“Well, definitely not the man I was selling to today,” Lizzie grumbled.
“¿El ‘Big Deal’ no te fue bien?” Señora Rosa tried to imitate her granddaughter’s American accent when she said “big deal.”
“No, the guy wouldn’t even let me finish,” Lizzie said glumly.
“¡Claro que no! ¿Quién se interesa en una mujer que no tiene seno y solo habla negocio?” (Of course not! Who wants a woman with no boobs who only talks business?)
“Ihaveboobs…” Lizzie said, looking at her modest chest and then adding, “and this was a sales pitch, not an audition forThe Bachelor.”
“Sí, y Yanelis fue a sacarse una muela y ya ves, se están casando.” (Yes, and Yanelis went to get a tooth pulled and now she’s engaged.)
Lizzie rolled her eyes.
Abuelatapped her temple.
“El cerebro es sexy. Pero el anillo paga la luz.” (Brains are sexy, but the ring pays the light bill.)
“Rich,” Lizzie thought, “spoken to the person who isliterallypaying the light bill. Although getting the AC fixed might be another story now.” Out loud, however, Lizzie didn’t say anything. She knew it was useless to argue with her. Lizzie’s mother had left when Lizzie was barely four years old, and Lizzie’s father had moved his parents into their home on three acres in the then-remote West Kendall area. He was diagnosed with cancer when Lizzie went to college and died a few years later. Abuelo had passed away about 8 years before.
Abuela felt responsible, as their only remaining guardian, to ensure they were taken care of before it was her time to leave them on this Earth. Maybe because of this, or maybe it was justthe product of her time, but she always insisted to Lizzie and Lidia that the number one goal for any young woman was to get married.
The area around the home had developed and grown; home prices had skyrocketed; Lizzie had gotten into business development, and Lidia was working on becoming a social media influencer—butAbuelahad remained constant and steadfast in this.
Lizzie knew she wouldn’t change her mind; there would be no sale big enough or achievement grand enough that would compare to seeing her advantageously married.
But as comfortable as Lizzie was with facts and figures, she was uncomfortable with men. She bore them no ill will, nor did she feel against the notion of marriage—she just knew she would only ever marry if she were deeply in love, and she doubted very much that she would ever feel that way. To date, she didn’t think she was ever even close to falling in love.
Her sister Lidia, by contrast, fell in love every full moon, it seemed. So Lizzie hoped that one of those relationships would lead to a marriage, and then maybeAbuelawould feel some peace in the matter.
The evening passed slowly. The AC wheezed like Abuela’s old Buick.
Not evenOrgullo y Dolores—the favoritenovelaof Abuela and Lizzie—could save her.
She agonized over the pitch and how it could’ve been better. She wondered about the charismatic Mr. Wick and what the ordeal must’ve been for him. Finally, around 10, she called it a night. She fell into a light, restless sleep that had her tossing and turning all night.
Lizzie wasn’t sure whether she was awake when her phone dinged, or if the ding woke her, but around 2:30 a.m.,she received a message that made her think maybe she was dreaming.
Subject: FWD: Pemberley — 2:03 a.m. voice memo
From: Will Pemberley
[?? 0:14]
“Delete after listening.
Your warehouse fix… isn’t garbage.
Miami DC. 6 a.m.
No slides. No Charles. No synergy.
Bring colada.
I take mine black—like my soul after your deck.
—W”
P.S. Don’t wear the pink blazer.
