“Is that who I think it is?”
Jason pulled open the passenger-side door. The woman looked at Mari and her whole face lit up. Even in her eighties, she was still beautiful. Her blue eyes twinkled and her red lipstick illuminated her lovely smile. She extended a dainty hand.
“You must be Mari. I’m Vera Stanek. But you may know me as Violet.”
Mari took Violet’s hand in hers. “It is such a pleasure to meet you. I can’t believe I’m meeting you in the flesh!”
Violet laughed. “I’m not the queen of England, dear. I’m a little old lady from Illinois. Help me up so I can give you a hug.”
Mari pulled Violet up from the passenger seat. She was so petite, and looked frail. But when Violet wrapped her arms around Mari, her hug was powerful. Mari closed her eyes and breathed in the floral scent of Violet’s perfume. When she pulled away, Violet’s eyes shone with tears. “You look like your grandfather.”
A lump rose in Mari’s throat. “I do?”
Violet stared at her. “You have his eyes. Ricky Cruz was a brave man. He saved my life many years ago. He’s the reason that I’m here today.”
Mari blinked back tears. “Thank you. He left your note in a safe deposit box at the bank. I only discovered it recently.”
Mari loved the papery feel of Violet’s warm hands as they clasped hers.
“My dear,” Violet said. “There is so much I want to tell you. But first, can we walk along the beach? I haven’t seen the Pacific Ocean in a very long time.”
MARI WATCHED VIOLET, standing in the sand, her eyes closed. She faced the ocean, the wind in her hair and the breeze on her face. Waves crashed against Cowell Beach, rushing toward Violet’s toes. When the cold water reached her ankles, she didn’t flinch. Instead, she smiled up at the sun, tears streaming down her face.
“She looks so happy,” Mari whispered.
Jason smiled. “She is.”
Violet stretched out her arms. “I’m ready now. Help me, please.”
Mari took Violet’s arm on one side, and Jason took the other. They supported her as they walked across the sand back to the stairs leading to the boardwalk. Violet breathed heavily after the slow climb, and Mari helped her onto a bench.
“Are you okay, Grandma?” Jason asked. “Let’s put your shoes back on.”
Violet patted his arm. “I’m all right, dear. Thank you.” As Jason bent down and helped Violet back into her loafers, she pointed at the roof of the arcade.
“Ricky’s zip line extended all the way from the top of that building down to the end of the pier. He dangled by one ankle and one wrist. Donny Pierson held him like that, and then they would both plunge into the ocean. It was wild.”
“I love that you got to see my abuelo perform.” Mari took a deep breath. “How did you know he would help you that night?”
Violet stared at the waves. “I didn’t know for sure. But your grandfather had already helped me once, when I left for Hollywood. I was frightened to drive because it was dark and foggy, but he told me I could do it.”
Mari’s heart ached, wishing she could hug Abuelo one last time. “That sounds like him. He was always encouraging me. I took a summer position at the Santa Cruz museum because I wanted to honor his memory.”
Violet clasped Mari’s hand. “I want to thank you, with all of my heart. I so desperately wanted to thank Ricky that night, but I didn’t get the chance.”
“You must’ve meant a lot to him.”
“He was always willing to help a friend in need. He had a heart of gold.” She looked toward the boardwalk. “This place brings back so many memories. I never thought I would see it again. Santa Cruz still feels like home.”
Mari looked at the gazebo and sighed, knowing it would be demolished soon. “There’s nowhere else like it.”
Violet pointed at the shops dotting the Beach Boardwalk. “My friend Evie and I used to get milkshakes from Marini’s. I loved the maraschino cherries. Is Marini’s still in operation?”
“It is,” Mari said. “Both the boardwalk location and another storefront on Pacific Avenue.” She looked at Jason for reassurance. “And Evie, your friend, she’s still alive.”
Violet brought her hand to her heart. “She is?”
Mari nodded. “She lives in a nursing home in San Jose.”
“You met her?”
“She helped me solve the mystery of how you escaped. She told me you’d sewn a dress suit for my grandpa to give to his mother.”
Violet smiled. “Oh heavens, I did say that, didn’t I?”
