CHAPTER 37

When the door to my parents’ condo opens to reveal Mamá standing in the entryway, I’m so surprised that I blurt out, “Why are you here?”

“Where else would I be? Está es mi casa, isn’t it?” She crosses her arms over her décolletage, which is being shown to great advantage by her off-the-shoulder top. She’s paired the top with some cute, patterned palazzo pants I could actually see myself wearing.

“Yes, but you said yesterday that your cuticles were in ‘dreadful’ condition and you were going to book a Moroccan oil treatment for your nails this morning.”

Pursing her ruby red-glossed lips with irritation, Mamá says, “Teresa can’t see me until Tuesday. You’d think she would’ve rescheduled one of her appointments today and given me that slot since this is an emergency and I am one of her most loyal clients, but no, she refused to help, the ungrateful girl. I have half a mind to take my business elsewhere!”

“You should totally do that,” I advise as I brush past her into the foyer. “Why don’t I call my manicurist, Lucía, and see if she can squeeze you in? You might have to wait at the salon for an hour or so . . .” I’m already scrolling through the contacts list on my cell phone.

“Why are you trying to get rid of me?” Mamá narrows her dark eyes in my direction.

“I’m not.” I play it cool so as not to arouse her suspicions any further. “I just thought I’d offer you another option. It doesn’t bother me if you want to go around with raggedy cuticles for the next few days.” I stick my phone back in my purse. “Is Papá around? I need to speak with him.”

“About?”

I’m sorely tempted to say, “None of your beeswax,” but I refrain.

“Oh, you know, nothing in particular. I just thought it would be nice to have a little padre e hija chat.”

Mamá nods knowingly. “You need more money for the wedding, don’t you? I told Arturo fifty thousand wasn’t going to be enough for a grand-scale affair befitting a man of Eduardo’s stature. Come, we will talk to your father together,” she throws an arm around my shoulders and starts herding me toward the living room. “He cannot say ‘no’ to both of us.”

“Uh . . . I really think I should speak with him alone.” Especially since the topic I had in mind is one that will probably induce hysterics in Mamá.

She stops in the center of the empty living room and turns to me with a resolute expression. “No one knows how to handle your father better than I do. I will make him see reason about the wedding budget. Trust me, mija.”

Okay, so there’s no dissuading her. Guess I’m going to have to suck it up and hope for the best. My mother was going to find out eventually anyway, right? I was kind of hoping that my father would tell her long after I was gone, but I guess this will work, too. I offer Mamá a halfhearted smile before following her out to the terrace.

“Arturo,” she trills as we step outside, “look who’s dropped by for a visit, our beautiful bride-to-be!”

He glances up from his laptop, his reading glasses perched on the tip of his not insubstantial nose. “Isidora!” A grin stretches across his tanned face, making the crinkles at the corners of his eyes fan out. “How nice!” He holds an arm out to me, and I hurry over to give him a kiss on the cheek.

“If you can spare a few minutes, there’s something I’d like to discuss with you, Papá.”

“I always have time for you, mija. Have a seat.” He indicates the chair to his left at the table.

“I’ll stand if it’s all the same to you.” I feel like my presentation will be more impressive if I’m vertical while making it.

I’m just about to dip my hand into my purse to pull out the visual aid I brought to support my case when Mamá grabs the appendage and screeches in alarm, “Where’s your ring? Don’t tell me you lost it already! How could you be so careless with such a valuable piece of jewelry? Ay, look at this Arturo!” She sticks my unadorned hand in Papá’s face. “Your daughter has lost her engagement ring!”

My father’s brow puckers with concern. “I hope Eduardo insured it. Otherwise, he’s going to be out a lot of money.”

Yanking my hand back, I shout, “I did not lose the ring!” because it’s annoying to be blamed for a crime I didn’t even commit. “I’m no longer wearing it because the engagement is off.”

I expect my mother to fall to the ground, weeping and rending her garments, instead she plants her hands on her hips and glares at me. “What did you do?”

“Nothing.” Unless you count sleeping with another man, which I don’t since Eduardo’s still in the dark about that. “We just realized that we weren’t going to be compatible in the long run and decided to call it a day.”

