Federico’s smirk changes to a frown. Perla Rubi giggles, then pulls Emiliano out of his chair. “We’ll be back,” she tells the group. She’s walking with him, laughing, waving at someone on the terrace.
“What?” he says to her when they’re away from the group.
“I had to get you out of there before you lost it and beat the crap out of Federico.”
“I wasn’t going to lose it.”
“They’re just silly—don’t mind them. Let’s see if we can find my mother so you can wish her a happy birthday like we planned.” She squeezes his arm. “Are you all right? You seem upset about something.”
“I’m sorry. It’s been a very strange day.”
She stops in the middle of the steps and turns to him. “Anything bad? Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Everything’s okay.” He notices for the first time the soft, white dress that Perla Rubi is wearing. Not white, exactly, but the creamy color of a pearl. She seems so rich, like everything else in her house. Not just money-rich, but rich with life and color and happiness.
“Did you have trouble getting here? How did you get here anyway?”
“I drove here in a Mercedes.” Did he really have to mention that it was a Mercedes?
“What?”
“It’s a long story. I did a friend a favor and took his father’s car to the repair shop, and then it got too late to take the car back to him and still make it here in time, so he let me keep it overnight.”
“Mmm.” The look on Perla Rubi’s face says she doesn’t quite believe him. “I didn’t know you had those kinds of friends.”
He smiles and squeezes her hand. “Stick with me, young lady. I am full of surprises.”
Perla Rubi smiles back and blushes.
Mrs. Esmeralda is waiting for them at the edge of the terrace. He’s met her before, when she’s come to pick up Perla Rubi from school. Emiliano extends his hand, but Mrs. Esmeralda hugs him instead. It’s a delicate hug that makes him think of a monarch butterfly, the kind he saw on the Sierra Tarahumara.
“Thank you for the beautiful cake,” she says, smiling at him. “Diana told me your mother made it.”
“It’s her specialty. It has coffee liqueur.”
“I hope you don’t mind,” Mrs. Esmeralda says, “but I told Diana not to put it out with the other desserts. I’m going to keep it all for myself. Maybe I’ll let you have a piece, Perla Rubi, if you are good.”
“I will be. I’ll be very good.”
Mrs. Esmeralda hooks her arm through Emiliano’s and tells Perla Rubi, still smiling, “I’m going to take him to meet your father.”
“Papá?” Perla Rubi asks, surprised. “Why?”
Mrs. Esmeralda shrugs mysteriously. “I don’t know. Your father told me he wanted to talk to him.”
“Don’t worry,” Perla Rubi says to Emiliano. “His bark is worse than his bite.”
Emiliano grins as he tries to remember where he heard that phrase recently. It’s supposed to make people less afraid, but it usually has the opposite effect. There’s no need to be nervous. He should be excited. This is his opportunity to show Perla Rubi’s father that he is worthy of his daughter. Isn’t that the plan? “I’ll see you,” he says to Perla Rubi.
“Bye!” Perla Rubi says, excited. She’s happy that he’s getting all this attention from her parents, he can tell.
Mrs. Esmeralda is wearing a silky, soft, pale green dress with her hair flowing over her shoulders. A silver-and-emerald necklace jiggles gently when she walks. Emiliano is glad he chose the cake as a present. Whatever he was going to buy her with his thousand pesos would have looked pathetic on Mrs. Esmeralda.
“I hope you didn’t have too much trouble getting here. I know you live far away,” Mrs. Esmeralda says. They are walking through a kitchen that seems larger than Emiliano’s entire house. The girl who took the cake smiles at him, or at Mrs. Esmeralda, he’s not sure. “Don’t forget to take your mother’s platter when you leave. Diana will have it ready for you.”
“Thank you.”
“I could get Jaime to take you back home if you wish.”
“Thank you. I have a way to get home.”
They walk up a staircase made of white granite. Mrs. Esmeralda stops and says to him, “I wanted to tell you how glad I am that you and Perla Rubi are good friends.”
“Thank you,” Emiliano says. Does he imagine a slight weight on the word friends?
“It’s really been good for Perla Rubi to help you with your studies. I’ve noticed, I don’t know, a greater maturity and sense of responsibility ever since she started tutoring you. And, of course, Jorge and I are very grateful that she has you to watch over her at school.”
“Thank you” is the only thing he can think of saying. Sometime in the near future, he hopes he will come up with something to say other than thank you.
Mrs. Esmeralda continues, “Jorge and I don’t care about material things, believe it or not. We care about hard work. Perla Rubi has told me how hard you work with the school’s soccer team and helping poor kids with Brother Patricio and the …”
“Jiparis,” Emiliano says.
“Jiparis. What a nice person Brother Patricio is, isn’t he?”
“Yes. He’s a good man.”
“We’re always happy to contribute to his causes. Oh, look.” They stop by a small table placed against a wall. On top of it is a vase with black and white designs. “Perla Rubi told me about your Mexican folk art business. How enterprising on your part. I collect folk art too! This is a vase made by the indigenous people of Michoacán. Isn’t it beautiful? Do you work with pottery in your business?” She looks at him expectantly.
“No, pottery like that requires special clay and paints and furnaces. The folk art objects that my kids make are from everyday, easy-to-find, inexpensive materials.”
“Your kids?”
“The younger Jipari kids make things for me to sell.”
She smiles. “That’s sweet.”
Mrs. Esmeralda starts walking and Emiliano follows her. Javier and Memo and the other Jiparis are his kids, kind of. He got them interested in creating things once he saw they had the patience and attention to detail needed to be good craftsmen. He gives them money for materials when they don’t have any. He sells their work at the best price he can get. He gets a fair fee for what he does. He never thought of the arrangement as “sweet.”
Emiliano thinks of the miniature piñatas that Javier makes. If he accepts Mr. Reyes’s offer, he’ll need to convince Javier to load the piñatas. Javier’s family is barely surviving. The money that they make from the loaded piñatas would make their lives so much more comfortable.
They turn left at the top of the stairs and stop in front of the first closed door. Mrs. Esmeralda raps on it gently.
“Come in,” a man’s voice says. It is difficult to determine whether it is welcoming or not.
“Don’t let him intimidate you,” Mrs. Esmeralda whispers to Emiliano. “Sometimes he interrogates people like the lawyer he is. If he asks you a question you don’t feel like answering, just say, ‘That’s a very good question. I’ll have to think about that.’ It’s what Perla Rubi and I do.” She winks and then opens the door for him to go in alone.