How Tia Lola Ended Up Starting Over

by Julia Alvarez

  The coach intervenes. “Let me get this straight. None of you put Vaseline all over the gear in our bags?”

  “No one here would do such a thing,” the colonel declares indignantly. “And I can vouch that no one came into this house except those present and their parents, so help me God. And I have proudly worn the uniform of the United States Army for longer than any of you have been around.”

  Tía Lola has been listening keenly to the conversation. Just now when the colonel vouched that no one had come into the house except those present and Víctor and Linda, he was forgetting one other person. The cleaning girl with the same last name as someone who seems to be bent on destroying the reputation of Tía Lola’s B&B. But one thing Tía Lola loves about her new country is how everyone is innocent until proven guilty. She will not blame anyone until she has some evidence. But from now on, she will keep her eyes wide open.

  “I’ve been, like, a total jerk, and I’m sorry.” Cohen is apologizing? “And you know what bugged me most of all? I just couldn’t get my head around how an awesome girl like you would, like, do such a crappy thing.”

  “Language,” the coach barks. “You’re talking to a lady.”

  A lady, an awesome girl. Oh my goodness! Victoria feels a thrilling rush. If she were to go back to that candle stub, this moment is all she would wish for.

  By evening, the team has left with many thanks to Tía Lola and her hardworking crew. Even though the mystery of the Vaseline prank is still unsolved, the coach assures Tía Lola that he’ll be recommending her B&B to all his colleagues and friends.

  The house is quiet again. Victoria and her sisters strip the beds and clean up the guest rooms with help from Juanita and Tía Lola and Miguel. At one point, Victoria peeks in on the colonel. He has dozed off, but this evening, it’s understandable that he would be tired after his outing. She tiptoes in and collects his empty cup and lifts the tea thermos he always has by his side. It needs a refill. Before she exits into the kitchen, Victoria has no idea what gets into her. She leans over and kisses the old man on the forehead. Let her friends date all the seventh and eighth graders they want. For now she’ll stick to a guy who has already grown up into a gentle old man.

  How the Mystery of the B&B Mishaps

  Became Even More Mysterious

  Tía Lola is determined to solve the mystery of all the mishaps that have been happening at her B&B. But since she’s not at the colonel’s house full-time, she needs someone in residence to keep an eye out.

  It’s not difficult to decide whom to pick. Esperanza Espada is curious. She loves adventure. Perhaps even more than Valentino, Essie has the nose of a hound.

  Tía Lola decides to include Miguel in her confidence. After all, he was the one who saved the guinea-pig weekend from total disaster. And even policemen work in pairs. Miguel and Essie will make the perfect team for getting to the bottom of the mysterious B&B mishaps.

  So, one night when the Espadas are over for dinner, Tía Lola invites Essie up to her room. She gestures to Miguel to follow. Valentino, who likes to be included in any project involving possible treats, trots up behind them.

  Tía Lola closes her bedroom door, then checks her closet and under her bed. Both kids are ready to jump out of their skin with nervous excitement. Valentino watches. But once it’s clear that no treats are involved, he lies down by the door and dozes off.

  “As you know, there have been a series of unfortunate mishaps at my B&B,” Tía Lola begins. And then she enumerates them: the locked house the first night of the guinea-pig weekend, the forged change of address on the McGregor–Magoon wedding invitation, the harmful rumor about the authorities closing down Tía Lola’s B&B, the Vaseline smeared all over the water polo team’s gear. Both Essie and Miguel had noticed one or another of these mishaps, but now, all bunched together, they have to agree with Tía Lola that something fishy is going on.

  “Do you … I mean, is the house haunted, you think?” A shiver goes up Essie’s spine. “It is an old house,” she says defensively, because Miguel is looking at her like she is a little baby who believes in witches and ghosts and maybe even the tooth fairy.

  “The house is haunted.” Tía Lola confirms Essie’s fears but then adds, “Haunted by a real living person.”

  “You mean, like, by a criminal?” Essie swallows the lump in her throat. A real-life burglar or murderer is a lot more scary than a ghost. After all, if the game of rock-paper-scissors were played with ghost-murderer-burglar, the murderer would win hands down, as murderers create ghosts by killing people, including burglars!

