“You’re up and about early, Kaye. I thought you and the girls weren’t going to Connie’s until ten.”
“Good morning, Sofia. Sorry to bother you on such a busy day, but I need to speak with your son.” I shoved my hands into my pockets to hide their trembling. I needed answers now—forget the one-question rule.
Sofia’s face fell as she studied my demeanor. “He and Caroline are on their morning jog. After that, I have them scooting to Denver to meet family at the airport. But you can come inside, have a cup of coffee and a bagel.”
Jogging together? Samuel and Caroline must have worked out their “issues.” Cringing, I followed her up the back stairs, knowing I wouldn’t be able to eat anything. She shucked her gardening gear and washed her hands in the sun room. I slipped off my flip-flops.
Alonso sat at the kitchen island in his flannel PJ bottoms, slippers, and robe, the back of his bed hair standing up in a cowlick. A newspaper was in his hands, his eyes scanning headlines. When he saw me, he jumped up from his paper.
“Kaye, what a nice surprise.” He dished up a bagel and mug of steaming coffee, then gestured for me to sit. So polite, just like his son. “Are you here for Danita?”
“Can’t I just visit my second-favorite mom and dad?” I glanced around the kitchen bathed in soft gray light, gauzy curtains fluttering over an open window. Gershwin quietly tinkled from Sofia’s morning playlist. I loved this kitchen. It had brought me such peace, especially when I’d spent nights with Danita after fighting with my mother. Sofia was always there with hot chocolate and hugs, encouraging me to give it another go with my mom. Samuel was there, too. And Danita, once she stumbled out of bed, her black hair pulled into a skewed ponytail on top of her head. Even Alonso joined us on the mornings he wasn’t swamped with deadlines for Latin Colorado magazine. My ideal family.
But this morning the kitchen didn’t bring me peace. It felt off, knowing what I did about Samuel’s arrest in North Carolina. Because I understood, now, that Sofia had misled me.
“Sofia, I didn’t come here just to speak with Samuel. Do you mind if we chat?” My eyes shifted to Alonso, indicating I wanted to keep this private. She caught my drift. Nodding to the hallway, we left the kitchen for the library.
The first thing I noticed when I entered the hallway was the Rivera Girl with Lilies print above the mahogany hall table was gone. In its place were two newly-hung portraits: one of Danita and Angel, and one of Samuel. Each was an exquisitely-done, antiqued sketch. I wasn’t an artist, but the unfinished appearance reminded me of DaVinci’s intricate, feathery etchings. Around the cream-colored matting of each picture was a quote done in flawless calligraphy. I tilted my head, reading the Spanish around Danita’s and Angel’s:
“The first symptom of love in a young man is shyness;
the first symptom in a woman? It’s boldness.”
Victor Hugo—I knew it before I’d even finished the quote. Tomorrow’s date followed the quote, commemorating their wedding. I smiled.
I studied the portrait of Samuel next. The artist had captured him perfectly. Not just the strong angles of his face, but subtle nuances like the barely-there scar above his eyebrow and the sensitivity of his mouth. Around the matting was one of his favorite quotes—he used to scroll it across his laptop screensaver years ago.
“A writer is not a great mind, he’s not a great thinker,
he’s not a great philosopher. He’s a storyteller.”
Erskine Caldwell, that was it. A modestly successful Southern writer, in his time. Certainly controversial.
Sofia came up next to me, her fingers skimming over the gilded frame. “It’s beautiful work, isn’t it? She’s captured them all so well.” She sighed. “It’s too much, really, for a thank you gift.”
I frowned. “Who?”
“Caroline. She gave them to us in appreciation for welcoming her into our home the past month. I had no idea…”
“Wait. Caroline commissioned these?”
“No, Kaye. Caroline is the artist.” Sofia tapped the corner of one of the portraits, indicating the signature. “I can’t begin to imagine having this kind of talent. But I’ve always said the same thing about you and Samuel, too.”
I studied the initials closely…CRO. So Caroline was a brilliant artist, as well as a successful agent, editor, publicist, journalist, equestrian, cheerleader, socialite, jogger, and frickin’ beauty queen. Jealousy burned deep. I grudgingly admitted I should appreciate the tremendous talent that lay behind the portraits, but I didn’t stand a chance in hell.
