by Becca Bloom
A few minutes later, we loaded into the metal contraption hung from a single (albeit solid) cable wire. It was manned by a guy wearing a muscle shirt, board shorts, and flip flops straddling a diesel engine. He fed a monkey on his shoulder to keep the rascal from stealing visitors’ cameras. Lady wasn’t impressed with the primate and kept her distance. I just hoped the monkey kept away from the lever that controlled the motor.
My hair whipped around my face as we took off at a speedy clip. There was a hiking trail below for the robust and intrepid. I waved at them, tiny ant-sized specks from our lofty height.
Half way across the giant gap spanning the two mountain peaks, the tarabita lurched to a stop. Lady hopped from side to side to look, rocking the car more and making me woozy.
I teased to cover the panic stinging my throat, “I hope the monkey didn’t take over the controls.”
Mammy leaned against one end of the cable car, her hand casually gripping the steel chord attaching us to the twined metal wires above. “I’m impressed, Sugar. I’ve always known you had it in you, but your bravery exceeds my wildest imaginations.”
I laughed, trying not to look down or wonder if I’d faint before crashing to our doom at the bottom of the river. “My life has become one big ‘One-Two-Three-Go!’”
“You still do that?” Mammy asked through her smile.
I explained for Jake, “It’s a game Mammy taught me. Whenever I’m terrified of something I know I need to do, I count to three and go before I can talk myself out of it.”
“Huh. I do something similar with my tour groups before they have to jump off a bridge. With all you’ve done lately, I thought it came more naturally to you.”
“With all I’ve done? I don’t do anything compared to you. I’m a great faker. Most of the time, I’m scared to death.” Yep, that’s me. The big phony.
Jake narrowed his eyes, looking at me askance. “Right.”
He didn’t believe me. While I’d love nothing more than for Jake to think I was fearless and cool like him, it was important to me that he know the truth.
His countenance was a model in skepticism. “Like the time you talked down a high-ranking general to solve a cold case and save Tia Rosa’s building?”
“That was a series of fortunate accidents,” I countered.
“Or when you faced a gun-wielding killer with nothing but bolts of fabric and strings of sequins for protection?”
“That was only because I had no other choice. The sequins were a great distraction.”
“Or when you single-handedly shut down a bootleg operation making a lot of people sick?”
“Anyone would have done the same.”
“Or when you won the prize in a town-wide exposition for your delicious doughnuts?”
Now that one, I could take credit for. “They were good, weren’t they?”
“Or when you rescued your kidnapped dog and her ill-treated parents from an evil dog breeder?”
“That one was just stupid. But I got my girl back,” Lady curled up at my feet, panting.
Mammy reached across the car to shove me in the shoulder. “You didn’t tell me all of that! We’re going to have to revise some of your drawings, Sugar, and add more! You have to add the sequins.” She rubbed her hands together, growing pensive as the cable car lurched forward, increasing in speed until I thought we’d crash on the other side.
Mammy continued excitedly, “Don’t worry. I won’t tell your mom and dad just how adventurous your life has really become. They probably wouldn’t believe me if I did tell them. Just keep drawing!”
We didn’t crash into the rock face on the other side. We rammed into a tire, bouncing off of it and swaying wildly until the cable car calmed enough to exit.
I wanted to drop to my knees and kiss the solid ground.
What was I doing? I’m not brave. All those things Jake had mentioned? Stupid accidents.
Here I was, running my dream business in a foreign country where I didn’t even speak the language fluently, and I was fool enough to think I would last more than a week. Sal was right about me.
Chapter 14
By the time we got back to Baños, I’d worked myself into a nervous tizzy.
Lady poked me with her wet nose, looking up at me with her big, brown puppy eyes. She knew I was out of sorts.
Even Jake kept giving me concerned looks in his rearview mirror during the drive.
He pulled in at the park by my home, looped his arm behind the back of Mammy’s passenger seat, and twisted around to ask, “Hey, are you okay?”