  “Whoever it is might not think they’re a criminal, but they are doing wrong things. I need your help in finding out who it is.”

  Miguel is quick to volunteer. Of course, it’s not his house being targeted. Still, Essie has a reputation to uphold. “Sure, Tía Lola, but can I also ask Colonel Charlebois to help us?” He has been a soldier all his life, with a chest full of medals. Essie would feel a lot better with the colonel covering her back.

  Tía Lola shakes her head firmly. She is very sure the colonel should not be involved. She is worried about him. He hasn’t been himself lately, sleeping so much, sluggish and tired all the time. He claims that this change has nothing to do with her B&B. But Tía Lola suspects that there is a connection. After all, it was only after her B&B opened that the colonel started sleeping all the time. “Unless we solve this mystery, I’m afraid we will have to close down Tía Lola’s B&B.”

  The children groan at this terrible news. The B&B is the one really fun thing they were counting on this long winter.

  Seeing their unhappy faces, Tía Lola tries to cheer them up. “Maybe we can solve the mystery, and all will be well. So, I want you to keep your eyes open.”

  “I can’t when I’m asleep.” Essie doesn’t want to sound contrary, but it’s a well-known fact that criminals as well as ghosts prefer to do their business late at night.

  “That’s where Valentino comes in. Right, Valentino?”

  Valentino has been dreaming that he is chasing a rabbit. But before he can catch it, someone calls his name. He shakes himself awake, just in time to hear himself pronounced the official night watchdog at Tía Lola’s B&B.

  He barks, accepting. He can catch up on his sleep during the day with the colonel and prowl the house at night for treats that need to be confiscated before they spoil at daybreak.

  From feeling initially trembly, Essie shifts into high detective gear. She asks to borrow Colonel Charlebois’s magnifying glass, which he uses for sorting his collection of stamps and coins from around the world. Essie also buys a little notebook at Stargazer’s shop to jot down interesting suspicious stuff: like Papa and Linda whispering something about “telling the children,” or the chips mysteriously disappearing from the bowl left on the kitchen counter overnight. (Valentino hangs his head sheepishly.) Or what about Victoria and Colonel Charlebois both conked out in the parlor, their little teacups side by side on the card table, and the Harry Potter book Victoria was reading fallen on the floor, suspiciously opened to the chapter “Halloween.”

  “Very, very in-ter-es-ting,” Essie keeps muttering. It has become what her father calls her “mantra.”

  “What’s a man trap?” Cari asks, looking around warily.

  “A man-tra,” Papa pronounces. “It’s like a chant that people of certain religions repeat when they are praying.”

  Cari looks relieved, and so does Essie. Her father has been momentarily distracted from wondering what mischief his second oldest is up to.

  Both Miguel and Tía Lola have told Essie that she needs to be less obvious. Walking around on tiptoe with a magnifying glass, a little notebook, and a whistle around her neck is bound to draw attention to their secret investigation.

  Also, parents can be distracted from asking about suspicious behavior only for so long. “Care to clue us in as to what is going on?” her father asks when he finds Essie investigating the coat closet with her flashlight.

&
nbsp; “I’m working on a project,” Essie tells her father. It’s the truth, sort of. Of course, Papa assumes Essie means a school project, as in homework, as in Good for you, Essie, for buckling down. Essie suspects that detectives have to be granted a license to tell many white lies.

  The only person who is downright annoyed with Essie’s sleuthing is the colonel’s cleaning girl. It’s funny how before now, Essie hardly ever noticed Henny. She usually comes when the Swords are at school. But even when the girls are home, Henny slips in so quietly to clean the colonel’s room and do his laundry and put out his tea tray and medication that the colonel himself doesn’t always notice her. Of course, he’s sound asleep half of the time.

  Henny isn’t exactly the kind of person that you’d notice anyhow. She dresses in a gray sweatshirt and pants; her face is sullen and pale, her beige hair severely pulled back in a limp ponytail. She’s only a teenager, but she seems older, like someone who has already had a disappointing life. The only time Henny cracks a smile is when the colonel gallantly addresses her as Miss Beauregard and insists on carrying her cleaning bucket to and from his room. But then, the colonel is that way with all the girls in the world, defending their honor and stuff.

