“Look for Concepción’s notes. You checked your attic. We should check my ma’s.” I paused. “Want to help? We’ve got a couple hours of daylight left.”
She glanced toward the stairs, then back at me. “I should probably shower first. I’m a mess.”
“You look fine.” More than fine, but I wasn’t about to say that.
“Give me fifteen minutes. I’ll change and meet you there.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
I watched her run up the stairs, then let myself out.
Twenty minutes later,Saffron arrived at the main house at Los Cab, where I’d been waiting outside for her. She’d changed into fitted jeans and a soft gray Henley that hugged her curves in ways that made my mouth go dry. Her hair was still damp from the shower, falling in waves past her shoulders.
“Sorry I’m late,” she said, climbing out of her truck. “I couldn’t find my good flashlight.”
“We won’t need it. The attic has lights.” I hoped. “Come on.”
My mother was in the kitchen when we walked in, and the smell of cinnamon filled the air.
“Salazar? Is that you?” she called.
“Yeah, Ma. I brought Saffron.”
My mom appeared in the hallway, wiping her hands on a dish towel. “Mija!What a wonderful surprise.”
“Hi, Mrs. Avila.” Saffron’s smile lit up the room—and my heart, if I was honest. “Sorry to drop in unannounced.”
“Don’t be silly. You’re always welcome here.” Ma hugged her, then leaned away. “Are you eating enough? You look too thin.”
“She ate fine this morning,” I muttered. “Allmyfood, in fact.”
Saffron elbowed me. “He’s right. I did eat most of his breakfast. You should worry more about him.”
My mother made a noncommittal sound. “I have snickerdoodles cooling on the counter. Fresh out of the oven.”
“Actually, we need to look through the attic. We’re searching for some old family records.”
“The attic?” One brow rose. “What kind of records?”
“Anything from Eduardo and Concepción’s time. We’re looking for wine formulas.”
“For the Christmas Blessing Wine?” Ma’s eyes widened.
I was stunned she knew about it and said so.
“Of course I know about it. You’re going to make it?”
“We’re going to try,” Saffron said.
“That’s wonderful.” Ma pressed a hand to her chest. “You’re welcome to check the attic if you want, but I don’t remember seeing anything like that.”
“Thanks, Ma.”
“I’ll give you some cookies to take up with you,” she said, already heading back to the kitchen.
After grabbing a platter of snickerdoodles that my mom had covered with plastic wrap—good thinking—I led Saffron upstairs and pulled the attic ladder down. It groaned in protest, raining dust on both of us.
“Watch your step,” I said, climbing up first. “The boards creak.”
