How Tía Lola Ended Up Starting Over (18 page)

“But I still don’t get why you’d keep your birthday a secret.” Essie would never in a zillion years hide her birthday from anybody.

Tía Lola sighs, glancing over at Linda, who understands. Tía Lola has been hiding her birthday all her life so as not to cause her niece any expense or bother.

“But those hard days are over, Tía Lola,” Linda says in a tender voice. “We’re not rich, Tía Lola, but we have enough now to celebrate the people we love.” And then Mami tells Tía Lola the whole truth: the big party next weekend will also be for her.

“But you can’t run away, Tía Lola!” Essie warns. “Or we’ll kill you.”

Run away? How can she? Tía Lola is still responsible for the colonel’s half of the birthday party next Saturday.

Miguel has been devouring his cake, sharing a dollop of frosting with the president of the Distraction Committee. “How about my
ñapa
, Tía Lola?” he says, holding up his empty plate. This prompts Cari to ask what a nappy is—she thought it was a diaper. Miguel explains, and soon all the kids are clamoring for their
ñapas
, until the cake is gone.

Except for one lone candle sitting among crumbs on the platter. No one can be enticed to take it for future use. The whole
familia
, including Tía Lola, have had their fill
of making wishes. Wishes can be risky, they can backfire on you. But
ñapas
are a sure bet. All you are asking for is a little bit more of what has already proved to be a good thing. Another slice of excellent cake. A few more pages of a story before it finally comes to an end.

Saturday afternoon, a week later. The house is bustling with activity. A crew is rearranging the furniture: pushing the dining-room table to one side and adding several card tables for the buffet to be laid out. A large picnic basket sits at one end holding the utensils: napkins wrapped around gleaming silver forks and knives.

Outside, snow is beginning to fall. Christmas is coming in less than two weeks. All down Main Street, the lampposts are strung with holiday lights, and every shop window has a Santa or a Christmas tree. At the library, with its four columns sporting red bows, the librarian turns the
OPEN
sign around to
CLOSED
at the door.

This evening, the shops are all closing early. Everyone is rushing home to change and put the finishing touches on their potluck contributions for the big party at Tía Lola’s B&B. Salads and soups, homemade breads and casseroles galore. The desserts look like beauty contestants, vying to outshine each other, some frothy with icing, others exotically dark and chocolatey, still others studded with bits of candied fruit like jewels. They all deserve crowns.

Out in the snowy driveway in front of Colonel Charlebois’s house, Stargazer and her friends are unloading Tía Lola’s gift from the back of Rudy’s pickup. Earlier,
two posts were driven into the ground, each with a slot for holding the sign in place. Tía Lola had looked up from scrubbing a pot in the kitchen. “What is that hammering?” Miguel managed to convince his aunt that the banging was just the sound of furniture being pushed to one side of the parlor to make room for all their guests.

Tía Lola is hurriedly finishing up her cooking to free up the oven for warming the guests’ contributions when they come. But just in case she should decide to wander toward the front of the house, the Distraction Committee has devised an alarm system: Miguel is posted by the door, blocking the way out of the kitchen. Behind him lies Valentino, like a speed bump. If all else fails, Miguel will stall, Valentino will bark, and Essie will open the front parlor window and holler: DUCK!

Out front, the sign is finally in place, a white sheet draped over it. As the snow accumulates on top, the surprise gift starts looking like a body waiting to be buried.

Or so Essie comments to the colonel as they stand guard by the parlor window.

“So, my party will be a funeral after all. Just not my own, thank God.” The colonel chuckles, Essie giggles, and soon they are both laughing hysterically.

Back in the kitchen, Tía Lola is waiting for her
pastelón
, a tasty chicken casserole, to come out of the oven. She cleans her hands on her apron and heads toward the front of the house.

Miguel blocks her passage. “Where are you going, Tía Lola?”

“What do you mean, where am I going? To check on the
coronel
, of course.”

“The colonel is fine,” Miguel says quickly. “Essie’s with him.”

“That is what I am worried about,” Tía Lola says, stepping over her favorite
mascota
. Mix Essie with the colonel and you have the ingredients for trouble. But no sooner is Tía Lola halfway down the hall than Valentino has a major barking meltdown. Tía Lola turns her attention to the dog, but just then the phone rings. It’s one of the guests. They might be a little late on account of the snow has really started coming down. By the time Tía Lola hangs up and heads for the parlor, the oven timer is beeping. Her casserole is done.

The snow keeps falling. It’s as if someone has shaken a snow globe, at the center of which sits a small town full of happy people. From the far corners of their little world they are coming together to celebrate two legends: An old colonel who spent his life serving in the army but finally came back to his hometown to serve in whatever way he can. And then, another legendary figure: a remarkable, lively lady from the Dominican Republic who in less than two years has brought this community together.

They drive in from the countryside: the Magoons, all five of them, with a wheelchair covered with a tarp in back; Tom and Becky, the sheep farmers, in fresh coveralls, comb marks still showing in their wet hair; Margaret and Odette and Henny, each bearing a recipe Margaret wanted to try out from a tribe she has studied. “Don’t worry,” she
assures the children. “No tarantulas or locusts or human flesh among the ingredients.” She winks at Miguel, who recently asked her if she’d ever eaten a human being. “Not on purpose,” she replied disconcertingly.

