How Tía Lola Learned to Teach (7 page)

“She said my pliés were like a real ballerina’s.” Juanita stands up and executes a couple of graceful bends, holding on to the bedpost.

“Carmen was right!” Tía Lola claps approvingly. “The truth is, Carmen is a good visitor. Did you see how she gobbled up my
pastelitos
at lunch? She said they were the best she’d had in months.”

“I love how she calls us by our whole names: Miguel Ángel and Juana Inés,” Juanita says, pointing to her brother and to herself. “She says they’re the best names on account of yours was the greatest painter and mine the greatest poet.”

Something is beginning to bug Miguel like a pebble in his shoe: Carmen seems to be spreading her compliments around a little too generously. Does she really
mean what she says, or is she just trying to be nice to everyone?

“You know what they say,” Tía Lola says. She always seems to be able to read Miguel’s thoughts.
“Más moscas se cogen con una gota de miel que con un cuarto de vinagre.”
You catch more flies with a drop of honey than you do with a quart of vinegar.

Instead of Tía Lola’s helping to shake the annoying pebble from Miguel’s shoe, her saying adds another pebble. Who wants to think of himself as a duped fly?

Juanita has stopped her plié-ing to look squarely at her aunt. “Tía Lola, do you have a saying for everything?”

“Just about,” Tía Lola says, laughing. “Now, let’s get downstairs. You know what they say—”

“I know, I know,” Juanita pipes up. “ ‘The shrimp who falls asleep is carried away by the current.’ And that goes for flamingos, too,” she adds, picking up Tía Lola’s piñata by the loop in its center. The flamingo dangles from her hand, its neck and legs boinging up and down. It looks like it is trying to dance the merengue, which is hard to do with a tennis ball knotted at each knee and two others holding down its feet.

“On the other hand,” Miguel offers, “ ‘waking up early doesn’t make the sun rise any faster.’ ”

“Right!” Juanita gives her brother a high five. “So we might as well ‘dress slowly if we’re in a hurry’ ”—another saying of Tía Lola’s.

Their aunt stands before them in her bright floral dress, shaking her head at her niece and nephew. “You
two don’t need to go to a party. You’re having such a good time already!”

“That’s because we love you, Tía Lola,” Juanita says, just to make sure her aunt doesn’t take offense at their teasing. “Don’t we, Mr. Flamingo?” The pink bird bobs, agreeing with everything. Kind of like Carmen, Miguel can’t help thinking.

As they drive over to the party, a soft, celebratory snow begins to fall. Already the parking lot is full of cars—the whole town must be here. The invitation that Mami and Tía Lola sent out instructed everyone to congregate in the library parking lot at five-thirty. A few folks are selected to go across the street into the restaurant ahead of the others, like regular clients, just so Rudy doesn’t get suspicious. Then, as planned, Dawn calls Rudy into the kitchen to help with some “emergency.” Shauna blinks the lights, and that’s the signal! Everyone hurries over—potluck platters and baskets stuffed with homemade goodies and other gifts in hand. When Rudy comes out of the kitchen, scratching his head, the dining room is packed with well-wishers yelling “SURPRISE!”

Except for Tía Lola, who is yelling
“¡SORPRESA!”

Meanwhile, at the back door of the restaurant, a van has pulled up. Woody, Rudy’s son, unloads several flats of sodas and pizzas and ice cream he couldn’t deliver beforehand since his dad might catch on. In the front
dining room, the party is in full swing. From the ceiling hang three outstanding piñatas: a flourishing palm tree—nice to spot one in Vermont in winter; a jittery flamingo; and a donkey that looks a little henpecked. Trays of finger foods make the rounds. Tía Lola’s
pastelitos
are gone so quickly that Carmen doesn’t even get the chance to have one. “Oh well,” she says graciously. “I already pigged out at lunch.”

There are speeches and toasts. Everyone wants to know if Rudy didn’t suspect that something was going on.

“I guess I’m getting old or something,” Rudy says, laughing. “I didn’t have the slightest. I did think supplies looked kind of low for a Saturday night. And when this one,” he adds, pointing to his grinning son, “when he didn’t show up on time, I was ready to fire him.”

“Fire me?!” Woody says, pretending to be indignant. In the summer, he has a business putting up tents for outdoor weddings and receptions. In the winter, he’s a ski bum, waitering some for his dad. It was his idea to order out most of the food—so that Rudy and all his staff could take the night off and enjoy themselves. But as the guest list grew, Mami and Tía Lola worriedly added “potluck” to the party invitation. Now there will be enough leftovers to feed the whole town for the rest of the week.

The cake comes out—a replica of Rudy’s restaurant, with a white picket fence around the border formed by his sixty candles.

Everyone sings “Happy Birthday.” Except for Tía Lola,
who sings
“Feliz Cumpleaños,”
which is the same song, only in Spanish. Then, after a bunch of people remind Rudy to make a wish and another bunch remind him not to tell anyone his wish or it won’t come true, everyone insists that he give a speech.

“I’m not much on public speaking,” Rudy begs off, but his guests are insistent.

Finally, he gives in. “Okay, okay! Where to start? Let’s see. As some of you know, it’s now almost six years since Rita died.…”

Rudy’s voice has gone all soft and gravelly. Woody, too, is suddenly finding great interest in his boots.

“I just knew I had to make a change. All my life, I’d worked nine to five at the auto supply store, and I had some good years there, Mikey,” he says, nodding toward a chipmunk-cheeked man stuffing a piece of birthday cake in his mouth. “But I needed to start over. I always liked cooking. Rita used to say I wore the apron in the family. So I thought, Why not? I needed the company bad. This place saved my life.”

