Jennifer found some old gardening gloves and tools in the garage. Clearly they hadn’t been used in many a year, perhaps decades. The gloves practically disintegrated on touch. Jennifer didn’t need them, really. She wasn’t trying to protect her manicure; she kept her nails short and scrubbed clean. It felt good to dig them into the soft earth.
She planted daisies and pansies along the front of the house. In the backyard she cleared a spot in the corner that would get morning sun and afternoon shade. She rode her bike back to the nursery and loaded up the basket with mulch and potting soil and pedaled back. The weight of the load made riding hard work; she thought of her health club membership with an amused laugh. Hah! She should have discovered biking, gardening and waiting tables years ago!
She created a safe little harbor in the backyard for her tomato plants. Among them she scattered some marigold seeds to keep the bugs away.
Alice sauntered outside through the opened door and flopped down beside Jennifer. “What do you think?” she asked the dog.
“I think it looks good, for a beginner.”
She looked to her right and saw Alex peering over the wall that divided their backyards. He had his forearms on the top of the wall, his chin resting on them. He would have to be standing on a box or something—the wall was easily six feet high.
“Who are you calling a beginner?”
“Well. You. But that’s okay. You need any tips, you know where I am.”
“Yeah—hanging over the wall, spying. What if I’d been a topless gardener?”
His face cracked a roguish grin. “Be still my heart,” he said. “Adolfo asked me to come and get you. Change into something festive. You’re going out with Rose and me.”
“Festive? Me?” She stood up and brushed her hands together to get rid of the dirt. “The most festive thing I have is a pair of jeans. What’s going on?”
“You don’t know what day it is, do you? Haven’t you noticed decorations around town?”
There had been some lanterns strung up around the park; a few plastic flower arrangements here and there. She shrugged.
“What did you think it was?” he asked.
“I don’t know. Spring?”
“Spring is almost over. It’s Cinco de Mayo. The day the Mexicans ran the French and Spanish out of Puebla. Adolfo’s having one of his parties.”
“Oh,” she said. “Gee. Look, I have to get up pretty early and—”
“Don’t even start, Doris. If you don’t go, you’ll be in serious trouble. Go get ready.”
“Hey, Alex, it’s not like he invited me or anything. I didn’t have a chance to RSVP. I can’t just—”
“He wouldn’t have thought of it,” Alex said. “It’s Adolfo and his family and friends. He knows we all know there’s going to be a celebration—it’s not a formal thing. Music, food, drink, dancing. Trust me, you don’t want to miss this.”
She put her hands on her hips. “Look. We sort of talked about this before, without really talking about it, but I—”
“I know. You’re in deep cover. But this is different, Doris. It’s not public. It’s Adolfo’s friends and family—mostly Mexicans from around Boulder City and Henderson. Absolutely no chance anyone you’re avoiding would be there. A million to one chance, anyway. And I’ll protect you.” He smiled. “So, let’s go.”
“But I don’t have party clothes,” she said in frustration.
Alex sighed. “Okay. Alex to the rescue.” And he disappeared.
Jennifer looked at Alice. “How do you put up with him? He’s so annoying.”
Alice had no advice.
Jennifer picked up the empty plastic flats the plants came in, the empty bags from the mulch and potting soil, threw away her trash and went inside to wash her hands. Cinco de Mayo? Who’d have guessed.
There were a quick few taps at the door and it opened to reveal Rose. Or was that Carmen Miranda? She had a multicolored, layered skirt, peasant blouse pulled down off her shoulders, and on her head was a very elaborate fruit bowl. Over one arm she had draped clothes, and in her hand dangled at least three pairs of sandals. “Take these into the bedroom and see if anything will work. Go, go, go. And put on some lipstick or something. This is a party.”
“But…”
“Oh, don’t be difficult. We’re going. We always go to Adolfo’s on Cinco de Mayo. Believe me, you’ll be glad in the end.”
Jennifer showed her hands. “I need a shower.”
“That shouldn’t take long. It’s not as though you have to curl your hair. But please, a little mascara?”