I forced a smile. “Yeah. Great. Never better.” What good would it do to burden him with my worries? I’d do what I always did. Take a deep breath, close my eyes, say 1-2-3-Go!, and hope for the best.
Mammy pursed her tangerine lips and shook her head at me. I didn’t fool her at all … and it was becoming apparent that I wasn’t fooling Jake either.
Why couldn’t I have my panicked moment of doubt in private? Now I felt bad for causing them to worry about me.
Climbing out of the Jeep, we crossed the park in time to see Abuelita burst out of my building onto the sidewalk.
I gawked open-mouthed at the spectacle she provided. Jake and Mammy did the same.
We parted to make way for Abuelita, who came charging toward us like a steam engine in a huff. She was as mad as a hornet and covered in red paint from head to toe.
Tia Rosa chased after her. When she passed between us, she shouted without pausing, “No worry! I come back! I clean!”
“What happened?” I asked, jogging beside her.
“My idea no work so good. No worry! We try different one!” Tia Rosa said, running as fast as her short legs would carry her to keep up with her irate sister.
“That’s what worries me.” I let her go, more than a little concerned at the scene awaiting me in my apartment.
I looked at Jake. “There’s no way Ernesto might come back early from his vacation? I really need an alarm.”
“Let me help you clean,” he replied.
“I’ll take that as a no,” I sighed.
Mammy chuckled. “That’s not the worst of it. Just wait until Bertha steps under fluorescent lighting.”
Jake and I stared at her.
She explained, “Rosa insisted on adding UV marking dye to the red paint. Bertha’s going to shine like a glow stick for at least a week under certain lighting.”
A wicked grin spread over Jake’s face. “You have fluorescents in your living room, don’t you, Jess?”
“I dare you,” I replied.
“It’s on. I’m not afraid of her, and neither are you.”
I pondered that for a moment. It was true. It hadn’t taken me long to figure out that Abuelita’s gruff exterior hid a caring heart. She just had a unique way of showing love and support.
Resigned to spend the rest of the evening cleaning red paint, and who knew what else awaited us at the top of the stairs, I trudged across the street to my building and up the steps to my apartment.
The door was open but appeared to be intact. Red paint was splattered everywhere, mostly down the marble steps. It was awful, but there was one positive. There were only a few red splashes on the hardwood floor of my entryway. My stairs were a mess, but my living room was nearly unscathed. That was something.
Mammy leaned against me. “Don’t worry. It’s water-based. It’ll be easier to clean.”
Lady continued up to the terrace. I didn’t blame her. It smelled strongly of paint and something that burned my nostrils.
“What else was mixed in the paint?” I asked, the burn spreading to my throat and making my eyes water.
Mammy twisted her mouth. “Maybe a little bit of pepper spray.”
“Pepper spray,” Jake exclaimed, wiping his eyes dry with his t-shirt sleeve.
“We couldn’t get tear gas,” Mammy said.
“Well, then, I guess we should count our blessings,” I said, taking off my shoes and stepping into the li
ving room to open the windows.
True to her word, Tia Rosa returned to help clean, as did Abuelita when she had scoured herself in the shower.
Adi crept upstairs, looking like she’d had a long day. She grabbed a sponge and dipped it in the bucket of warm, soapy water. Attacking the paint splattered on the wall in our stairwell. She didn’t even comment on the mess. She just started cleaning like it was a normal event, saying, “I can’t wait until I’m a big enough name to call all the shots. Right now, I have to cater to my clients’ every whim. Even if they change their mind at the last minute. Again.”
“If you’re too swamped, my dress can wait, deary,” Mammy said.
Adi smiled. “I never make my favorite clients wait. It’ll be ready for a fitting tomorrow. You’re going to love it!” She straightened from her crouch. “Which reminds me … I’ll be right back.” She disappeared into her apartment, leaving a trail of pink soap bubbles from the sponge she forgot she held.