Sofia continued on to the library and I followed, escaping to the safe-haven walls of beautifully bound books. She gestured to one of the overstuffed chairs by the fireplace and settled into the other, opposite me.
“What is on your mind, mi corazón?”
I took a deep breath to calm my jealous stirrings. “Do you remember when you were in New York, how we called each other weekly to catch up? We’d talk about how I was coping, the good things that happened, the books you’d read…all of that?”
She nodded.
“Okay, so you probably remember the night I called just a couple of weeks after the divorce. You were upset because Samuel had been arrested for drug possession.”
Sofia shifted uncomfortably, but again nodded.
“Here’s the thing.” I drummed my fingers on my armrest, trying to phrase my thoughts without sounding accusatory. “I told you I was going to fly out to New York to be with you and Alonso. That I could leave Denver in two hours and be at JFK by midnight.”
“I remember.”
“Why didn’t you correct me, Sofia?”
Honest confusion blanketed her features. “What do you mean?”
“Samuel was arrested in North Carolina, not New York. I know it seems like a minor thing, but…what was he doing in North Carolina to begin with? I think you know and you didn’t tell me for a reason.”
Understanding dawned. “How do you know about that?” It was my turn to squirm. I couldn’t exactly tell Samuel’s mother I had a dirt file on him. “You’ve been speaking with Samuel. I know, he’s told me. He’s explained his reasons for leaving Colorado?”
“Yes.”
Sofia studied my face and saw my fears, plain as day. She leaned forward and placed her brown hand on my knee. “Kaye, Samuel wasn’t involved with Caroline in the way you’re thinking. She was a friend of a friend who eventually became his editor. That was it.”
“Please explain, Sofia.”
Her expression became pained, far-away. “You have to understand—he’d made progress in New York before the divorce. He had his little setbacks, but he was able to fight through them. So brave. My son wanted to get himself together so he could repair the damage he’d done with you. He was racing against time, avoiding Jaime Guzman’s requests until he could see you and sort through the mess. But then he had a major setback and it ‘changed the game’ for him, so to speak. All of his hard work…he threw it away, just like that.”
Poor Samuel. A lump formed in my throat for the umpteenth time this tumultuous week. “What happened?”
She shrugged, giving me an apologetic half-smile.
“Fine,” I conceded, “I’ll ask Samuel. Please continue.”
“He agreed to the divorce, believing he could never overcome his problems. When he returned from Colorado after signing the divorce papers, he planned to journey across Mexico and write, no phone, little money.”
“You mean he was just going to disappear?”
Sofia’s eyes welled with unshed tears. “Sí, more or less. ‘Donde hay amor, hay dolor,’ and there was so much hurt in my son, Kaye. Please don’t think it was all because of the divorce. His burdens were too heavy, and he believed if he extricated himself from his current life, it would make those troubles go away. Alonso and I couldn’t tell him otherwise. But Caroline—she didn’t coddle him. She said his book was nowhere near the shape it should be in for publication, and threatened him with a lawsuit if
he reneged on his contract. He was too tired to fight back. So they agreed to a compromise. She took him to Raleigh. They could work on his book and he could get the change of scenery he desperately needed.”
“But he still kept up the drug use.”
“Like I said, he’d thrown in the towel. The police picked him up for public intoxication and noticed his erratic behavior, so they searched his messenger bag…”
“And found his stash of goodies.”
“Cocaine powder as well as diluted cocaine in vials, another step further into his…experimentations. But the arrest was a blessing in disguise. I don’t know if you are aware, but Caroline comes from money—old money, from the vineyards of Spanish California. She contacted one of her father’s golf friends, who happened to be the best defense lawyer in North Carolina. They bailed him out of jail, gave Samuel a good shake, and managed to avoid jail time. On the condition, of course, he’d go to full rehab—not just the therapy sessions in New York.”
So now I could add “savior” to Caroline’s list of accomplishments. No wonder Samuel was so loyal to her. Crud, I didn’t want to like her.