Last night, to avoid the predicted snowfall, Papi and Carmen drove up from New York City with Abuelito and Abuelita. Ming was going to come, but her parents were afraid that with the bad weather, they might be stranded in Vermont forever. “Which would make me totally happy,” Ming confessed to Juanita over the phone. She was ready to run away, but Juanita talked her out of it.

As the guests start arriving, Tía Lola greets them at the door.
“¡Sorpresa!”
she cries, totally surprising
them
. So, Tía Lola found out about her party after all.

“We gave her her surprise last week. It was my idea,” Cari adds because Papa never remembers to say so.

“Tía Lola, we do have one last surprise,” Miguel announces. Earlier, the children voted him to be their spokesperson, maybe to make up for the fact that he will soon be the only boy in their combined
familia
. Miguel has climbed up to the landing on the stairs. It’s the only way to get the attention of this noisy congregation. “It’s your surprise birthday gift. But you have to go outside to see it.”

“A parade?” Tía Lola guesses. But how can that be? The school already decided against a parade for the colonel. The marching band might catch pneumonia.

“I’m not telling. It’s a surprise, and not a surprise,” Miguel says mysteriously.

Now Tía Lola is really intrigued. These children are talking in riddles, inventing adventures, coming up with fun ideas. She has taught them well. Last summer, in her third book, they learned that the power was inside them. And how! They can run magic circles around her now.

Tía Lola bundles up in her jacket, tying her yellow scarf around her neck. It did not fail her after all. Through the thick and thin of four books, it has been her lucky charm. Outside, the crowd gathers around a mysterious white mound that has appeared on the front lawn. So that’s why Miguel and Valentino were trying to keep her in the back of the house!

The snow keeps falling. The outdoor lights illuminate the flakes coming down like confetti thrown at a wedding or like ticker tape in a parade. It’s as if Vermont is giving Tía Lola the parade she wanted for the colonel after all. By morning there will be enough snow for a snowman.

“Hooray for Tía Lola! Hooray for the colonel!” the guests cheer.

“Happy birthday, Tía Lola. This is from all of us.” Miguel gestures toward the mystery gift, then toward Juanita and the Swords, and their various parents and parents-to-be.

“TA-RUM!” Essie says, impersonating a trumpet. Miguel lifts the sheet; snow flies every which way.

The sign reads
TÍA LOLA’S C&C&C
.

“Ah!” Tía Lola exclaims. She looks over nervously at Stargazer, as if to say, Don’t breathe a word about the other sign that I ordered and ruin their surprise.
“¡Perfecto!”

It is? The kids can’t believe it. Spacey Stargazer must
have messed up and carved the wrong letters. “It’s supposed to say
‘B&B,’
 ” Essie points out.

Stargazer lifts up her mittened hands. “That’s what I thought, too. But I double-checked with Tía Lola. And that’s what she wanted.” Stargazer goes on to tell the story of the funny coincidence. “This is the sign you ordered, Tía Lola, but it’s their gift. That’s why I couldn’t let you pay for it.”

“All’s well,” Rudy begins, and everyone chimes in, “that ends well.”

But wait. Essie still doesn’t get it. “What
is
a C&C&C?”

“My very own Spanish B&B!” Tía Lola lifts her arms, introducing her creation to the world. As her last book is coming to an end, she is happy to be starting over on a new adventure. “Tía Lola’s
Cama
&
Comida
&
Cariño
. Bed and food and most important,
cariño
!” By now, the whole town is practically bilingual, so everyone knows that
“cariño”
means “love.”

In the years to come, people will try to find this charming establishment in a friendly little town in rural Vermont. They will drive around in the autumn, looking for the magnificent maple in the front yard; and in the winter, for the snowman with a yellow scarf and a plastic sword in his hand. The spring will bring them to the surrounding woods to hike; and the summer, to nearby lakes and sleepaway camps. Season after season, they will try to find Tía Lola’s C&C&C, only to give up until their next trip to Vermont.

But even if they program their GPS and drive around
for days, they won’t find what they are looking for. Except for the few who climb the steps to the small library on Main Street, the one with columns that looks like a monument celebrating some important person or deed. Inside, an important activity is indeed going on: people are reading, old people and teenagers, mommas and
mamis, papis
and papas and dads,
tíos
and
tías
, uncles and aunts,
abuelitos
and grandparents. Down in the basement, with a whole floor to themselves, little kids are reading alone on pillows in cozy corners, or reading to each other in small groups of two or four, or lying inside an old-fashioned claw-foot bathtub reading to the stuffed animals.

Just inside the basement door, shelved under
A
, they will find the Tía Lola books. Maybe they’ll start with the first one, or maybe the third, then backtrack to the second and first, but eventually they will arrive at Tía Lola’s C&C&C. By then, of course, the house will be painted purple with magenta shutters, and the sign up front will be decked on either side with bushes pruned in the shapes of hearts or parrots or flamingos. Upstairs, their
camas
will be turned down, and in the kitchen, their
comidas
will be warming in the oven. Their hearts will fill with
cariño
, so much so that they will have a hard time leaving.

But by then, they will know that they can always come back. All they have to do is open one of her books, without making a reservation or calling in advance. There is always a vacancy at Tía Lola’s C&C&C, no matter how many guests flock here.

So if you see people walking around, looking a little lost or scratching their heads and sighing, or showing any
of the telltale signs that they are still searching for something they can’t quite put into words, please tell them where to go. It might not be in a Tía Lola book, but inside one of the many books on the shelves of their libraries, surely they will find what they are looking for.