A few minutes later, you’d never have known there had been a booby trap mishap at my place. I ran upstairs to see what the gardeners had accomplished on the terrace, and, satisfied with their progress, I returned to my apartment. With every window and door open, we heard the festive salsa music our neighbors played. Children laughed. A dog howled. Lively chatter echoed up the stairs, lending cheer to the myriad of pleasant sounds filling my apartment.
I looked out at the park. Twinkle lights sparkled in spirals around trees and dangled from the leafy canopy above. Street vendors pushed their carts of food to the square, the welcome aromas wafting through the air and making my stomach grumble. I stood there for a moment longer, letting the charm of my home fill my senses. My shoulders relaxed, and I remembered what had drawn me to this place, what had made me think I could live my dream here.
Jake tossed his stained towel over his shoulder. “Is anyone else hungry?” he asked.
“I’m starved,” I answered before I remembered that girls weren’t supposed to have an appetite in front of cute guys. That’s what Jessamyn told me anyway — and she ought to know. She was the beautiful, popular sister. I’d always thought it was a stupid rule though. A girl on a miserable diet had probably created it so she wouldn’t be hangry (yes, that’s a real thing) and alone.
“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” he said.
Mammy winked at me. I wasn’t about to jump to any erroneous conclusions again, so I refused to think there was anything to it.
I made a pot of coffee while she, Tia Rosa, and Abuelita sat around the dining room table planning their next booby trap. I phased out their conversation, deciding it best not to know. Ignorance was bliss … sometimes.
Taking my mug over to the living room window overlooking the park, I sipped the beloved brew. People strolled by and I watched them, seeing everyone and looking at no one in particular. Until an abrupt movement caught my eye.
I squinted to see better. A man hid behind a hot dog stand’s striped umbrella. His white shirt and Panama hat stood out in contrast against the darkness. Angry Art Man? Was he still hanging around? Why was he here? Was he scouting out my apartment? At least my painting was safe with the police. Could he have been the one who broke into my apartment? Maybe he hadn’t taken anything because, like Gus had said, what he was looking for wasn’t there. My mind hummed as pieces of the puzzle clicked into place.
Jake returned, bearing a shopping sack full of yellow sandwich-sized bags stuffed with thickly cut French fries and topped with a hamburger patty drizzled with homemade hot sauce and mayonnaise. Thinly sliced tomato and onion mixed with cilantro garnished the top. My mouth started watering, and my stomach growled so loudly Jake handed me the first bag of loaded fries.
When everyone was served, he pulled out a large bottle of cerveza to wash it all down.
I swallowed my first bite, loading my fork up with the next. “Oh my goodness, this is delicious!”
“You like Ecuadorian fast food?” he asked.
Abuelita shot him a disapproving look. “Is no fast food. We eat fresh, good food.”
“However long it took to make, I like it,” I said, diffusing the argument. Abuelita didn’t joke about food.
Lady, no doubt drawn by the scent of beef, followed her nose inside. Jake had a hamburger for her.
Adi came in, breathing deeply. “I hope you brought one for me, too.”
Jake handed her the last bag. “I know better than to forget you.”
Adi punched him in the arm, handing me a wrapped box before she took her dinner from Jake. “I’m sorry I took so long. I had one more ruffle to attach before I could wrap it. I hope you like them.”
She’d wrapped the box so perfectly, I almost didn’t want to open it. Abuelita and Mammy encouraged me to rip it off, but such was not my way. I pulled the tape carefully, getting the wrapping paper off in one piece, the bows decorating it perfectly intact.
Lifting the lid to the box, I held up an apron. It was black with pastel polka dots to match the accents in my shop. A Tiffany blue ruffle trimmed with bubblegum pink and mint green ribbons trimmed the edges.
“It’s perfect,” I said, fingering the ribbon on the apron’s matching cap.
Adi beamed. “I couldn’t let my bestie wear a nasty hairnet when I can make it more stylish. The cap will cover the worst of it, and if you wear it at an angle, it’ll be quite fetching.”
“I love it! And you made enough for everyone. Thank you so much, Adi.” A mixture of gratitude and panic surged through me.