The room is suddenly very quiet. Miguel glances over at Tía Lola, who is wiping tears from her eyes. When she is done with her handkerchief, she hands it over to Mami, who dabs her eyes and passes it on to Carmen, who is blinking back tears. Miguel can’t believe his rough-and-ready baseball coach would be so sappy. But then, Rudy is the first to say that a strong man shouldn’t be afraid of his own feelings.

“Not only did I make it through those hard times,”
Rudy continues, “but I’ve had a heck of a good time. Only one thing hasn’t been quite to my liking.…”

Rudy pauses for effect, but the twinkle in his eye suggests that whatever dissatisfaction he’s going to confess won’t be anything major. “I’ve never liked the name Rudy’s.” When a bunch of folks protest that they love the name, Rudy holds up his hands. “I’ve already decided. Listen up. I’m naming the place after you—that’s right. You guys got me through, and that includes some new friends, now not so new.” Rudy looks over at Mami and Tía Lola, who bow their heads modestly at the compliment they see coming.

“These two lovely ladies have taught me a bunch of recipes, and also a whole lot about friendship. So I thought Amigos Café would be a great name, to thank them and you and to remind us all of our warm southern neighbors, especially during these cold winter months!”

Everyone hoots and claps. After the noise dies down, old Colonel Charlebois bangs his cane on the floor to get everyone’s attention.

“I would like to propose a toast!” he says, holding up his water glass. “To Rudy, who has created a gathering place for this town and given some of us who hadn’t had a taste of home cooking in a long time the opportunity to eat well and gain back some lost pounds. But best of all has been the chance to renew old friendships and make some new ones. Hear! Hear!”

By the time the party is over, even Papi, who thought Mami was depriving his kids by moving them out of
New York City, is a convert. “I can see why you love this place,” he admits as they walk to the car.

“It’s a great place to live!” Carmen echoes.

“That’s because we’re with the people we love,” Juanita speaks up. It’s some old lesson Tía Lola once taught them.

“Except for Papi,” Miguel reminds her.

His father reaches over and ruffles Miguel’s hair fondly, stirring up a little halo of snowflakes. Appropriate for a boy whose middle name is Ángel.

The next morning, Papi shows up all by himself. “Let’s just us three go for breakfast together. We’ll swing by and pick up Carmen at the B&B on our way back. Sound good?”

Juanita is disappointed. “Why can’t Carmen come, too?”

“Because it’s just going to be our family, right, Papi?” Miguel looks up hopefully at his father. But instead of the fond smile of last night, Papi winces as if he’s in pain.

“Families grow, families change,” Papi says quietly. It sounds like another of Tía Lola’s sayings.

And that’s what he wants to talk about once they have sat down at the diner and the waitress has taken their order. They would have gone to Rudy’s, but the restaurant will be closed for a whole week for a remodeling to go with the new name. Stargazer, who owns a
local gift shop, and some of her artist friends will be painting murals on the inside walls—tropical jungle scenes that will make Señor Burro and Mr. Flamingo and the palm tree feel right at home. It was announced last night at the party.

“I learned a lot from being married to your mother,” Papi begins. He is folding and refolding his napkin like it’s some origami project the waitress gave him to do while he’s waiting for his breakfast. “What can I say? We were kids when we got married. I, especially, had a lot of growing up to do. Too caught up with my own career as an artist, which wasn’t getting off the ground. I was depressed. I admit I wasn’t the best husband.”

Oh boy, Miguel thinks. It’s always worrisome when your parents take the long way down memory lane.

“Your mother made a lot of sacrifices. It was she who finished college and got her master’s and held down a job so I could paint.” The napkin has been folded down to such a tiny square, it might just disappear. Maybe it’s not an origami project but a magic vanishing act, Miguel thinks, wishing he could vanish. He doesn’t want to think about what’s coming.

“It’s really because of the mistakes I made that I’m sure I’ll be a much better husband the second time around.”

“So are you and Mami going to get married again?” Juanita asks excitedly. But suddenly, her face falls. “What about Carmen?”

Papi smiles in spite of himself.

“No, no,
mi’jita
,” Papi tells his little daughter. “Mami
and I—Our marriage, well, it’s over. Sometimes we make mistakes and there’s no going back to correct them. But we can learn from them and make better choices in the future.”

“Like me losing the treasure hunt for my team but learning to pay attention,” Juanita says, nodding.

“Exactly.” Papi nods back, even though he can’t know what Juanita is talking about. But Papi doesn’t wait for an explanation. Soon the weekend will be over. He has some important news for them. “So, what I want to tell you is that I’m ready to be married.”

A long silence follows this statement. Miguel attacks his own napkin, except instead of folding and refolding it, he is twisting it tight, wringing its neck.

“So, what do you kids think of Carmen?” Papi asks, like he’s changing the subject to some totally unrelated question.

At least Juanita doesn’t seem to catch on. “I love Carmen!” She says it so loud that some people turn in their booths to see what the little brown girl is so excited about.

“And you,
mi’jo
?” Papi asks delicately after waiting some seconds to hear what Miguel has to say.

But Miguel can’t seem to find his tongue. He looks down at the napkin in his lap. He has managed to rip it apart, and has a piece in each hand.

“S’okay,
mi’jo
,” Papi says. “I understand you need to get used to the idea. But it would mean a lot to me if you
could learn to love Carmen. She thinks the world of you, you know.”

Miguel nods but keeps his head down. She thinks the world of the whole world, he wants to say. But he knows that would hurt his
papi
.