We rinse the rice together, Valentina nudging me with her elbow as I swirl it under the water. “You sure you know what you’re doing? Don’t want to mess up this sacred recipe.”
I smirk at her. “I’m a professional, remember? I run an actual restaurant, Garcia. I think I can handle a pot of rice.”
As the rice cooks, we take turns stirring it to make sure it doesn’t scorch. Valentina leans over me, her shoulder brushing mine. “The trick is to stir just enough, but not too much,” she murmurs.
Her proximity makes my pulse quicken, and I glance at her. “You don’t think I know that?” I ask, keeping my tone light.
She grins, her eyes glinting with amusement. “Just checking. Don’t want to lose the big investment.”
“Please,” I retort, rolling my eyes but smiling. “I’ve been making arroz con leche since before I could reach the stove.”
“Guess I’ll let you take the lead then,” she replies, stepping back with a playful shrug.
We add the three milks one at a time, stirring constantly until the mixture thickens. Valentina hands me a spoon to taste it. “Well?” she asks, watching me closely.
I take a bite, letting the creamy, cinnamon-infused flavors melt on my tongue. “It’s perfect.”
Her lips curl into a small smile. “Told you we’d make a good team.”
I roll my eyes but feel a warmth spreading through me that has nothing to do with the stove. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t let it go to your head.”
As we spoon the pudding into ramekins and top each with a sprinkle of cinnamon and orange zest, Valentina glances at me. “You know, I think your dad would be proud.”
I look at her, struck by the sincerity in her voice. “Thanks, Val. That means a lot.”
She shrugs, but her gaze lingers. “Don’t mention it. You can head out to mingle with everyone. I just need to clean up a few things here.”
I turn around to see that the staff has already left. I didn’t even hear them. We must have been so caught up in our own work that they sneaked right by.
I rush to remove my apron and grab my things. I take a look at my dress in the reflection of the cooler. Could anyone tell that it’s cheap? I wish I knew more about fabric. Maria said it was fine, but who knows with her. This is the first night, and I should have dressed to impress with one of the dresses I borrowed from her.
As I’m about to leave, I pause for a moment.Don’t do it, Isa.Leaving Valentina to clean up our mess at the last minute would mean she’d be late for dinner, and I need her there to help me sleuth. I groan loudly and head back into the kitchen, throwing my stuff onto the counter. I remove my shawl, collect all the dishes, and put them near the sink, where she’s already begun to wash them.
“What are you doing?” She looks at me, bemused.
“I’m helping you clean your dishes,” I reply. “I’m surprised your staff didn’t wash them. They did all the rest of them.”
“I always tell them to leave mine. I never want them to feel like I’m taking advantage of them. You don’t have to help me, Isa.”
“Yeah, I know. But then you’ll be late, and I need you.”
“You need me, huh?” Valentina jokes. “I like being late. That means I’ll miss most of the event and can just go back to the cabin and sleep while I dread tomorrow’s stupid hike I couldn’t get out of.”
“Well, I need you to help me figure out who the rice pudding is for. And, more importantly, I need to refresh my memory on family members so I can keep tabs on everyone. I have to solve this mystery,” I say, my voice more serious now. “This journal—it’s not just recipes. There’s something buried in here that could change everything. I need to figure it out.”
I pause, glancing at Valentina. “And of course, I also need to secure that investment. That’s the only way I can save… I mean grow the restaurant. So yeah, I’m juggling both,” I add with a hint of sarcasm. “Plus, you could, I don’t know, figure out new ways to ruin their wedding. And I’m actually happy to go on the hike tomorrow.”
Valentina stays quiet for a moment, pondering my words.
“Why are you helping me right now?”
Honestly, I’m not entirely sure why I am. It’s not as if I did this to her. She’s the one who has poor time management. Plus, she’s practically forcing me to help her destroy my cousin’s wedding. And after her rude comment about not falling in love with her, I should want to see her suffer. But for some reason, I just want to be here. Maybe it’s our history. Perhaps it’s the smell of vanilla in her hair.
“You helped me with the rice pudding. Just say thanks.”
“Oh. Right. Thank you. Seriously. This is nice of you. Even after I ruined your dress when we were younger. I’m seriously sorry about that. I promise I didn’t mean to.”
I freeze for a moment, caught off guard by the sudden apology. This is something I’ve been holding on to for so long, and now that she’s finally bringing it up, it feels too quick, too easy. I let the words hang in the air for a second longer than I should. “I know,” I say slowly, feeling my words come out a little too stiff. “I forgive you…for that.”