Mari laughed. “Knowing my great-grandmother worked on a strawberry farm in the Central Valley where she’d have no use for a suit, and that my father hadn’t seen her in years, I knew something was odd.”
“I was so frightened,” Violet said, her eyes distant, as if she were lost in thought. “I needed Evie to give Ricky the skirt and jacket for my plan to work. I didn’t know if she would. What did she tell you that helped you unravel the mystery?”
“That she left it at his post office box. I never knew he had one, but I had a brass key in an old trunk of his. I decided to try it at the post office downtown.”
“Is that where he left my note?”
“No. Inside was another key. It opened his safe deposit box at the bank. Your note was in there, along with a beautiful pair of diamond and sapphire earrings.”
“Oh,” Violet said, her face falling. “I had hoped he would use them to help himself. He didn’t sell them?”
Mari shook her head. “He never liked taking charity from people.”
“Let’s get going,” Jason said. “It’s getting cold. I don’t want you to get sick, Grandma. We should get back to the car.”
“All right,” Violet said, taking his hand. She nudged Mari. “Isn’t he a caring boy?”
Mari smiled. “Yes, I think so.”
Violet frowned. “Do you think it would give Evie a terrible fright if we visited her? I’m not sure it’s the right thing to do. To make her think she’s seen a ghost.”
Mari bit her lip. “I think we should. Evie has some regrets about not doing more to help you, when you were married to Charles.”
For a minute they walked in silence, the weight of the past heavy between them. Violet spoke first, her eyes sad. “It wasn’t her fault. I never confided in her.”
MARI GINGERLY TAPPED on the door to Evie’s room at her San Jose nursing home, Violet behind her, clutching Jason’s hand.
“Evelyn,” she called. “Can I come in? It’s Mari.”
Evelyn wore a yellow sweater and sat in a wheelchair facing the window. Mari’s heart sank. Perhaps she wasn’t feeling well today.
Mari spoke again. “I visited you once before. Your daughter, Karen, told me about you. We spoke about your beauty pageant days.”
Evelyn spun around in her chair, looking at Mari.
“Sorry, dear. I only heard half of what you said. I was watching a blue jay in the garden outside.”
Mari nodded. “Do you remember when I came to visit you? We spoke about Santa Cruz in the 1940s and your friend Violet.”
Evie wheeled herself closer to Mari. “Yes, I remember that, dear. It made me quite emotional. I still miss her, even after all these years.”
“Evie, I want you to take a deep breath. The truth is, I’ve brought Violet here to see you.”
Violet stepped into the room, her hands clasped in front of her heart.
Evie brought a trembling hand to her mouth. “Vi, is that you?”
Violet nodded, tears in her eyes. “Yes.”
“But it’s not possible!”
With Jason guiding her by the arm, Violet walked over to Evie, then placed a hand lovingly on her friend’s shoulder. “I’m so terribly sorry for what I put you through. I didn’t die that night. I escaped on a train north to San Francisco. I’ve thought about you so many times over the years.”
Evie stared at Violet for a long time. “You look like your mother. Did you know that? I�
��ll be damned. Is this really you?”
“It’s really me.”
“But everyone saw you jump—” Her voice broke. “That day in the supermarket, I ought to have said something.” She shook her head. “I saw how frightened you were and I let you go. I should have asked you if Charles was hurting you.”
Violet squeezed Evie’s shoulder. “Please don’t blame yourself. I didn’t have the guts to tell you about Charles. Do you remember the bag that I gave you that day?”
“Vaguely. What was it? Wait . . . a red ladies’ suit.”
Violet nodded. “You helped me escape. It was a skirt with a peplum jacket I’d sewn for Ricky Cruz to wear. He jumped off the cliff, pretending to be me.”
Evie stared up at Violet, wide-eyed. “But that’s bananas!”
Violet laughed. “It was bananas. I was desperate. I didn’t want Charles to hurt you, and I feared he would if I confided in you. But you executed my escape plan perfectly by bringing the garments to Ricky Cruz.”
“I left the bag at the post office.”
Mari cleared her throat. “And he got it. Because of you, Violet escaped.”
