“I’m going to slap you. Be serious.”
“I am being serious! People make a ton of money exploiting their little piggies. Maybe this is your calling. I always knew you’d be destined for greatness.”
“I fucking hate you. Just promise you won’t say anything to anyone.”
“You got it, Isa. Mum’s the word. Anyways, there is a reason I came in today besides showing off my beautiful face. I have chisme,” she says with a grin.
“You? Have gossip? What a surprise,” I retort. “You know, whenever you tell me your chisme, it makes me wonder why the hell I’d tell you my biggest secret.”
“That’s easy. Because you love me, and I’m amazing. It’s not that hard to understand. Plus, we have a pact, remember?”
She did a pinky promise, and that means something. Or it did when we were eight and she peed the bed, and I had to promise not to tell our other cousins so she wouldn’t appear lame. To this day, no one knows that she peed on the bed. No, they think it was me. SoInow have to live with that embarrassment every holiday when our families get together. But we promised, and I would never break that. I just have to hope she feels the same way. Still, it feels like a ticking bomb.
“This is good news, though. So you know our cousin Sofia?”
“Uh, maybe? We have, like, ninety cousins. I have no doubt I have a cousin named Sofia somewhere in New Jersey.”
“Wow, you’re really gonna play dumb? She’s Tía Rosita’s daughter. We used to play together when we were younger. You were obsessed with hanging out with her and her best friend. You had the joint quinceañera? Remember when Val—”
“Sh, sh,” I say, putting my hand to her mouth. “We don’t talk about that. What about her? Did she die?”
“Isa, no.” Maria gasps jokingly. “She’s getting married to some rich guy. Didn’t you get the invitation?”
“No idea what you’re talking about. Plus, I’m busy.” I groan and turn back to my phone to clear out my emails.
I did get the invitation. It sits on top of the stack of rent-increase notifications, overdue credit card bills, and student loan statements I’ve been avoiding.
“Okay, I know you did because she told me she sent them to us. Are you just going to ignore it?”
“What do you expect me to do? I have a restaurant to run, and you know my mother. Oh, is that a customer coming in?”
Maria turns around to see a tall man walking toward the door. Whenever we have a customer, I feel like we’re one step closer to getting out of the red for the month. Just as I genuinely believe he will step inside, he turns and heads down the strip to the dry cleaners.
“Whomp whomp,” Maria taunts. “Time to get the ‘closed for good’ sign ready.”
“Get out,” I say, turning around to refill the straw container and keep myself busy.
“Isabella, let me finish! This is important.”
I sigh loudly, turn around, and raise my eyebrows to signal her to continue with this boring tale of family members I don’t care about.
“Sofia is getting married to some guy who comes from a rich family. I mean, good for her, right? Go Sofia. Couldn’t be us, am I right?” She snorts.
“Maria!”
“Anyways, get this. Her husband is a restauranteur and investor.”
She pauses. I stare at her, waiting for her to continue, getting increasingly impatient. I can’t understand why she can’t ever get to the point in her stories.
“Annnd?” I say, exasperated at this point.
“Stupid, he’s an investor. You could go to her wedding, impress her fiancé with a snazzy business plan, maybe even cook him a few meals to try from El Libro Sagrado, and win an investment.”
“First, I can’t get into my father’s book. It’s locked. Second of all, why the hell would I do that?” I laugh, though the thought of my father and his letter sits heavily in the back of my mind, its mystery nagging at me even as I try to focus on Maria. What was in that letter? And why did he leave it for me now?
“To save the restaurant, pendeja,” she whispers.
“Maria, how exactly do you think this will save the restaurant?” I whisper back, realizing Faye is in the kitchen prepping some bread for the lunch rush, the only time of day we see an influx of customers in the store.