  Lately, Essie keeps crossing paths with Henny, and as part of her sleuthing, Essie jots down whatever the young woman is doing.

  This afternoon, she happens into the kitchen as Henny is preparing the colonel’s tea tray. The young woman jumps like she has seen a ghost. She tosses an empty tea box hastily in the trash. “What are you doing?” she asks sharply.

  What a grouch! But Papa has pointed out that Henny used to have the job of cleaning the whole house. Now that the Swords have agreed to do the cleaning in partial payment of their rent, Henny might resent them. However, Papa, who is nothing if not fair, has also noted that the generous colonel is still paying Henny her full salary for half the work she used to do. “She should actually be glad we’ve come.”

  Tell that to Henny, who is flashing Essie the evil eye. Essie stands her ground and stares back. But what she notices is not the expected anger and resentment. Instead, the expression on the young woman’s face is closer to loneliness and fear, an orphan look that touches a part of Essie she can’t usually get to inside herself.

  “I’m sorry,” Essie finds herself saying to the young woman. “I didn’t mean to scare you. It’s just that I’m on the lookout.” And then Essie goes on to blab the whole truth without a single white lie. A startled look comes on the teenager’s face, like she has been caught with her hand in a cookie jar. Could it be that it was Henny who stole the chips from the bowl left out on the kitchen counter the other night?

  “Well, thanks for letting me know,” Henny says in a low, conspiring voice. “I’ll keep my eyes open and report back to you if I see anything suspicious, all right?”

  Essie nods and puts her little notebook away. It’s already dawning on her that neither Tía Lola nor Miguel will approve of her confiding in Henny. But what harm can there be in enlisting a fourth pair of watchful eyes—actually, a fifth pair counting Valentino’s? Miguel and Tía Lola should be glad for this extra help. Nevertheless, Essie decides not to tell them about Henny. Everywhere people cook beans, Tía Lola likes to say. But people everywhere probably hate blabbermouths who spill them.

  The weekend before Halloween, Linda has to attend an out-of-town conference. It just so happens that on Saturday, Víctor is coaching an away game close by. They decide to meet up and come back together on Sunday. Will Tía Lola mind taking care of both families, preferably in town so she can also keep an eye on the colonel?

  “¡No hay problema!” Tía Lola grins happily. No problem. This is precisely the kind of “job” she most enjoys: spending time with the kids and the colonel.

  Since he won’t be around, Víctor insists on closing the B&B for the weekend. Tía Lola will have enough to do without having to take care of guests, too.

  “But the children help me,” Tía Lola explains. Still, Mami is worried. What if there is a problem? What if a guest has an accident or the colonel gets sick?

  “Hey, I have an idea!” Juanita pipes up. “Us kids can be the guests instead.” It’ll be like when she ran away from home. “Can we, Tía Lola?”

  “¡No hay problema!” Tía Lola assures her.

  “ ‘No hay problema’ must be like your mantra, Tía Lola,” Essie jokes. She jots down the phrase in her spy book. It might come in useful, should she ever find herself doing detective work in South America.

  Friday morning, while the children are at school, the phone rings. Colonel Charlebois is dozing, so Tía Lola answers the call.

  “This is Margaret Soucy,” the caller says. The way the woman pronounces her name, it’s like she’s someone famous whom Tía Lola should know.

  “Buenos días, Señora Soucy.” Sometimes Tía Lola forgets she is in Vermont and answers automatically in Spanish.

  “Buenos días to you as well!” The caller is delighted. She is American, but she has lived all over the world, including South America. She rattles on in Spanish with only the trace of an accent.

  “I need an out-of-the-way place to stay for a few nights,” Margaret goes on to explain. Tía Lola is about to answer that her B&B is closed this weekend, but Margaret adds that hers is a last-minute trip due to a family crisis. A family crisis. Those are just the words that touch Tía Lola’s heart. Someone is in trouble and needs her help. How can she say no? “We are closed, but if it is just you, we will make an exception,” Tía Lola says.

  “I’d be much obliged,” Margaret says. “You need not fuss over me. I’m quite self-reliant. I’ve dipped my gourd in the river with the Jivaros in Peru and hunted with the Bushmen in the Kalahari Desert. Only one other thing: I’d be grateful if you kept my visit under wraps.”