Reluctantly, Jennifer accepted the clothing and went off to her shower. She grumbled as she ran the water and disrobed. She’d clean up, act agreeable, but then she’d have to come up with an excuse of some kind. A sudden bout of flu? Food poisoning? Heat prostration from the gardening? She wasn’t in a partying mood. It had taken a while to get used to the crowds that came into the diner for breakfast on weekends; she had barely become comfortable with the idea that so many people around town seemed to know her already. A party was out of the question.
But she shaved her legs with cream rinse. It was a little trick she’d learned from a stripper years ago—it left your legs so much softer and nicer than with shaving cream or soap. And after she dried off, she lotioned up—the desert, in any season, was hard on the skin. Then, just to appear cooperative, she looked at the clothes.
Hmm. A skirt and blouse, a strappy sundress, a pair of dressy capris and a peasant blouse. These were obviously Rose’s, but they sure weren’t the kind of clothes you’d expect a seventy-year-old woman to be wearing. She donned the sundress. Something snagged at her heart—it was lovely. Sexy and feminine. The straps crossed in the back, which was low. She couldn’t wear a bra, but with her girls right up there on her chest, it worked great without one. Peeking out from the front was an old friend she hadn’t let out in a while, her cleavage.
She leaned toward the mirror. With the sun on her cheeks and shoulders, she looked pretty good. She put on some eyeliner and mascara—no shadow or foundation, but a little darkening on the lids and lashes. She lined her lips with a pale peach liner—something quite old from under Louise’s bathroom sink, and then added some of the lip gloss from the little Kate Spade bag she kept hidden in the backpack.
Look at that, she thought. Not bad. She didn’t look anything like the blond bombshell Jennifer Chaise, but she didn’t exactly hurt the eyes. In fact, she looked years younger than Jennifer Chaise. She had grown to like the freckles and the ordinary-size lips. What had made her think she needed those bee-stung lips, anyway?
She tried on the sandals. They were about a size smaller than her own, but when she tried a pair of backless mules with a small heel, they worked.
When she went into her living room she found Rose sitting on the chair and Alex standing, a hand braced on the fireplace mantel. She stood before them, all thoughts of bailing on this outing gone from her mind.
Rose smiled a crooked conspirator’s smile, as if to say, I knew it! “Look at you,” she finally said. “At last, a real girl!”
But Alex was speechless. He stared, his lips parted in an O. He closed his mouth, shook his head and held out a hand. “You’ll thank me for this someday, Doris. You won’t find a better party than the one at Adolfo’s.”
She put her hand in his and with the other, gave Alice a pat. “I won’t be late,” she said to the dog.
“She’ll be late,” Alex corrected. “I’ve already watered the dog and locked the back door, so let’s do it.”
Alex drove them out of the historic district to a neighborhood where the houses were bigger than the tiny boxes that had been originally built by the government, but like in the historic district, individual taste was an option. They passed a big to-do in the park and Jennifer learned that there were celebrations all over town, but the one at Adolfo’s house would be the most authentic and intimate. Intimate turned out to be a relative term; as they drove down Adolfo’s s
treet they found it lined with trucks and cars, the sound of music and laughter ringing out from blocks away.
She would have known Adolfo’s house without being told. There were two huge trees in the front yard and they were decorated with something akin to Christmas lights, lanterns strung across the eaves and carport, luminaires lining the drive and sidewalk. The sun was just barely lowering in the sky, and Alex had to toot the horn at a bunch of young men kicking a soccer ball around the street in front of his car.
“Intimate?” Jennifer heard herself ask.
“Everyone here has known Adolfo and his family for a long time. Carmel and Adolfo have many wonderful celebrations here—the Day of the Dead is something you don’t want to miss.”
“Day of the—”
“All Saints Day,” Alex clarified. “And Christmas for this family goes on for literally months. They’re very religious. Very respectful of the saints and their days. And—”
“And very good partiers,” Rose interrupted. “I knew parking would be a problem.”