“What about NYU?”
“He dropped out, then later returned once he was able to focus on his studies again. It was a tough road, but he finished that degree.”
“Sofia…he could have died.” A shudder ran up my back as I spoke the unreal words, the reality of them hitting me. Gone. Samuel could have died somewhere in Mexico in an overdose, or a car crash, or, heaven forbid, a kidnapping, and I hadn’t even comprehended the possibility was there, lurking. At twenty-one, who really believes they will lose the one they love until reality comes knocking? A tremor of the same fear I’d felt in New York gripped me again, and I wanted nothing more than to put my arms around Samuel and assure myself that he was alive.
“I’m so sorry, Kaye.”
I bit my lip, feeling awful for having missed so much. My irritation turned to Sofia. “Why didn’t you or Alonso tell me about this? Didn’t you think I deserved to know? Was I not good enough, not trustworthy?”
“Kaye, you and Samuel were divorced,” she said gently. “You had your own life to live. You were in bad shape too, dear heart, even if you put on a brave face. We knew how it would look to you—Samuel running off to Raleigh with some woman, right after your divorce. It would have crushed your already fragile self-esteem, even if we’d explained.”
“But what if…what if the divorce was a mistake to begin with? Didn’t that cross your mind?”
“I wonder every day, mi corazón. But then, forcing two young people to listen to their mother is like forcing the tide to turn. It must happen naturally, on their own terms.”
I pressed my fingertips to my temples, knowing deep down that she was right. I hadn’t been in good shape, then, hadn’t listened. But something still gnawed at me. It had to do with the fact that my warm, perfect Cabrals had hidden things from me. They claimed it was for my own good, but how could keeping secrets like these possibly help? Unless—and I couldn’t even think it—Alonso and Sofia wanted to put distance between me and their family. Because of the divorce? Because I wasn’t Hispanic? Perhaps that was why Danita was so blunt—she overcompensated for her family’s secretive tendencies.
Another thought hit me: if Dani was my friend, why hadn’t she told me about Samuel’s North Carolina arrest?
“Sofia, did Danita know what was going on?”
“At the time she didn’t, no.”
“But she knows now?”
“Our family has discussed it recently. Despite my daughter’s often brusque attitude, she really loves you, Kaye, and is very devoted to you. But sometimes she strong-arms you into doing her bidding, so to speak. And she has her own way of clearing the air, which often brings about more trouble than solutions.”
“So you thought Danita would use me to try to fix Samuel’s drug problems, if she knew.”
“It was wrong of us to keep her—both of you—in the dark for so long. But we learn as we go. Parents make mistakes too, Kaye, so many. No one is truly an expert, but our hearts are usually in the right place.” Guilt crept into her face. Even if they weren’t blood-related, Samuel had certainly adopted many of Sofia’s expressions. Sometimes it hurt to see him in her—and this was one of those times. My compassionate side urged me to go to Sofia and hug her. But I refrained, not able to forgive so easily. Samuel was more than just an ex-husband to me, and she knew it. And Danita…she must have been incredibly hurt.
In true kismet timing, there was a rap at the door and Samuel poked his head around. His hair and limbs were damp with sweat, as was the dark blue T-shirt clinging to his torso. He looked more rested today—bright-eyed and energetic, though the circles beneath his eyes were still there.
“I thought that was your Jeep in the driveway. There are so many people here and it’s only seven thirty.” His eyes darted to his mother, then back to me. “Ay, lo siento—I’m interrupting.” He began to close the door, but I hopped up from my chair to stop him.
“Samuel.” Despite his stinky, sweaty state, I threw my arms around his neck and pulled him to me tightly, terrified to let him go. Samuel jerked as if he’d touched a live wire, but wrapped his arms around me, lifting me from the ground. He pulled back to search my face.
“Firecracker, what’s wrong?”
“I’m just glad you’re okay,” I mumbled into his neck.
His brow knit as he gazed over my shoulder at his mother. “Why wouldn’t I be okay?”
I shook my head, suddenly feeling foolish. “It’s nothing. I’m just all over the place emotionally, with Danita getting married.”
