“Why couldn’t he tell us himself?”
“I don’t know,” I say softly. “Fear, mostly. My mother was a good manipulator; you know how obsessed she is with her image. I also doubt Rosita would have said anything to prevent unnecessary public drama that could affect her work. But there is one thing I absolutely do know. He loved both of us. He loved all of us. And he would want us to be sisters, to be there for each other.”
Sofia doesn’t say anything for a long moment, and I fear that I have made things worse. But then, to my surprise, Sofia opens the door a little wider and invites me inside.
The inside of the cabin is even more breathtaking. The walls are draped with sheer curtains, the delicate fabric catching the breeze through the open window and billowing like waves. I see touches of Sofia’s vibrant personality everywhere, from the bright flowers that adorn the tables to the playful fairy lights that dangle from the ceiling.
My eyes are drawn to the magnificent display of flowers adorning the room. It is as if a magical garden has sprouted up inside the cabin, with blooms of every shape and shade of white bursting forth in a riot of beauty. I can smell the sweet scent of roses and lilies mingling with the heady aroma of fresh pine, which reminds me of the forest around the campsite.
Every detail has been carefully planned and executed, down to the smallest detail. As I look around, I’m in complete awe. I can’t help but feel a twinge of envy at the thought of Sofia’s wedding tomorrow and the magical celebration that awaits her.
Sofia sits on the bed, looking shocked and confused, as if she’s still digesting the news. I sit down next to her.
“Where’s Luciano?”
“He’s out by the lake having drinks with the groomsmen. The last night, ya know.”
“I see,” I say, looking around the room.
Sofia sighs.
“So what now?”
“Do you want me to show you the puzzle pieces in his journal? It might help,” I suggest.
She doesn’t say anything but nods her head slowly. I pull out the journal and put it in between our laps.
“The first clue Valentina and I found was this recipe. It’s for rice pudding, and he noted it was ‘her favorite.’ We weren’t sure who he was talking about, because my mother hates rice pudding.”
“Is that why you and Valentina made rice pudding the first night?”
“Exactly,” I smile. “But Maritza, Rosita, Abuelita, and you all said it was your favorite. Now we had suspects.”
I go through each clue with Sofia, explaining the details Valentina and I discovered and the ones I found on my own—and, finally, the last one.
“I can’t believe you both did this all week. Now I know why I could never find you two.” She laughs.
“There is one more clue. The one that helped solidify all my doubts. The one that answers the big question.”
I reach into my pocket and pull out the ripped photograph of Roberto and me.
“You see the back? It says ‘two daughters,’ but part of it is ripped off. I’m unsure what happened to the other side, but I think you were in it.”
Sofia gasps. “Oh my God.”
I watch as she gets up and walks over to her dresser. She pulls out a blue velvet storage box and slowly opens it.
“Look at this.” She walks back over and sits down, holding a ripped photograph.
It’s of her as a baby. There’s an arm on the left side and Rosita is on the right. I hold up my photograph and place it against hers—a perfect match.
“Holy crap,” I say.
“We’re sisters, Isa!”
“I can’t believe we figured out the big secret.”
“Wait.” Sofia pauses. “What about the night of the quinceañera? What was the big fight about? Did you figure it out?”