Alex dropped the women in front of Adolfo’s house and drove off to find parking. Rose was off like a shot down the driveway with a large platter of sweets for the party, and Jennifer was left to slowly follow. Rose darted around the corner and into the house while Jennifer just got to the edge of the backyard and stood self-consciously by herself, taking it all in—there were people everywhere. A huge crowd. Young men stood around a keg of beer while others tended a barbecue; old women sat in lawn chairs under a big tree; children ran about; women of all ages totted food and drink to several large picnic tables that were lined up end to end across the yard. There was a gazebo at the far end of the driveway and under the roof was a small band—guitarists and mariachis. A couple in brightly colored clothes danced in front of them, and when the music ended the man lifted his partner high in the air and everyone applauded.
“Doris!” Adolfo cried. “Carmelita!” he called to his wife. A very beautiful, very full and round Latina woman came up behind him. She wore a colorful apron and held a dish towel in her hands.
Adolfo grabbed Jennifer and gave her a welcoming hug, muttering something very approving in Spanish as he looked at her in the dress and pronounced her muy bueno. Then he introduced her to Carmel who, likewise, had very positive things to say in Spanish—Jennifer nodded, wishing she had some idea what they were. Then followed a long line of people whom Adolfo presented. Maria, Andreas, Stefano, Juan, Eduardo, Lydia, Jesus, Jose, Madeira, Theresa, and on and on he went until Jennifer was long past remembering anyone but Carmel. To further confuse things, his introductions were half in English and half in Spanish.
She saw that in addition to the keg and a cooler filled with soft drinks, there seemed to be a bar set up near the house where electricity for the blender was available. A large bowl of limes sat atop the bar, and leaning against it was, surprisingly, Buzz, and beside him, Gloria. He nodded toward Jennifer and lifted a glass.
“Adolfo, who’s minding the diner?”
“It’s closed. Señor Buzz put up a sign. Ido de pesca. Gone fishing.” He grinned. “Buzz would not miss a celebration at the Garcia homestead.”
Still more people lined up behind Adolfo, and one by one he introduced them. His brother, his nephew, his neighbor, his old friend, his wife’s sister, a friend from their country, which she learned did not mean Mexico but rather a region of Mexico. Another neighbor, a son-in-law, and a wee tot whom he lifted into his sturdy arms as he said, “Juanito, the newest bambino. My grandson.”
Caught off guard by the beauty of the little boy, Jennifer forgot her nerves for a second and put out a hand, a finger, which Juanito happily grabbed. “Oh, Adolfo, he’s precious. How old is he?”
“Dos. Two and then some. But he thinks he’s as big as all the others and chases them from morning till night. Oh, Señorita Doris, when Alex told me he was going to bring you, it made me so happy. I am proud to have you in my home, with my family.”
“He told you—? But Alex made it seem as though you expected me.”
“Sí, I expected you if Alex could find a way to persuade you. And now you can see the flowers and plants that Carmel tends. She has the gift of the thumb verde.”
Someone was at her side, passing her a drink in a plastic cup. She turned to see it was Alex, not looking in any way remorseful. “Maybe you’d better have one of these,” he said.
“El perdón, you are in good hands,” Adolfo said, leaving them to play host to what Jennifer feared were hundreds of people.
She took a sip of the margarita. It was delicious, and strong. “You tricked me,” she said to Alex.
“Well, let’s just hope I tricked you into having some fun.”
“You shouldn’t have done that. It just pays to be honest.”
“You wouldn’t have come if I’d been completely honest. Besides, I only stretched the truth a little bit. You heard him—he wanted you here very much.” Alex gestured to the gathering. “And as you can see, you couldn’t be safer. If you’re going to enjoy only a few outings, this is one to take in.”
“Hmm. Well, now I probably won’t trust you again,” she sagely advised him. But rather than being chagrined by that, he laughed outright. And loudly enough to turn a couple of heads.
He leaned close to her ear and whispered. “Hell, Doris, you don’t trust me, anyway, so who cares? Huh?” He clinked her plastic glass with his and said, “Welcome to the neighborhood just the same.”
A few more people from the gathering approached them, and to her surprise and extreme pleasure, Alex continued with the introductions. “This is Jesus, who works with Adolfo’s son, Manuel, and Rosa is his wife. Here is Selena, who lives down the street and is always here for the holidays, unless she goes home to her country in Mexico, and this is Roberto, who lives on the other side over there—he helped Adolfo and his sons build the gazebo and barbecue.” This went on and on until a woman—clearly not Latina—approached. “Hey!” Alex said, pulling her in for a hug. “I wondered if you’d make it. You bring John?”
