Realization of what this meant dawned on Lizzie. She didn’t think that a visit from Publishers Clearing House with a giant check could bring her as much happiness as this did. She had to grasp the door as her knees went weak. The world was tilting.
Lizzie turned into the house and yelled, “Abuela, Café!” And then turned back to Magda, and her voice cracked as she said, “Come in?”
Lizzie led Magda into the kitchen. Abuela shuffled in, housecoat-clad, and once introduced to the lawyer, instantly switched to hostess mode, preparing coffee and pulling out tins of cookies, pastries, and whatever else she could find to offer their guests.
Lidia wandered in, locked into her phone. “Guys, should I do a ‘life update’ video or—” finally looking up, Lidia stopped mid-sentence. “Who’s this?”
Magda introduced herself, and now all three women were locked in as she pulled out document after document, explaining what they’d uncovered and what they’d put in place.
Now she was summarizing the outcome for them. “Every copy of every image: gone. His offshore accounts: frozen. His phone and laptops: currently in a landfill outside Medley. He signed the NDA with a trembling hand at 3:14 a.m. yesterday.” Abuela punctuates each item with “¡Bendito!” At the end, she leaned back, clapped her hands together, and said “¡Se jodió!”
Lidia whispered, “This is the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me.”
“To put it plainly,” Magda said. “If he so much as mentions any of your names, we will know about it, and he will lose the very little freedom he has left.”
Lizzie leaned back in her seat, blowing out a breath she felt like she’d been holding for days, maybe even weeks.
Lizzie couldn’t understand how this was happening. “But Magda, how? Why are you doing this?”
Magda reached out and gave her hand a comforting squeeze. “I can’t divulge my client’s information, but I can assure you that everything has been taken care of. My client shares your concerns regarding Mr. Wick and was happy to have the assets to make sure an injustice was corrected.”
Will, Lizzie knew instantly. It must be him. “How will I ever repay him?” She asked herself more than anyone else.
“My client has, however, asked me to deliver this personally.” She pulled an envelope from her pocket and slid it over to Lizzie. Lizzie opened a small paper with a single line in Will’s handwriting, as if he had read her mind:“You’ll never owe me anything. —W”Lizzie’s eyes fill instantly.
Lidia squinted at the note over Lizzie’s shoulder. “W? Who’s W?”
Lizzie tucked it into her pocket like it might burn her fingers.
“No one,” she lied.
“Then why would you owe them anything?”
“Because he just saved us in more ways than you can possibly imagine. And he did it expecting nothing in return!” Lizzie started getting worked up, but seeing her wide-eyed look, decided it was futile to try to explain it to her sister. How could she explain that she didn’t want to be in the situation where the man she wanted more than anything just had to put out the trash fire that was her life, instead of asking her out again?
Lidia rolled her eyes. Abuela chimed in. “Lizzie, stop being such a martyr. And Lidia, no more taking pictures of yourchocha!”
“Oh my god!” Lidia exclaimed and walked off.
“Well, with that advice, I believe my work here is done.” Magda began packing up her documents. “The important thing was for you to know that you are covered. You can rest easy and enjoy your holidays. No more worry.”
Lizzie thanked her a half dozen more times by the time she left the house. She felt light and free and happy for the first time since that Black Friday.
“Ya ves?” Abuela said. (You see?)
Lizzie’s joy felt like it was spilling out at the seams. “Is it too late to plan a bigNoche Buena? ¿Invita ala familia?¿Caja China? Music? The whole shebang?”
Abuela waved a hand as if saying, “Piece of cake,” and pulled out her phone to start making calls. Lizzie looked at her calendar. Two days until Christmas Eve. She prepared herself to face the shops this close to Christmas; it’d be a madhouse for sure, but the smile never left her face.
She’d been saved from the ruin that faced them.
If she wanted to, she could fly.
And for the first time in weeks, she believed she actually might
Chapter 19- Noche Buena
Christmas was fantastic, of course, but for Cubans it was all about Christmas Eve, orNoche Buena, as they called it. It was an all-day event; family filtered in and out while a whole pig, orlechón, roasted all day in a makeshift outdoor oven.