The old friends clasped hands, staring into each other’s eyes. Evie began to smile. “Well, I never. Here we are. For sixty years, I’ve believed you were dead, and now you’re standing here in front of me. I’m spooked!”
Violet’s eyes glistened. “Oh Evie. I longed to write to you. Did you have a good life? Did you and Frank have children?”
“Yes,” Evie said, smiling proudly. “We have a daughter and a son. We tried for more, but it wasn’t in God’s plan. Dear Frank passed away five years ago. He worked at his auto dealership until he was seventy-seven. He loved talking to customers.”
Violet laughed. “That sounds like Frank.”
Evie nodded at Jason. “Is this your grandson, Vi?”
“Yes. Isn’t he handsome?”
Jason extended his hand to Evie. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Mari smiled, looping her arm around Jason’s waist. “He’s my boyfriend.”
“Wonderful,” Evie said, clapping her hands together. “You make a lovely couple.” Then she beamed at Violet. “Do you remember when you taught me the secret to your egg salad recipe?”
“Mustard!” they said in unison. Then they burst into laughter.
“Do you remember what you told Mr. Warner at the pageant office?” Violet asked, gripping Evie’s hand.
“You mean about Uncle Frank?”
The two old women were laughing so hard they had tears in their eyes.
“Uncle Frank!”
Mari smiled, leaning against Jason. She breathed in the scent of his cologne, and loved the feel of his soft flannel shirt against her skin. Her cell phone jingled in her purse, and she reached in to retrieve it.
“Mari Cruz.”
The man cleared his throat. “Hello. This is Mayor Harcourt. I mean, Tom.”
“Oh,” Mari said, her shoulders tensing. “Hi.”
“Listen. I got your phone number from your supervisor at the museum. I hope you don’t mind.”
Mari patted Jason’s arm, mouthing that she’d be in the hallway. Once she stepped outside, she held the phone close to her ear. “No, it’s fine. What’s going on?”
The mayor’s voice was soft. “I’ve done a lot of thinking these past few days.” He didn’t sound like the mayor at all, but like someone trying to make amends. “I wanted you to know that I read every one of your emails.”
“Okay?”
He cleared his throat. “Do you have time to meet me this week? It doesn’t have to be at my office. I can get you a coffee at Peet’s. Unless, of course, you prefer Starbucks.”
Did the mayor just offer to buy her a coffee?
“Sure,” Mari said.
“Great,” Mayor Harcourt replied. “I would really love to talk to you in person.”
Chapter 32
Marisol Cruz
Welcome, everyone, to our Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk holiday celebration!” Mayor Harcourt’s voice projected from the same stage where he’d stood six months earlier—only this time his feet stirred up a dusting of fake snow. Sprigs of holly and redwood decorated the Ferris wheel and the sky glider chairs overhead, lending their woodsy scent to the sea air. More than the scenery had changed since the summer, when Mayor Harcourt had announced his son’s construction project.
Mari sipped her hot apple cider, and Jason wrapped his arm around her shoulders, hugging her tight. He looked so handsome in his beanie and heavy flannel. No matter the season, she could kiss him all night long.
“Thank you all, who’ve gathered here on this foggy and chilly evening. I think it’s fair to assume you’re all locals.”
The crowd laughed, and Mari chuckled too. The boardwalk had been transformed with sparkling fairy lights and a Christmas tree decorated with beach balls.
Jason rolled his eyes. “You Californians think sixty degrees is cold? You’d never survive a Chicago winter.”
“Shhh,” Mari said, tugging his arm. “Tom is still speaking.”
It was weird how easily his name rolled off her tongue. The day they’d met for coffee, Tom had looked at her with sincerity in his eyes, and told her that reading her emails had broken his heart. He was pulling the funding for Travis’s project.
Travis Harcourt hadn’t raised the money himself—he was not the successful businessman he pretended to be. Every cent for the project came from his private trust fund, controlled by his father. But Tom Harcourt had decided there were two people more deserving of that money . . . Mari and Lily.
