Far from the Tree(53)

All that changed on Sunday.

It started with—what else?—a text from Grace, and Joaquin rolled over in bed, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes so he could read it. Hey, it said, and already he could tell that this text was different. I know we’re supposed to meet for coffee today, but could you come over to Maya’s instead?

That was weird.

sure okay. why?

Long story. Can you come over this morning?

Joaquin thought for a minute, then rolled back over onto his side, closing one eye so he could see the screen. okay, he wrote back. see you at ten?

Cool. Thanks, Joaq.

He stayed in bed for another minute or two, then went to the foot of the stairs. “Hey, Linda?” he yelled.

“Yeah?”

“Can I borrow the car?”

Linda came to the foot of the stairs. “Mark and I thought we’d go to the store while you were meeting Maya and Grace.”

“Grace just texted me,” he said, holding up his phone. “She wants to meet at Maya’s house.” Then he paused before adding, “I think something’s wrong.”

An hour later, Joaquin swung Mark’s car into Maya’s very, very spacious driveway. Grace’s car was already parked there. Joaquin suspected that they could have also parked a sixteen-wheeler and there still would have been room to play basketball.

“Shit,” he said softly to himself, looking up at the house through the windshield. He had suspected that his youngest sister’s family had money, and looking up at the tall front doors, the high windows that framed the front of the house, and the bougainvillea that climbed up one side of the brick wall, he realized that he had been right.

Grace opened the front door before Joaquin could even use the huge brass door knocker that was shaped like a trophy. “Hi,” she said.

She looked terrible.

“You look . . .”

“I look awful, I know.” Grace stood back, waving him into the house. “I don’t even live here, but I’m inviting you in anyway. Welcome to Maya’s home.”

Joaquin stepped onto the marble floors. There was a pile of shoes to the side, so he toed off his sneakers, glad that he had worn clean socks, at least. “Why are you here?” he asked her. “Where’s Maya?”

Grace jerked a thumb over her shoulder. “She’s outside with Lauren. Her sister,” she added when Joaquin raised an eyebrow, not recognizing the name. “She’s the one who was born right after they adopted Maya.”

“Oh, right, right,” he said, but his eyes had already traveled to the massive staircase, and the huge number of family photos that lined the wall next to it. It was like watching a timeline of Maya’s life, from baby pictures to school photos set against a fake forest background. There were vacation snapshots, candids, and posed portraits, and Joaquin could find Maya in every single one within seconds. She was the short brunette in a sea of tall redheads, and for the first time, Joaquin was sort of glad that he didn’t have a ton of baby photos. He didn’t need the constant reminder that he was different from everyone else.

Grace stood next to him, following his gaze. “I know, right?” she said after a minute. “Imagine walking past this every single day. It freaked me out the first time I saw it, too.”

“Do you think they even know that it’s weird?” Joaquin asked her, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned closer to look at one of the baby pictures, an infant Lauren propped up in toddler Maya’s lap. Maya didn’t look thrilled. Joaquin realized that she still made that same face whenever she was annoyed.

Grace just shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe they just wanted her to think that she was one of them, regardless of how she looked.”

Joaquin huffed out a laugh before he could stop himself. That was one of the first things that Mrs. Buchanan had said to him when he first moved into their home. “We don’t see skin color,” she had said, leaning down to put a hand on his then-bony shoulder and smiling so wide that Joaquin could see her back teeth. “We’re all the same on the inside.”

He had thought that was pretty funny. Everyone else seemed to be able to see skin color just fine.

“Trust me,” he said to Grace. “Maya knows she doesn’t look like them.”

“Well, that’s the least of her problems right now.” Grace sighed. “C’mon, they’re out by the pool.”

Of course there’s a pool, Joaquin thought as he followed her outside. Maya and a red-haired girl who Joaquin guessed was Lauren were sitting across from each other by the pool. Lauren was tucked under the shade of an umbrella, but Maya was sprawled out on the cement by the pool, sunglasses over her face and her feet in the water. She sat up when she heard them come outside. “Hi,” she said, waving to Joaquin. “Welcome to the latest episode of Real Housewives.”

Joaquin looked at Grace, who was rubbing her temples. “What?” he asked.

“Nothing,” Maya said. “Thanks for coming over. You want to put your feet in the pool?”

He kind of did. Their patio area was warm, warmer than it was at Mark and Linda’s house by the beach. But first, he went over and offered his hand to Lauren. “Hi,” he said. “I’m Joaquin.”

“Oh, sorry,” Maya said, sitting up again. “This is my sister, Lauren. Lauren, this is my . . . this is Joaquin. Neither of you are related to each other.”