CHAPTER 25

“She hasn’t even been born yet, and my niece is already being a drama queen, demanding everyone’s attention. The Alvarez force is strong with this one,” I say with a smirk after walking into Pilar’s bedroom to find her lying in bed propped up on what looks to be every pillow in the house, with Mamá, Ana, and two of the aunts hovering over her.

Pilar gives me a weak smile. “I think this baby’s going to give us all a run for our money.”

“How are you feeling?” I ask, bending down to give my sister a kiss on the cheek.

“I’m okay.”

“She is most certainly not okay!” Mamá exclaims. “She has an abrupt placenta, which is very serious. I never had that, or any other complications, with my pregnancies; I was perfectly healthy. Why? Because I didn’t work or push myself too hard like this one does.” She purses her lips disapprovingly at Pilar who shakes her head.

“Plenty of women work all the way up until their delivery dates, Mamá.”

“What the hell is an abrupt placenta?” That’s a medical term I’ve never heard before, but then I do my best to avoid any discussion of pregnancy or related womb parts.

“Language, mija! The baby can hear you.” My mother gives me an admonishing look, and I roll my eyes at her.

“She doesn’t have an abrupt placenta,” Ana, the know-it-all, corrects Mamá. “She has a partial placental abruption, which means there’s been a separation of the placenta from the uterine lining in one area. I had that with Theo.”

“So, it’s something that happens to older women when they’re knocked up?”

“Hey!” Pilar protests. “Who are you calling old?”

“You’re thirty-six, and according to The Mindy Project, this,” I wave my hand over her distended stomach, “would be categorized as a geriatric pregnancy.”

“That’s not necessarily the cause of this condition. I was only thirty-three when I had Theo,” Ana says.

“Yeah, but I’m sure your body thought you were older because of all the wear and tear, so it just behaved accordingly,” I snark.

Ana glares at me, her hands balling into fists at her sides, and I glare right back. Before things can escalate, Pilar breaks the tension by announcing, “My mouth is really dry. Could someone please hand me my water?”

“Of course, mija, the doctor did say it was important for you to stay hydrated.” Mamá hands her the bottle of Evian sitting on the bedside table.

“You should eat. I will go heat up a bowl of the fricasé de pollo I brought,” Aunt Brigida declares.

Drina immediately vetoes that idea. “¡No seas absurda! She does not want to eat stew on a hot summer day when she’s not feeling well. She needs to eat something light. I will make her a plantain omelette. That was her favorite when she was a child.”

“Ooooo, a plantain omelette sounds good. I’ll take one, too.” Dropping down on the bed next to my sister, I kick off my shoes and settle back against the pillows with her. When I realize everyone is gaping at me, I say, “What? I’m hungry. I had to leave half of a perfectly good Cuban sandwich behind at Bachour when I got Mamá’s hysterical text about Pilar.”

“I will make you both a Cubano!” Drina asserts.

“Gracias, tía, but I’m not really in the moo—”

“Everyone knows my Cubanos are better than yours,” Brigida cuts Pilar off, more interested in one-upping her sister than in hearing what the patient wants. “You always try to get creative with the sandwich and mess it up.”

“I do not! Adding grilled onions only enhances the flavor of the Cubano, as does using Brie cheese instead of Swiss. You are too stuck in your ways, mi hermana. You need to expand your culinary horizons.”

“I don’t think we have any leftover pork in the—”

Drina waves a hand dismissively at Pilar. “We will make it from scratch if we have to.”

“With your boring mojo sauce?” Brigida scoffs. “I think not!” The sisters continue to squabble as they leave the room.

“¡Ay!” Mamá throws her hands in the air. “I thought they’d never leave. I don’t know why your papá told them what was happening with Pilar. They’re such busybodies. Of course, they had to run right over here to get all the gossip and try to push their heavy food on Pilar and her niños, like I couldn’t cook for my own children and grandchildren if they needed me to!”

Ignoring my miffed mother, I turn to Pilar. “So, you’re stuck on bed rest now?” Ford told me this when he answered the door, looking exhausted and stressed. (Not sure if that was because of the unexpected trip to the hospital with his wife and unborn child, or because he’s now got a houseful of Alvarez women.) He couldn’t say much more because Gabi was clinging to his pant leg.