  “Under what?” Tía Lola asks. Margaret has reverted to English.

  “Un secreto,” Margaret explains more simply, though her request for secrecy only heightens the mystery.

  “No hay problema,” Tía Lola agrees, but without her usual perky confidence. Who exactly is this Margaret Soucy? And why does she need a hotel room when she has family in the area? If Tía Lola were keeping a notebook like Essie, she would jot down every one of these interesting details.

  Friday afternoon, as Essie gets off the school bus and heads toward the house, Henny pokes her head out from behind a bush and motions to her. Essie reaches into her pocket for her little notebook. “Put that away,” Henny commands. “I need for you to do me a favor,” she says more nicely. “There’s a guest coming tonight—”

  Essie shakes her head. The B&B is closed this weekend. But Henny is certain. “She’s arriving late tonight. When she comes, give her this.” She offers Essie a folded-up note. “Don’t say anything to your aunt about it, okay?”

  Essie is feeling increasingly uneasy about all the secrets she is having to keep. It’s one thing to tell white lies in her own detective line of work. Another thing to be spraying white lies wherever she goes, till the world is snowed under by untruths. “Why can’t you give it to her yourself?”

  “Please,” the young woman pleads. “I have to get home or my mother’ll kill me. I’m already late. I need for you to help me, please.”

  If Tía Lola’s weakness is helping families in trouble, Essie’s would have to be rescuing people who are about to be murdered. “Okay,” she agrees, taking the note and stuffing it into her pocket.

  “And you promise not to tell your aunt?” Henny’s eyes cling to Essie with the look of someone who is going to jump off a cliff unless Essie says yes.

  Reluctantly, Essie agrees. But she’s not happy about being pushed into a corner. As she heads into the house through the back door, Essie notices a piece of litter that must have fallen out of the trash can. It’s the flattened box she recalls Henny tossing hurriedly in the trash a few days back. Maybe that’s why Essie even bothers to read the name. KNOCK-ME-OUT TEA, the label says.

  So intent is Essie o
n checking out Henny’s story that she hurries off without even bothering to jot down this extremely interesting detail in her notebook.

  Inside, Tía Lola is indeed telling the assembled group that a guest is coming. “I know we are officially closed, but this is a special situation. And one more thing, our guest wants to be kept a secret.”

  “Why?” Cari asks, wide-eyed. Secrets can be scary unless they’re about birthday parties.

  Tía Lola flashes the little girl a reassuring smile. Maybe Essie is imagining this, but for a split second, Tía Lola looks worried herself. “Our guest wants privacy. I think she might be famous. Do any of you know a Margaret Soucy?”

  The colonel, who is just now rousing himself from his nap, sits up. “Margaret Soucy? Of course, I know Margaret.”

  No wonder the woman spoke her name as if Tía Lola should know who she is. She’s a friend of Colonel Charlebois’s. “She has some sort of private family crisis.”

  “No surprise.” The colonel shakes his head sadly. “But it’s not so private. The whole town knows about it.”

  Of course, except for the colonel, all those present are recent newcomers to Bridgeport. None of them has heard the story the old man is about to tell them.

  “Margaret Soucy, first of all, is one of the best anthropologists of our time. She has lived everywhere and is an authority on any number of curious customs, from child brides in Yemen to cannibalism among the Korowai in New Guinea to snake charmers in Madagascar.”

  Essie is amazed. She is wasting her time in detective work. And to think this world-famous authority, who has been to even more interesting places than the colonel, is coming to stay in this very house. But why would a blah teenager like Henny be writing to a dazzling world authority who has done the most amazing things?

  “Margaret Soucy left town when she was a young girl, not much older than you.” The colonel nods at Victoria. “Bright as a whistle. Scholarships at Smith, Stanford. But her sister took the opposite route. She stayed in town, took up with a young fellow who gambled away every last penny she had, then left her with a baby to fend for herself. Unfortunately, this sad turn of events transformed this sister into—sorry to say this about any lady—a bitter, disturbed woman. She and Margaret had a horrible falling-out about, oh, about any number of things.” He waves the whole sad affair away and yawns heartily.