“You did it.” He scoops me under the butt, carrying me to the bedroom. “Now it’s time to get some rest. I have to be in the office all day tomorrow, then I’ve got to follow up with Winnie about my grandmother.”
“I can’t believe you found that old deed.” He showed me the yellowed paper with my grandfather’s signature on it over dinner.
Carefully touching the signature, I tried to imagine the man who held onto his land, who made an agreement with his best friend to carve out a section for his family, and who according to my brother had it stolen away.
“You think it’s all connected?” Lying on my side in the bed, I wait as Deacon climbs in beside me in only his boxer briefs.
“I think it’s very possible my grandfather found out what happened and set out to destroy the man who stole his wife.” He reaches for me, and I turn, spooning my back against his firm chest. “I think I can understand his motivation.”
Deacon’s nose is in the back of my hair, and I thread our fingers. “Didn’t you say your grandfather was gone all the time, leaving her alone with a five-year-old?”
“That’s what her letter said.” His voice grows sleepy.
“I think you know better than to do something like that.” Threading our fingers, I place our hands over my stomach, thinking about the little life growing there.
Closing my eyes, I drift to sleep on a dream of us in the desert, in the shadow of the Sierra Madre mountains, our baby in my arms.
“Don’t look at the price tag.” Lourdes sits across from me in the plush dressing room at Nieman’s.
“I can’t help it,” I whisper, dropping the small white square hanging from the sleeve. “And that’s on sale!”
I’m standing in front of a gold-framed, full-length mirror in a deep red gown with a plunging V in the front and a high slit up the leg. It’s tight over my waist and stomach, and I can’t help thinking it might be my last time for a dress like this for a while.
“This dressing room is the size of my bedroom.” Lourdes leans forward. “I can’t believe they just let us back here.”
“Deacon called first.” I turn to the side, looking down my back. “I think I like the black one better.”
“Which one? You tried on three.”
“The one with the silver belt.”
“Ohh… yes. Super elegant.”
“Have you made your choice, Mrs. Dring?” My heart stops at her words, and Lourdes inhales a quiet hiss.
Pride, embarrassment, a little smug happiness warms my chest. I feel my cheeks warm, and I can’t help a smile. “Yes, I like this one.”
I motion to the floor-length black dress with the high slit on the leg.
“Ah, yes. The Carolina Herrera. Would you be needing shoes to complete the look?”
Lourdes and I exchange a glance, and she raises her brows like she does this all the time. “She’ll need some black heels, yes.”
“I’ll have our recommendations sent over from the shoe department. Do you know your size?”
Clearing my throat, I manage to answer. “Seven and a half narrow.”
“Very good.”
The elegant older woman leaves the dressing room, and as soon as the door closes, we explode into whispers.
“Mrs. Dring?” Lourdes leans forward.
“I am wearing my engagement ring…” Holding out my hand, I admire how the peach stone sparkles like a drop of fire on my hand in this light.
“Yeah, but no wedding band.”
“Maybe I left it at home?”
“I would never know. You haven’t slept on my couch once since you supposedly moved in with me.”
We straighten up in time for my fitting and finishing up my purchases for the party. The clerk helps me select a feathered mask to compliment the dress with sequins and silver accents. Then she offers to have it all shipped to Deacon’s penthouse, so I don’t have to carry heavy bags. I had no idea stores even did stuff like that.
“Longest shopping trip ever!” I cry as the wind pushes my hair around my head through the open windows.
I’ve got my feet on the dash and the music is blasting J’Lo’s “On the Floor.” Lourdes and I sing the Na-Na part at the top of our lungs. I’m trying to remember the last time I felt so happy and free.
“Oh, no.” My bestie turns the music down as we pull into her driveway, and I recognize Valeria’s Honda.
My happy-free feeling dims. “Why are you saying that?”
“She’s been calling for you.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Sitting up quickly, I trace my fingers through my wild hair, pulling it into a scrunchie.
“I kept forgetting.”
I’m not sure why we’re whispering. We’re both grown women. Lourdes puts the car in park, and we go into the house together.
“Carmie!” Sofia’s little voice echoes through the house. “I’ve missed you!”
She runs straight to me, and I swing her up on my hip, hugging her as she squeezes my neck with all her four-year-old strength.
“Oh!” I grunt playfully. “I missed you, too!”
She sits back on my arm. “I started camp on Monday and we went to the museum, and I saw some arts, and I told Mamma none of them were as good as yours. And Mamma said we needed to come see you to see your art, and I said I wanted to see you because I didn’t want you to go to Ursula after Uncle Beto broke all your stuff—”
“My goodness, Soph!” Lourdes cries. “Take a breath.”
I’m smiling so much my cheeks hurt, listening to all her words with big eyes. “You’ve been a busy little lady!”
“Come here.” Valeria pulls me and her littlest daughter into a hug. “I haven’t seen you in so long. Not since the accident. Where have you been?”
“Working… here…” I’m stalling.
“Lourdes said Juliana took over at the coffee shop for you.”
“You know I’ve been working on that portrait.” My hand rubs circles on Sofia’s little back as she puts her head on my shoulder.
I notice Lourdes’s eyes widen, but it’s too late. Valeria catches my hand, pulling it to her face. “What is this?”
“Ahh… Haha…” I force a fake laugh. There’s no getting out of this one. “It’s ahh—”
“It’s an engagement ring.” My cousin’s eyes narrow, and her lips press together. “You’re engaged, and you didn’t bother to tell your family? See what this boy is doing to you?”
Sofia’s head pops up. “I want to see your ring.”
I move my hand around to show her while keeping my eyes on my cousin. “It just happened a few days ago.”
I’m hesitant to say it was over the weekend. I know exactly where that will lead—to her pointing out I was getting engaged while my brother was in the hospital. Instead, I state the obvious.
“If my family acted a little more civilized, I’d be more excited to tell you these things.”
“You’re really going to marry that boy?”
“Deacon is a man, and yes. I’m really going to marry him.” Sofia slides down my waist and trots to the small living room and turns on the television.