“Are you sure?” He ran fingers up and down my spine, comforting me as if I were ready to crack.
I nodded and awkwardly pulled away from his arms. I didn’t miss the hopeful gleam in the eyes of my former mother-in-law as she watched her son and me.
“Well then, I have a favor to ask of you.” Samuel linked his index finger with mine and swung our arms back and forth, studying me more closely. “Actually, never mind. You look like you’re ready to drop from exhaustion. Trouble sleeping?”
I shrugged off his concern. “Just tell me what you want, please, Samuel.”
“Aunt Lucia and Uncle Carlos fly in this afternoon. Would you like to pick them up at the Denver airport with me? I’m sure Aunt Lucia would love to see you again.”
Lucia was Sofia’s older sister from Southern California, and I’d always liked her. “With you and Caroline?”
“Caroline would prefer to stay here. But I’d enjoy your company—as much as you’ll allow before I have to return to New York.” He leaned in, whispering, “You’d probably be able to sneak in a nap on the drive, too.”
It was my turn to refuse Samuel in payback for ditching on the ghost hunting show. But payback didn’t seem so important, and I was sad to tell him no.
“Sorry, Mr. Cabral, unless you want to take my place with the other bridesmaids for manis and pedis later this morning. I’ve seen guys there before. Really.”
Samuel playfully grimaced. “That’s okay. You’ll see the family tonight.” He started to lean in for a hug, but changed his mind. He quickly kissed my temple and released my finger. “Be good, and no crazy hair changes before wedding pictures. I don’t want to scrape you off the bottom of Danita’s shoes.” Kissing his mother’s cheek, he ducked out of the room.
It was time for me to be off, too, if I was going to shower and put out a few TrilbyJones fires before ten. But Sofia grabbed my elbow as I tried to leave.
“Kaye?” Her voice wavered. “That cookie-cutter dream…ideal spouse, beautiful kids, successful business, SUV packed with baseball gear, fireworks on the Fourth of July…Don’t let it trip up the two of you, sí? As parents, our dream is to leave a legacy for our children that is even greater than the legacy left to us. But sometimes we forget, there are lots of different kinds of happiness. The dream that works for some doesn’t work for others.”
/> “Sofia, I can barely keep myself together right now, let alone a car packed with little leaguers. I know what makes me happy, don’t worry.”
“Does Samuel know what makes you happy?” she asked softly. “Or for that matter, do you know what makes him happy?”
Warning bells sounded in my head. “What does this have to do with anything?”
“It’s everything. And if you were honest with yourself, you’d know that.”
Are you happy? Three little words, written by Samuel in the cover of a book. Oh, but what a book they’d opened. I backed out of the room, unwilling to have this discussion with Samuel’s mother.
“I appreciate your candidness, more than you know. But I should say hello to Danita before I head out.” Never mind. I’d see her in two hours at Connie’s Nail Salon.
Sofia sighed. “Wedding rehearsal, six o’clock, mi corazón.”
Dun…dun dun Dun…dun dun Dun…dun dun Dun…
I started awake, the sharp scent of nail polish remover and patchouli tingling my nostrils. Arena rock wailed from my purse and echoed through the salon. Crap, my cell phone. I looked helplessly at my purse as the fresh polish on my fingers and toes dried under the salon’s blue-light.
Molly, still waiting for her turn along with Angel’s little sister, dove for my purse and dug out my phone.
“Hello? Hi, Hector!…Um, she’s got wet fingernails right now. Hold on.” She held the phone next to my ear and lifted an eyebrow.
“Hey, Hector, what’s up?”
“Hola, just want to double-check on the gig tonight. Pick you up at five thirty at the Cabrals’ house, casual dress?”
“Yes. Don’t forget, the rehearsal dinner is on your folks’ property near the crick, where we used to play? So when I say casual dress, I really mean casual dress.” Because of the high number of out-of-town guests, there was no place in Lyons to accommodate the rehearsal dinner. Instead, the Valdez family opted for backyard zacahuiles—huge tamales cooked underground in a clay pot. Mariachi and local brews would flow aplenty, tonight. The Valdez clan knew how to throw a party.
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