Mandy winced as she stretched out her arms and legs, waiting at the baggage claim in the tiny Los Cazadores airport. Her gorgeous, petite daughter Aimée sometimes forgot that her mother was larger than she was; the seats on the airline were tight for anyone above a size zero. But Mandy couldn't complain. Her daughter had bought her a ticket out to the California coast, and the kind of vacation she'd never been able to afford herself.
Mandy was proud of her daughter. She'd gone to college early, and been snapped up into some kind of internship at one of the big East Coast investment companies – an internship that paid a salary, which blew Mandy's mind. She was earning more than Mandy ever had. If nothing else, all Mandy's fears about not being a good mother, not giving her daughter the tools to succeed, had been proven wrong. But now Mandy had time to look at her own life, and wonder what she was going to do.
She'd never had a college experience. She'd dropped out of high school to have Aimée, and while all her friends went on to party and learn and get careers, she'd changed diapers and wrangled child care and looked for jobs that would only keep her during school hours. And now friends who had grown as distant as strangers showed up on Facebook with their newlywed photos, while she wondered who would want someone like her.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she reached in to silence it. Given the time zones back east, it wouldn't be Aimée. And the only other people who would text her weren't people she wanted to hear from.
All around her in the airport were people who probably had their lives together. Tourist couples and businessmen and the like. When the conveyor belt rumbled and brought her old, faded purple luggage to her, she grabbed the suitcases and hurried out the doors.
Los Cazadores! Aimée had said that the place was magical. That it had a reputation for helping people find exactly what they needed.
Mandy didn't believe that. She'd left magic behind when the magical boy of her high school fantasies had turned out to be a dud, and run from the responsibility of raising their daughter. But the town was pretty, she'd admit that much.
The streets were wide, and palm trees swayed in the streets' islands. The houses were mostly white stucco and adobe, glowing in the near-equatorial light. Many of them were crowned with the red shingles she'd been able to glimpse on the flight in.
The air was fresh, carrying the smell of the sea. The sky was a deep blue that almost looked like she could dip a paintbrush in it.
It felt like a city for young people and movie stars.
Since leaving high school, she'd always felt old. Older than her peers, at least: a stranger to them. They'd had college and careers and bright new futures; she'd had motherhood and a GED and relying on her parents far more than she'd ever wanted to. She loved her daughter more than life itself, but fate had set Mandy's feet on a path none of her then-friends had walked down. And as a result, she was alone.
What was Los Cazadores supposed to offer her?
It was a lovely little town, but it was like every other lovely little town. The concrete parking lot outside the little airport was no more magical than any other parking lot, and the gas station across the street wasn't, either.
But even if it wouldn't be the answer to all her desires, Mandy could at least enjoy her vacation.
First things first: she was hungry. She'd refused to pay exorbitant prices for mediocre food on the plane, or in the airports. She reached into her purse to reassure herself that the gift credit card her daughter had given her was still there, and then walked up to a cab waiting at the airport for new arrivals.
"Is there a good place to eat nearby?" she asked, through the window. "Inexpensive."
The driver smiled broadly at her. He was dark-skinned, with a turban curled around his dark hair, but his English was impeccable.
"First time in Los Cazadores? I know just the place, ma'am. Please, hop right in."