“He’s in the house getting the piñata ready for later. Stuffing it.” She looked at Jennifer, stuck out her hand and said, “Hi, I’m Paula. I work with Alex.”
“Hello,” she said. She took another bolstering sip and was finally grateful to Alex for having produced the drink.
“Here’s how it works, Doris,” Alex was saying. “Last year I brought Paula and her fiancé, John, and now Adolfo would feel someone from his family was missing if they weren’t here. You have to die or leave the country to get out of it.”
“Who’d want to get out of it?” Paula said. “Believe me, you are never going to eat better in your life. They have carne asada on the grill, barbecue chicken, tacos, quesadillas, and when you taste the corn you’re going to faint. They cook the corn on the cob in the husks smothered in mayonnaise, cheese and chili. To die for. Nice to meet you—I’m going to get a beer.”
When Paula left, Jennifer asked, “She works with you how?”
“She’s my partner. Excellent cop. Good person. John is a firefighter. Cops and the FD seem to hang together. They marry one another a lot.”
“She’s awfully small to be a police officer.”
“Dynamite comes in a small wrapper, too. Not to worry.”
Jennifer took another drink and said, “Um, Alex? I’ve been gardening and riding the bike back and forth to the nursery all afternoon. I didn’t exactly eat anything. And this drink is muy potent.”
“Doris. You’re bilingual,” he laughed.
“I’m going to be before long the way Adolfo mixes up his Spanish and English at the diner. I’m also going to be drunk.”
“Never fear, Alex is here. Rosa! Could we have a little something to take the bite out of this margarita?”
“Sí, amigo. Ven aquí. We have chips and salsa and guacamole here. Beans and tortillas coming up with salada. And we do have lemonade and Pepsi for the weak.”
“Hah! We can hold our own! We just
need a taco bed for the tequila!”
As the sun slowly lowered in the sky and the lanterns and lights came up, Alex was tempted to hover near Jennifer, but the men kept drawing him away. He managed to make sure her plate and glass were always replenished, but he wasn’t able to stay at her side. Still, he couldn’t draw his eyes away from her.
Over the course of the next couple of hours he watched as she held a variety of babies and small children. She visited with Rose, then Paula, then Gloria. As Alex watched, a very elderly Hispanic woman sat beside her and he could see Jennifer draw her eyebrows together as she concentrated on understanding her. Carmel and Adolfo, though constantly busy, kept close watch. Young men paused before her and made her laugh, young women brought her food to taste. They made a big deal over this darling young woman in the sundress and called her Alejandro’s la amiga. Alex’s girlfriend.
“It’s nice to see you here with someone under seventy,” Paula said into his ear. He looked at his partner with a small smile but said nothing. “She’s not what I expected.”
“What did you expect?”
“Well…The picture…”
“Shh,” he warned.
“No one heard,” she said. “I’m surprised you heard,” she added.
The music grew louder and the laughter reverberated throughout the neighborhood. A group of strong young men rousted everyone from the picnic tables and moved them to the edges of the yard so that the piñata could be hung. Dancing began in earnest on the cement of the carport. As Paula stood beside Alex, watching, Adolfo and Carmel swirled onto the cement driveway and, to the shouts of their family and friends, danced their celebratory dance. Others began to join them. Rose appeared in the arms of one of Adolfo’s neighbors, a man young enough to be her grandson, and although he was a talented dancer, she was clearly his equal. Gloria and Buzz twirled around clumsily but happily. Someone grabbed Jennifer’s hand and tried to pull her from the picnic table. She shook her head and resisted, but was no match for the Latino’s insistence. They stood at the edge of the dance floor while he tried to explain to her what he was going to do and she listened carefully, nodding. Then they began to dance, stilted at first, then burst into the maringá. Though she was slow at first, there was no question she knew what she was doing. As the music changed, and so did the dance, it became apparent that Jennifer could salsa with the best of them.