“Call it a day?” Mamá repeats my words in disbelief. “Call it a day!!!!! What nonsense is this? I did not raise a quitter. If you and Eduardo have problems, you work them out, you don’t toss aside el hombre perfecto. Ay!” She throws her hands in the air in despair. “Where did I go wrong with this one?” she asks the terrace covering.

“I didn’t love him, Mamá. I thought it didn’t matter, that his good looks and money would be enough, but they weren’t. And Eduardo didn’t love me beyond all this . . .” I indicate my face and body with a sweeping gesture. “Don’t you want me to be with someone I truly care about and vice versa, someone who’ll be with me through thick and thin? That’s what you and Papá have. Pilar and Ford, too.”

“Love doesn’t always strike like a lightning bolt, mija. In some cases, it grows over time. Why don’t you marry Eduardo and see what happens?”

“Luisa . . .” There’s censure in my father’s tone.

“Oh, all right!” my mother concedes, with a pout. “But now I won’t have any place to wear that gorgeous mother-of-the-bride gown I bought, and it’s so flattering. The coral color makes my skin look like burnished gold, and the trailing scarf over the shoulder is muy dramático. The people at Alexander McQueen really know how to design a dress!” She sighs dreamily.

“Alexander McQueen?” My father eyes her warily. “Exactly how much did you spend on this dress?”

Mamá smiles uneasily, baring all her teeth. “It was on sale.”

“Luisa . . .”

“I had to have a gown that would be on par with whatever designer dress Maria Sandoval trotted out for the occasion, didn’t I?”

“How much?” he queries again.

“Thirty-two hundred,” she admits sheepishly.

Most men would lose their temper in this situation, but that’s not my father’s style. He merely grips the arms of his chair before saying in a stern voice, “You will return the gown today.”

Mamá winces. “No puedo. It was a final sale.”

“Then it falls to you, Isidora. You must marry someone in a big, extravagant ceremony so that your mother will have somewhere to wear this overpriced dress,” my father deadpans.

“Sorry, can’t help you. I’ve decided that if I ever do get married, I’m going to save everyone a lot of time, trouble, and money and elope.”

“Elope?” my mother squeaks, clutching her chest.

“Uh, yeah,” I forge ahead before she can start moaning about me giving her palpitations. “And if you’re okay with it, Papá, I’d like to take that fifty grand you allotted for my wedding and invest it in a business I’m planning to start.”

“A business?” My mother looks at me like I’m a Cubanito short of a plato de fiesta. “Why do you need one of those? You have your modeling career.”

“Not so much. According to my agent, I’m no longer a viable property in the modeling industry because of my age. So, I need to transition into something else. And I think this,” I pull the tangerine-colored report cover from my purse, “is the way to go.” I hand the report over to my father.

“A business plan?” He nods approvingly. “Very impressive, mija.”

“What type of business?” Mamá wants to know. Moving behind my father, she leans down over his shoulder to read the cover page. “Parties by Izzy? That sounds like an escort service, and not a very high-priced one either.” She sniffs with disdain.

“It’s just a working name. I was also thinking about Izzybrations.”

“Better,” my mother decrees.

Papá frowns. “I think your original idea is best as it lets people know in a more straightforward manner what service you’re offering.”

“But Izzybrations is more memorable, and isn’t that what you want in a business name?” Mamá smiles smugly, knowing she’s made a good point.

“We’ll come back to the name,” Papá says, flipping to the table of contents, which he quickly peruses. “A mission statement, description of services, marketing plan, and competitor analysis. This is excellent work, mija. Your business plan looks very professional.”

His praise makes me blush. “Gracias, Papá. I worked closely with my vice president of strategic planning on it.”

“And who is this VP?” my father wonders.

“Nate.”

Papá responds with a smirk while my mother sputters, “B-b-b-but he’s only eleven!”

“And he’s smarter and more enterprising than most of the executives I know.” Papá champions his grandson, then raises inquisitive eyes to mine. “Why party planning, mija? I don’t recall you expressing interest in this line of work before.”