“Tonight,” Tom said, smiling at Mari, “I’m proud to unveil the newly restored gazebo. Thanks to the tireless work of our young historian, Marisol Cruz, the gazebo will be preserved as a historic monument, honoring Santa Cruz’s rich Chicano and Latino cultural heritage.”
The crowd clapped, and Mari smiled, tears in her eyes. The gazebo had been reinforced with new wooden beams, all of the Victorian gingerbread details salvaged. With a fresh coat of paint, globe lights strung from the rafters, and a colorful mural depicting members of the Latino community, the gazebo welcomed visitors.
It was an exact replica of the diorama Mari’s artists had created—only this time, it was life-size. Violet had agreed to record her story, and for the remainder of the Beach Boardwalk Centennial Celebration, the art installation had been on display at the museum booth, drawing curious visitors. With increased local interest in the gazebo from both the diorama and Violet’s story of Ricky Cruz, ultimately it was saved from demolition.
Now the diorama and Violet’s recording had become a permanent installation at the Santa Cruz Museum of Art & History, along with a plaque on the wall: Mari Cruz, 2007 Swanson Grant recipient. But it was Violet’s words, honoring Ricardo Cruz, that brought tears to Mari’s eyes. In her story, Abuelo was the hero, and the gazebo an important part of the boardwalk he loved.
“I’m so proud of you,” Jason whispered, sending a shiver down Mari’s neck. He kissed her flushed cheek.
Mayor Harcourt smiled. “And now, for the ribbon cutting!”
Mari handed Jason her cider and walked past the gathered members of the community to the stage, where Tom presented her with a large pair of ceremonial scissors.
Her mouth felt dry looking out at the sea of faces. She’d never been a fan of speaking to crowds, but she recognized many of the neighbors who’d attended the city council meeting. Mari felt elated to share this accomplishment with them.
She cleared her throat.
“Thank you all for coming out tonight to celebrate the unveiling of the gazebo. As the saying goes, it takes a village. I could not have accomplished this without your support. My grandparents danced here underneath the stars over sixty years ago. And tonight, we’ll do the same. Happy holidays!”
Mari snipped the red ribbon and the crowd erupted into applause. She thought of her abuelo smiling down on her and wiped a tear from her eye. The swing band b
egan to play “In the Mood” and Mari couldn’t help swaying her hips to the rhythm. It was impossible to feel sad listening to such an upbeat song.
Lily skipped toward Mari, followed by Mari’s parents, and she wrapped her arms around Mari’s waist. “I love you, Mama.”
Mari’s heart filled to the brim. “I love you too, sweetie.”
Lily turned to the mayor. “Will you dance with me?”
“Of course,” he said, taking Lily’s hand and spinning her around. Though Mari and Tom had agreed not to tell her that he was her biological grandfather until she was older, Lily had come to know him as a friend. For every occasion where Travis wasn’t present, Mayor Harcourt showed up in spades. Over the past few months he had attended each of Lily’s dance recitals and every kindergarten play, clapping enthusiastically.
Mari frowned, thinking of how Tom’s relationship with his son had become strained in the wake of what he’d learned about Travis. But as Tom put it, Travis needed to learn to stand on his own two feet. Travis had taken a job at a tech company in San Francisco. Tom was no longer paying his rent.
“Dance with me?”
Mari turned around to see Jason, who took her by the hand.
“Of course,” Mari replied, laughing as he dipped her. They danced to the brass band, skipping and shuffling, swaying their hips to the music.
“My turn!” Lily cried, grabbing Jason by the hand.
Mari smiled, watching them dance together, her heart swelling with happiness. Over the past months, Jason had become a father figure to Lily. He helped her with school projects, drove her to dance practice and read her stories every night. Sometimes they fell asleep together on the couch, heads touching. It was strange to think that they were related—Jason’s grandfather being Lily’s great-grandfather. But Charles Harcourt’s cruelty had gone to the grave. In this family, there was only love.
The band played on, swing and mariachi and salsa. Mari found herself laughing and spinning around the dance floor with different partners. Her mom and dad had some serious moves. In fact, they were getting a little too cozy, Paulina giggling as Ernesto whispered something in her ear, cupping her butt with one hand.
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