Abuelita rubbed her hands together. “Three days to the doughnuts!”
I groaned. Only three more days. What was I doing?
Mammy leaned closer to me and whispered, “1-2-3-Go!”
Several curious glances turned to us for an explanation, but just then Jake turned off all the lights except the one fluorescent tube running down the center of my living room ceiling.
We gasped and stared.
“What’d I say? Just like a glow stick!” Mammy said as we tried not to laugh at the dark scowl on Abuelita’s luminous face.
Chapter 15
I hit the snooze button two times on my alarm the next morning, mumbling “no regrets” to myself. It was a nice thought until I decided that I’d most certainly regret the extra hours of slumber once my shop opened and I was theretofore destined to become a morning lark. No more “just one more chapter” reading spurts lasting until three in the morning. In less than forty-eight hours, my glorious days of sleeping in would officially be over.
However, when it got close to time for the gardeners to arrive and continue their work on the terrace, I finally rolled out of bed.
Mammy sat reading in her chair with two steaming coffee cups and a plate of scrambled eggs on the coffee table in front of her.
I sat beside her, nursing my morning nectar and waiting for it to infuse life into my sleep-craving bones.
“Your mother puked all morning the day she opened her first photography studio. Even now, she can’t eat on the day of an exposition.”
“What? My mom?” I asked in shock. Mom never lost her cool. A consummate professional, she always knew what to say. She befriended everyone in a crowd during her showings. I wished I was more like her, but I hated small talk and crowds of people I didn’t have more than a basic acquaintance with. (Very Mr. Darcy of me, I know, but I always argued he was an introvert at heart. Like me.)
“Believe it,” she said. “What you’re feeling is perfectly normal, Sugar. I’d worry about you if you weren’t a little nervous.”
I sighed. “That’s the problem. I’m not just a little nervous. I’m terrified.”
“That means you care. Everything worth doing involves an uncomfortable amount of risk. So long as you give it your all, your regrets will be few.”
I tried to smile. “No regrets, huh?”
She pinched my chin. “No regrets. 1-2-3-Go! Fake it ‘til you make it. You can take your pick. People wouldn’t make up so many of these motivational quotes
unless they needed them. You’re not alone in that, Sugar. One step inside your shop, and you’ll remember why you’re doing this.”
Was it really that simple? “I think I’ll go down to the shop for a few minutes.”
“Eat your breakfast first. I’ll join you as soon as I finish this chapter.” She held up her book, burying her face in it, her knees bobbing up and down at what must be a thrilling scene. I might have to borrow that one when she was done (after I reread Pride & Prejudice. I clearly had Jane Austen on the brain.)
After breakfast, I cleaned the dishes and changed into real clothes to go downstairs.
Sal stood outside his bakery. Pasting a smile on my face, I waved at him. I might feel like I was in over my head, but he didn’t need to know it.
He crossed his arms and retreated inside his bakery.
It was for the best. After I’d waved, the horrifying idea that he’d take it as an invitation to come over and chat had made me regret my move.
I turned to my metal roll-up door and froze.
After several blinks, it still looked the same. The locks were cut, dangling loosely from their hooks.
I felt like I’d just finished a marathon (what I imagined a marathon would feel like anyway). My heart thrummed clear to my fingertips, and I couldn’t catch my breath to save my life.
Flicking the useless locks loose, I pulled the door up and opened my eyes.
I covered my mouth, but no scream came out. My gut felt like it had suffered a sucker punch, and I had no breath at all to spare.
My beautiful, gold letter-etched front window was smashed to bits. I wanted to cry until logic came to my rescue. Now, why did they bother to smash the window when they could’ve gone through the door?
Propelled by anger and frustration, I went inside. Glass from my beloved window crunched under my Converse. All the tables and chairs were there. The empty till was just as I’d left it. The pink pastry boxes with my shop’s name on them were untouched.
A dusty, white trail led from the kitchen out the door. So they had used the door. That made me angrier. Seriously, why had they smashed my window when there was a perfectly good door right there?