Pilar makes a face. “There’s an increased chance of a premature birth with this abruption, so Dr. Guerra wants to keep me on bed rest as a precaution and she’ll monitor me closely until the due date.”

“And Pilar’s supposed to avoid any kind of exertion or stress until the baby comes,” Mamá adds.

“No exertion?” I frown. “Does that mean no sex? If so, I’d get a second opinion. Five weeks is a long time to go without.”

“Just goes to show what you know,” Ana says irritably. “The last thing a woman wants when she’s eight months pregnant is sex.”

“Speak for yourself,” Pilar and Mamá retort in unison.

“Ew, really?” Ana looks at them both as if they’re locas. “I wouldn’t even let Raymond sleep in the same bed with me once I hit the third trimester.” She shudders with revulsion at the thought.

“It really is a miracle you managed to get pregnant as many times as you did,” I remark dryly.

“And I’m amazed you’ve managed not to get pregnant with all the slutting around you do,” Ana sneers.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about since I’m a happily engaged woman.” I hold up my left hand and wiggle my fingers, including the one with my big, fat engagement ring, in front of her.

“Yeah, right. We’ll see how long that lasts.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I scowl up at her.

“No fighting por favor. It makes me feel stressed.”

Putting her hands on her hips (a sure sign that a lecture is forthcoming), Mamá glowers at Ana and me and says, “You two should be ashamed of yourselves. Antagonizing each other when your poor sister is on her sickbed, worrying about the health of her precious child.”

“Sorry,” Ana and I both mumble a sheepish apology.

“It’s okay,” Pilar absolves us. “And I’m really not that worried. I’m sure the baby will be fine even if she comes early. I just hate that this placenta problem is taking me out of commission when I have so much to do with work, the house, the kids—”

“You can palm your patients off on another shrink, can’t you?” I would have done that already if I was her.

Pilar crinkles her brow. “Yes, but most therapists have full schedules. I’ll have to divide my patients up amongst Ford, Dr. Brooks, who’d already agreed to help out during my maternity leave, and maybe Dr. Cortés. But I want to make sure I match each of my patients up with a doctor they’ll feel comfortable with in my absence.”

“What do you pay that receptionist of yours for?” Mamá wonders. “Surely she can handle calling these other doctors and rescheduling patients for you.”

Pilar sighs. “I guess, but it’s a lot to ask of Margo and I really should oversee—”

“No!” Our mother holds up her hand. “You must learn to delegate and let others do for you. As for the children, you will have to get some back-up for Mrs. Romero, a second nanny to help out on the nights and weekends, one who will clean and cook.”

“My neighbor’s daughter is taking a lighter courseload at college this semester, and she’s been looking for a part-time job,” Ana tells us. “I could see if she’d be interested since you’ll pay her a lot more than she’d get working retail.”

Mamá smiles with satisfaction. “Everything’s taken care of then. You can just relax and focus on yourself and mi nieta.”

Pilar looks anything but relaxed, her shoulders are all bunched up by her ears and now frown lines have joined her forehead furrows for a wrinkle party on her face.

“I feel like I’m forgetting something important, something I started making a list about the other day, it’s so hard to hang onto a thought with my brain being all fogged up by hormones these days . . .,” Pilar trails off, tapping her chin. “¡Ay, Dios mío!” She sits bolt upright in bed, her eyes wide with panic. “Gabi’s birthday party! It’s two weeks from Saturday, and I’ve done nothing but send out the invitations.”

Our mother shrugs. “You will have to cancel. You can’t have a house full of screaming children when you’re supposed to be resting.”

“But it’s her fifth birthday, Mamá. That’s a big milestone for a little girl, and she’s been so excited about having all her friends over.”

“It would suck if you had to disappoint her,” I concur. “And if you tell her the reason she’s not getting a party is because of the new baby, Gabi will hate the kid before she’s even born.”

