Chapter Two
“Isabellaaaaa,” Maria shouts in a sing-songy voice as she parades herself around the store like it is her own personal runway. “Que tal, cuz?”
“Oh God,” I groan as I stare absentmindedly at the letter. “What do you want?”
“Is that how you speak to your favorite cousin? Honestly, I’m hurt.”
“Shut up.” I scoff, folding the letter and putting it away. I notice Maria eye it for a moment. She’s absolutely going to ask me about it later.Chismosa.
Maria is my favorite cousin, but I wouldn’t tell her that—it would go straight to her head. She occasionally works at the restaurant, bussing tables and handling phone orders, but she mostly just takes photos and posts them to our social media accounts. It’s the one thing I have allowed someone else to do for me, mostly because I seem to repel followers. I tried to create a TikTok once, and I’m pretty sure I got negative views because of how bad it was. Our accounts aren’t super successful, and she isn’t the best at marketing, but it’s the only thing we can afford right now. Hell, her services are free, and I can barely afford that.
Carlos walks up to the counter and hands over the invoice for me to sign. I look at the total, muffle a whimper, and sign the bottom. I hand it over for him to sign. Then, I rip off the top sheet and keep the yellow copy.
“See you at the end of the week? Check out the email I sent you for the new items we will add to the menu, including pumpkin. We must get these, okay? I’m training the cooks on how to make empanadas de calabaza.”
“Isabella, don’t you ever get a break?”
I’m taken aback by the sudden existential question.
Maria snorts. “Carlos, please.”
“Excuse me?” I ask.
“You’re always working, Isa. You practically run this store, and you don’t even own it. When are you going to find some time for yourself?”
I hear Faye giggle in the back as they put away the new inventory behind the old one. I glance behind me and see José’s smirk, which he wipes away when our gazes meet.
“Myself?” I scoff. “And do what?”
“See friends? Date? Get married? Live your life? Aren’t you almost thirty?”
“Twenty-five, actually. And date? I just went on a date yesterday!”
“Didn’t you say it was awful because she said the word ‘like’ too much?” Maria chimes in.
“Regardless, Idate.Sometimes. Once a year,” I continue. “Besides, I like my job—no, Ilovemy job. Why do I need to do anything else? Also, who will be here to warmly greet you and make sure you give us a discount on our next order because of the broken eggs?”
Carlos shakes his head, folds the copy of the sheet into his pocket, and heads out the door.
“See you later, Carlos,” I shout, and he noncommittally waves me away as he disappears from view.
“Isabella Valdes? Dating someone seriously? Could you even imagine?” Maria teases.
“I barely have time to shower and feed my cat before rushing here in the morning,” I say. “I don’t have the capacity in my schedule to be in a relationship.”
“Well, you could if you’d delegate some more tasks to me,” Faye suggests with an exaggerated grin plastered across their face. “Or José, of course.”
I glance over at José.El ratoncito, I call him, because that’s exactly how he acts. A quiet mouse scurrying around, avoiding any conflict with my mother or me. He side-eyes me once again, and I wink. His eyes widen, and his cheeks begin to flush. I can’t help but laugh.
“Faye, I want to. You know I do. I just—”
“I know, I know,” Faye puts their hands up in surrender. “One day.”
Even if I did have spare time, dating never goes well. I always get the same reviews: workaholic, perfectionist, and even materialistic.
Besides, dating is the least of my problems these days. My biggest problem is that I have been hiding a secret from everyone in the restaurant. Even my mother. It’s easy to do when I am the only one that looks at the monthly and yearly revenue reports. I am the one who deals with the accountant every tax season—the one who pays the bills and orders the food.
The restaurant is failing.
