“She’s not easy to describe. Warm, loud, impossible to argue with. She raised the seven of us basically on her own after my dad died, and she did it without ever losing her mind, which is a miracle, honestly.” I smiled at the memories flooding in. “She’ll probably cry when we tell her about the baby. Fair warning.”
“Cry?”
“Happy tears. She’s been waiting for me to bring someone home for years.” I grinned. “This weekend, all bets are off. She’s going to feed you until you can’t move, show you my baby pictures, andprobably interrogate you about our plans for the future while pretending she’s just making conversation.”
“That sounds…” She paused.
“Terrifying?”
“I was going to say nice,” she said barely above a whisper.
We droveup to the main house just as the sun was starting to sink toward the hills.
I’d barely put the car in park before the front door flew open.
“Mijo!”My mother crossed the distance in seconds, hugging me just as my feet hit the ground. “You’re here. Finally.”
“Hi, Ma.” I wrapped my arms around her, breathing in her familiar scent.
She leaned away, put her hands on my cheeks, and studied me the way she always did when I came home. “You look good. Rested.” Her eyes shifted to Isabel, who had come around the car and stood a few feet away, her posture uncertain. “And you brought someone.”
“I did.” I reached for Isabel’s hand, drawing her forward. “Ma, you know Isabel Van Orr. Isabel, this is Lucia.”
“We’ve met at various events over the years. It’s lovely to have you here, Isabel. Welcome to our home.”
“Thank you for having me, Mrs. Avila.”
“Lucia, please.” She waved away the formality and embraced Isabel in a way that clearly caught her off guard. “Any friend of Rascon’s is welcome here. Come with me, both of you. I have dinner almost ready.”
Isabel shot me a startled look over my mom’s shoulder. I just smiled.
Inside, the house smelled like garlic and tomatoes and fresh bread, as Ma ushered us into the dining room. “Rascon, get whatever you and Isabel would like to drink.”
I went to the kitchen and poured us two tall glasses of ice water.
“Sit, sit,” she said, gesturing toward the table when I joined them. “Talk to me. Tell me everything. How long are you staying? What have you been doing with yourselves?”
I let Isabel answer the questions about work while I watched the two of them together. Isabel was nervous—I could see it in the too-straight line of her spine—but by the time dinner was on the table, some of the tension had left her shoulders.
“Ma,” I said, once we’d made it through the first course, “there’s something I want to tell you.”
Her intense gaze settled on me.
“Isabel and I are together. And it’s serious.” I reached for Isabel’s hand on the table. “She’s important to me.”
My mother’s face broke into a smile so wide it crinkled the corners of her eyes. “I knew it. The moment you walked in, I knew.” She stood from her chair and came around the table to embrace us both—first me, then Isabel, holding her a beat longer. “Welcome to the family,mija.”
Isabel’s emotion was apparent when she responded. “Thank you.”
Ma returned to her seat. “This calls for a celebration. Tomorrow, I’ll host a luncheon at the Stonehouse. All the women of the family.” She began counting on her fingers. “Saffron, Alex, Jaicon, Addison, Eberly, Ainsley, Daphne. You are the final member to join our family, Isabel. Let us welcome you properly.”
Isabel’s hand tightened on mine.
“That’s very generous,” she said, “but you don’t have to go to any trouble?—”
“Trouble?” Ma laughed. “This is not trouble. This is joy. Besides, I’ve been looking for an excuse to geteveryone together.” She reached across and patted Isabel’s hand. “Say yes. Let us do this for you.”
Isabel looked at me, and I gave her hand a gentle squeeze—in support, not pressure. This was her choice.
