them never left Santa Maria and never would. Carolina wished sometimes she could go somewhere new and start over.
Deep voices filled the hall from beyond the door. Footsteps rang out in the church. Then the door flew open.
Enrique stood there in a long brown robe, his hair loose, clutching a cane.
Whoa.
Though the robe was loose, his muscular chest bulged through a white undershirt. He winked, and she turned her head to see if Blanca was standing behind her. But Blanca was standing next to Mamá and not in Enrique’s line of vision. When Carolina finally regained the nerves to look at him again, he was still staring at her.
Ugh, why did he have to be so hot? She was in a church playing the Virgin Mary. She shouldn’t be having lascivious thoughts about this sexy man. Well, at least Father Juan was leading the procession. When the night was over, he could march her straight to confession. Really, who sins while playing the Virgin Mary?
Carolina wouldn’t be the only one sinning tonight. Blanca was licking her lower lip and her pupils were dilated. But her little sister wasn’t looking at Enrique; she was staring at the three other men.
Standing right behind Enrique were his two brothers and the primo with the shark tattoo—dressed in long cloaks with crowns on their heads.
Carolina couldn’t help herself. She burst out laughing.
Ay, Dios mío! They were dressed as Melchior, Caspar, and Balthazar, the Three Kings. Three Kings Day wasn’t until January sixth, but Carolina was already excited for that part of her holiday celebrations. These Montez men would most certainly not still be in town to find the baby Jesus hidden in the Rosca de Reyes sweet bread. And that was in the best interest of all, because if one of them found it, he would have to host a tamale party for Día de la Candelaria in February.
What sort of tamales would the Taco Kings cook? Would Enrique get in the kitchen and whip up some sort of feast?
Ay, stop! Why was she thinking about February?
Blanca walked over to the men. Jaime stroked his red velvet cape. “Nice outfits, gentlemen. Where did you get them on such short notice?”
Tiburón puffed out his chest, his green cloak the grandest of all. It even had a faux-fur trim. “I made them last night.”
Tiburón turned his attention to Mamá. “My name is Tiburón Garcia, by the way. Mucho gusto, Señora Flores.” Mamá cautiously extended her hand and Tiburón kissed it.
Well played, dude. But it’s not going to work. Blanca can’t date.
Mamá politely returned the greeting. “Mucho gusto, Señor Garcia. Welcome to our church.”
Blanca’s eyes widened, and she eased close to Tiburón. Then she dramatically tossed her hair. “Youmadethem? These are so gorgeous. Are you a tailor?”
