The Inheritance of Orquídea Divina (36)

Where was Marimar? he wondered.

But then came the war cry from Tía Silvia. “?A comer! Don’t make me go look for you.”

Tío Félix and his wife Reina brought in the roasted pig while the others carried bowls of crisp salsa topped with cilantro. An ají that made Rey’s eyes water even from across the table. Heaping towers of patacones and maduros. A mountain of arroz con gandules. Yuca frita stacked like a Jenga tower. Camarones apanados. Whole avocados ready to be cut.

One by one, the Montoyas took their seats. They congratulated Penny on the table setting and scolded the twins for hiding Gabo. But they were forgiven, with their easy smiles of sweet preteen boys. Those smiles would get them in trouble with women and men in the years to come.

Rey wanted to change the record but was pulled into a conversation with Tía Silvia’s husband Frederico to give tax advice, which was as delightful as the time Frederico had gone off on a homophobic Christmas rant. Ernesta was trying to convince Caleb Jr. that he’d be rich if he found a way to synthesize the smell of the ocean. Tatinelly held Mike’s hand and rubbed her belly as she gave her medical history to Tía Silvia, who was measuring the size of the belly with some concern, as Tati was well over the six-ish months she claimed. Penny whispered to her mom that she heard Rey say that he’d done the painting of their grandmother hanging over the mantel. All of a sudden, they were taking pictures of it. Even Tío Félix took out the photo from his wedding day. “Paint me this way,” he said. “I want to be just like I was in this moment.”

Rey agreed, mostly because he wasn’t sure when he’d see his uncle next, and therefore probably wouldn’t have to keep his promise. He’d say anything to get through the night. When this was over, he had to go home. Make sure his boss hadn’t given his tiny desk to Paul the Intern. He had to continue on the path he’d carved out for himself.

Rey wanted Marimar to hurry back. If he was getting through this, then so could she. He needed to tell her about the ticket he found on the altar, conveniently now in his pocket. He wondered where Enrique was, but he didn’t really care to know the answer.

Gabo let out a long, screeching cry from somewhere outside.

“How is that bird still alive?” Félix asked, holding a fork and knife in each fist, ready to dive into the crackling pig skin and juicy meat.

“He’s come back to life twice,” Orquídea said.

To which the twins responded with, “ZOMBIE CHICKEN.”

“Zombie rooster,” Penny muttered, but only Rey paid attention to her.

“Right you are.” He raised his drink in acknowledgement.

“It’s a shame the Buenasuertes didn’t stay for dinner,” Florecida said, twisting a wine opener into the cork of a red bottle. “It might have been nice to know about Mom’s other side of the family.”

“Nice like getting a root canal, maybe,” Rey said.

He felt someone pinch him but couldn’t tell which of his aunts it was. He rubbed the side of his arm and was determined to stay quiet. To enjoy these last hours with his family. Listen to Félix detail travel destinations he’d never get to see because he was a dreamer, not a doer. Wait for Silvia to force the twins to sing while Penny played the guitar.

Unfortunately, Enrique finally stalked into the dining room. His dress shirt was unbuttoned to the middle, like wherever he’d been he’d worked up a sweat and had stripped to his white tank. There was what looked like a snake bite on the veiny top of his hand. His fingers were smudged and there was a cobweb in his hair, which his twin Ernesta plucked and threw away as he sat.

His uncle had been searching for something. Rey was sure of it. By his foul mood, he hadn’t found it.

Enrique poured himself a glass of wine and leaned back. “I thought this was your funeral, but you’re still looking well, Mother.”

“About as well as you,” she said, eyeing the bite on his hand, then held out her glass in the air. “Marimar is on her way, but I want to start off with a toast.”

“Come on, Mom,” Enrique said, drumming his fingers on the table. “Do we have to sit through this? You wanted us to come back to give us our inheritance, so do it. We all know this land is mine by right.”

“We do?” Rey laughed.

“Excuse me, you little shit, but there are plenty of your brothers and sisters who are older than you and less entitled,” Florecida said.

“The food’s going to get cold,” Tatinelly said softly.

“Wait a minute,” Félix said, his bushy eyebrows knitted like two kissing caterpillars. “I don’t want the land. I wanted to see my mother. My brothers and sisters. We’ll figure out what to do with the valley later.”

“You would say that.” Enrique scoffed. His green eyes were taking on the pale shade of water poured into absinthe. “The oldest brother trying to keep the peace.”

“Actually, Pedrito is the oldest,” Orquídea said. It was so low, and it didn’t carry. But Rey followed her line of sight to the empty chair where Marimar should be. A cold sensation snaked around his throat. It prickled the hairs on the back of his neck. Who was Pedrito?

“No more ghosts, no more stories,” Enrique said, raising the baritone of his voice. “Just—where is the paperwork?”