“I caught the bug when I was putting Gabi’s birthday party together. It was a lot of work, but I enjoyed every second of it and I think Mamá will agree that the end result was pretty spectacular. Truthfully, I didn’t know I had it in me to be so efficient and well-organized, not to mention creative, and the whole experience was very fulfilling. I’d love to be able to help other people make their celebrations unique and memorable, and I have the resources and the know-how to do that. Party planning just seems like a natural fit. If there’s one thing that can be said about me, it’s that I know how to have good time.”

“You do realize that running a business won’t be all fun and games, don’t you? You will have to apply yourself and make sacrifices if you want to succeed. And it won’t happen overnight. It takes a start-up business, on average, two to three years to turn a profit.”

Well, that’s a daunting little factoid and I’m sure my father is sharing it with me to test my resolve, but I must stay the course. Being a party planner feels right, and I will do everything in my power to make it work.

Lifting my chin defiantly, I say, “I’ve never been average and I don’t plan to start now. I bet I can turn a profit in one year.”

“And for that year you will have to live like a pauper! No shopping, no beauty treatments, no expensive cocktails or meals out.” Mamá shakes her head. “You were not meant for such deprivation, mija. Please reconsider marrying Eduardo so that you can have the comfortable life you deserve.”

“But I won’t deserve it unless I earn it, will I? I’ve been taking the easy way out my whole life. I’ve been lazy, I’ve been self-entitled, and I’ve been a mooch. That might have been cute in my twenties, but I think it’s time for me to grow up and show the world what I’m really capable of.”

Both parents gape at me in astonishment, probably wondering if I’ve been body snatched by an alien who hails from a planet where level-headedness and hard work are prized. I kind of shocked myself with that little speech, too. I actually admitted I have faults and I want to change and better myself. I sounded self-aware and dare I say, mature? I guess my experiences over the last few months had more of an effect on me than I realized.

Finding his voice again, Papá says, “I always knew you had the potential to do great things, mija, and I am pleased to see you realizing that potential. You may have the wedding money to start your business, and I will kick in another twenty-five thousand to give you the best possible chance of success.”

And I wasn’t even angling for more money!

With a squeal, I throw my arms around my father’s neck and hug him. “Thank you, Papá! You’re the best!”

“What about me? Am I not also the best?” my mother asks in a miffed tone.

I raise an eyebrow. “Do I have your support in this new venture?”

“It’s a risk.”

“Life would be pretty dull without those, wouldn’t it?”

She capitulates with a beleaguered exhalation of breath. “Fine. You have my support, but only if you use the name Izzybrations and you let me have final approval on the logo. I see champagne glasses next to the company name with streamers and confetti raining down and lots of sparkle and glitz. Maybe you could do gold foil lettering. Metallics are always very eye-catching.”

“I like it!” Really, I do. Once in a blue moon, my mother and I are actually on the same wavelength. “And it’d be great if you could spread the word about Izzybrations to all your friends, especially the ones who have special events coming up.”

“Ooooooo!” Mamá claps her hands together excitedly. “Rosalinda Borrego, who lives on the fourteenth floor, hosted our cubilete game last Wednesday and while we were playing, she mentioned that she and her husband are going to be throwing a quinceañera for their granddaughter because the girl’s perezoso father can’t afford to and Rosalinda wasn’t sure how to go about it. I’m sure she’d be happy to hire you to handle all the details.

And I heard through the grapevine that Conchita Ramos was not happy with her Winter Wonderland-themed Christmas party last year, which is no surprise because it was a complete disaster. There was a mishap with the fake snow blower, and white flakes were exploding all over the ballroom. It was like being in a blizzard! Those nasty flakes got in everyone’s food and drinks, and a couple of people slipped and fell.” Putting her hand up next to her mouth, my mother adds in an exaggerated whisper, “A lawsuit is still pending.”

“Wow, okay, so you think she’ll still want to go ahead with a party this holiday season?”

“Of course! She’s La Reina de la Navidad here in Miami and she won’t want anyone else to take that title away from her. I will call Conchita and set up a meeting for you. And I should probably go to that meeting, too, so I can help you with ideas for the party. Fun!” she exclaims, then hurries back into the condo before I can protest that Izzybrations will be my business, and I really don’t need for her to be involved outside of sending potential clients my way.

I look to my father, and he shrugs. “At least she’ll work for free.”