“Mija,” she says quietly, “you are not your job. You are not what they say about you. You are more.”
My throat tightens. “I worked so hard, Mama. I did everything right.”
“I know.”
“I don’t deserve this.”
“I know,” she repeats, firmer this time. “But sometimes life is cruel and not fair. That’s when you have to be strong.”
Marisol appears in the doorway, arms crossed, eyes flashing. “So? What did those museum people say?”
“The Louvre blacklisted me,” I say bluntly. There is no way to make this sound better.
Marisol’s jaw drops. “Are you kidding me? Because of that idiot Count?”
I shrug.
“Pendejos?*,” she mutters, pulling me into a hug. “You’ll land on your feet,hermana?*.”
Mama leaves, probably to tell Papi whathappened, and ten minutes later, my cousins, Marco and Luis, are in the small office. And five minutes later, my uncle and aunt are there; as are two servers who’ve worked at Mi Tierra, Papi’s restaurant, and Papi’s sous chef, Lola.
“You want me to call someone?” Marco offers, flexing his hands. “Because I can call someone.”
“To do what?” I ask.
“Break some legs,” Marco replies evenly.
I roll my eyes.
“Or you can come to the site,” Luis suggests. He and Marco run a construction company.
“Si,” Marco agrees enthusiastically. “We’re short on workers this week. And we’re tearing down a wall. Be a good distraction.”
“You’re both nuts,” I tell them. They are. They’re also adorable.
“No, no, she comes to the Vino Tinto,”Tia?* Camila says. She andTio?* Diego run a swanky wine bar two doors away, where they serve Spanish wine.
Papi folds his arms and looks at me. “Tara,mija, you have options.”
I smile unsteadily. It’s good to be surrounded by people who care, especially when my life is imploding.
“ButIdon’t.” He winks at me. “I have one server down with the flu, and another is on maternity leave. So, you see, Ineed help here.”
“Si?*, Papi.”
And by the end of the day, I’m wearing an apron withMi Tierraembroidered on it.
Papi grins at me from where he’s flipping tortillas on thecomalwhen I come to pick up an order from the kitchen. “This place suits you,mija. Working here will fix you up in no time.”
The scent of onions sizzling in the pan, and carne asada on the grill, wraps around me like a blanket. It’s humbling. It’s home.
I give him a dry look. “Really?”
He laughs. “Yes. We’ll double your shifts, so it can happen faster.”
* Caldo de resis a Mexican beef and vegetable soup (Spanish)
* Chocolate with cinnamon (Spanish)
