“Well… I haven’t seen him in almost four years. And just because someone is your brother doesn’t mean he’s a nice person.”
She presses her rosebud lips together and nods slowly as if she understands completely. I trot down the landing with her on my hip, straight into Valeria’s waiting hug.
“It was so weird not having you at the house this morning. Beto might have to let you sleep over a few nights until we get used to it.”
The idea we have to ask my brother’s permission like he’s my dad or something bristles my skin, but I let it go. “Did you bring the rest of my stuff?”
“I put your art there.” She gestures to the tall canvases and paper-covered items leaning against the wall in the foyer. “I wasn’t sure where you wanted it. Beto says we’re not having Lo’s Quince at the KOC. We’re having it right here.”
I expected as much, but I think my brother is probably right on this one. “It’s better this way. We have plenty of room, people can stay as long as they want, and best of all?”
“It’s free.” We both say it together and laugh.
“Not entirely free. We still have to buy all the decorations, the food, drinks…” Her voice trails off, and I know she’s worried about money.
Growing up in her house, we were always worried about money.
“I’m pretty sure if my brother told you to move the party here, he’s planning to help with everything.”
“How do you know that?”
“Trust me. I’ve been around Beto less than twenty-four hours, and I have a pretty good idea how his ego runs. Now where’s the dress?” I follow her across the large entrance to the dining room where my younger cousin’s elaborate ballgown is spread over a table.
Lola saved a pin on Pinterest of a dark red gown with a gold-embellished bodice and a tiered, floor-length skirt made of layers of dark red tulle.
Valeria complained loudly a thousand dollars for a dress is too expensive. Lola almost burst into tears, but I secretly ordered the pattern with Valeria’s help, and I’ve been sewing it in my spare time. It’s almost done, and it’s spectacular.
It’s almost finished, but we still have some beading to do and the final tier of tulle in the skirt. I spread the fabric and thread on the table.
“I hope I measured correctly. I wish we could have her try it on.”
Valeri
a makes a sad face. “It would ruin the surprise.”
“Yeah…” I exhale, fluffing the enormous skirt over and over. “It’ll be more ruined if it doesn’t fit.”
That pulls her up short. “You make a point.”
“Ah, good morning, Valeria, good morning, Carmelita.” Beto’s deep voice interrupts everything. “What’s this?”
He’s dressed in black jeans and a white undershirt. His arms are covered in tattoos of snakes and skulls and an eagle crushing bones in its talons.
“I’m finishing Lola’s Quince dress.” Lifting it by the hanger, I shake it so the skirt moves in all its queenly glory.
Looking at it now, I can’t believe I did it myself, and a rush of sentimental pride warms my chest. Smiling over at my brother, all I see is his disapproving face.
“Why are you sewing her dress?” He says it like it’s distasteful, and my smile melts.
“Beto!” Valeria scolds. “Carmie has been working on this dress for weeks! It’s a wonderful thing she’s doing for Lo.”
“Poor people make their own clothes. Why didn’t you buy something from a store?”
“This dress would be more than a thousand dollars in a store.” I don’t even try to hide my annoyance.
“I’ll buy her dress. Where should she go? Neiman’s?”
“She is not going to a store.” Valeria’s wide eyes meet mine, and she shakes her head. “She will wear this beautiful dress. Carme has worked hard… Lola will wear this, and it will be something to treasure. An heirloom.”