“Oh, gosh, I hadn’t even thought about that, but you’re right, Gabi’s already been acting jealous. The other night Ford and I were working on the nursery, and I found Mullida, that stuffed bunny she loved so much when she was a toddler, tucked away in a box. It’s missing an ear now and is more of a dingy gray than white, but I thought since the toy used to mean so much to Gabi, it would be sweet to pass it on to the baby. She had a fit about it, though. She started screaming, ‘Mine! Mine! Mine!’ then she grabbed the bunny and ran to the bathroom, where she locked herself in and tried to flush Mullida down the toilet, all because she didn’t want her little sister to have it.”

“That sounds like something Izzy would have done at that age,” Ana says. “Sharing was a concept she never quite grasped. Taking, on the other hand . . .”

“Maybe if you hadn’t been so stingy, I wouldn’t have had to steal your stuff.”

“And maybe if you weren’t a spoiled brat who thought she had a right to everything she set her greedy, little eyes—”

“Ay, enough! Your endless bickering is giving me a headache.” Mamá presses her red-tipped fingers to her temples. “I’m going to have to lie down with a cold compress.” With that pronouncement, she heads off to Pilar’s bathroom.

“So, give me a list of parents’ names and phone numbers for the kids you invited to Gabi’s party and I’ll call to let everyone know it’s off,” Ana tells Pilar.

“Hello, have you been listening?” I ask. “In the interest of peaceful sisterly relations, we can’t cancel the party. Besides, it wouldn’t be fair to Gabi. She was promised an awesome birthday bash, and that’s what she’s going to get.”

“Well, sorry, but I don’t have the time to plan and execute a child’s birthday party on such short notice when I’m already juggling my own kids and their thousand different activities.”

“Good thing no one asked you then,” I snap back. “In lieu of her mother, it’s obvious that I should be the one to put on Gabi’s party since I’m her favorite aunt and I’m an expert on fun, girly stuff.”

“Are you now?” Ana crosses her arms and looks down her nose at me. “So, you think you can handle coming up with a theme for this party, ordering and/or making the refreshments, putting up decorations, providing entertainment, and putting together goody bags for all the kids?”

Uh oh, that sounds like a lot of work. What have I gotten myself into?

“Why are you still talking about a party?” Mamá returns, clutching a bottle of aspirin and holding a wet washcloth to her brow. “I thought we’d already decided this. Ford can take Gabi out for ice cream on her birthday; that will be enough of a celebration. She doesn’t need some big extravaganza at her age.”

“Izzy thinks she does, and she’s volunteered to run the whole show.” Ana’s got such an annoyingly smug expression on her face right now; I just want to smack it off! She’s so sure I’m going to screw this up. I’ll show her!

“Ay, Isidora, what do you know about children’s birthday parties? You can’t order a keg from Mister Beer Express and ask one of your friends to DJ for a bunch of five-year-olds.”

A DJ isn’t a half-bad idea. Kids like loud music just as much as adults do, right? Of course, I wouldn’t serve alcohol at a children’s party, but maybe I could fill a keg with Kool-Aid. Just spitballing here . . .

“I promise, this rager will be age-appropriate, Mamá.”

With a disgusted snort, Ana says to Pilar, “She just referred to your young, impressionable daughter’s party as a ‘rager.’ Are you sure this is the way you want to go? It’s a disaster-in-the-making if you ask me.”

“Once again, no one asked you! So, stop being such a Negative Nelly, or you’ll find your name removed from the guest list for this very exclusive party.”

“Please,” Ana scoffs. “What are you going to do? Have a bouncer at the door?”

“Good idea! I will need someone to keep out the undesirables.” I give my eldest sister a pointed look.

“Pilar!”

“She’s kidding,” Pilar says placatingly. “You are kidding, right?” she whispers as an aside to me.

“Maybe. Maybe not. But I don’t want you to worry about a thing. I’ve got this. Just have Ford roll you out to the back yard on Gabi’s big day, and I’ll take care of the rest.”

Man, I hope I can pull this off—for Gabi’s sake, and for Pilar’s since she’s the only one in this family who thinks I’m capable and I don’t want to let her down.