The Inheritance of Orquídea Divina (54)

“Yes, honey,” Tatinelly said, because the chances were highly likely. “He is on his fourth or fifth resurrection.”

“I’m going to regret asking this,” Mike said, shoving his hands in his pockets. He was sweating despite the cool breeze. “But how is that rooster laying an egg?”

“Yeah, after the fire, Jameson turned completely blue and started laying eggs,” Marimar said. “I don’t have to buy eggs anymore though. The yolks are green, but you get used to it.”

“Do you, though?” Mike laughed nervously, and scratched a dry patch on his scalp.

“Come inside,” Marimar offered. “I called everyone and they should be arriving soon.”

As the Sullivans followed her inside the house, Mike noted that Marimar looked the same as she had when she was nineteen. Though she had traded her ripped jeans for cotton dresses that made her look like a wind spirit among the tall grass, she still wore her heavy leather boots, which she took off at the front door. Reymundo was different, though. More muscular, beautiful in a way that made Mike stare, pink cheeked and embarrassed.

Marimar brought out coffee for everyone in the new sitting room. Everything about the house felt new. New trim. New paint. New wallpaper. There were some things that had survived the fire, but barely. Records and photographs Marimar had framed across an entire wall. Tatinelly smiled at the painting that hung over the fireplace, a scorch mark on the bottom half. She thought that the stain resembled the face of a man, but perhaps it was like those shrink inkblots. She poured fat sugar cubes into her coffee and milk that tasted thick and fresh. The coffee itself was different. She shouldn’t have expected Orquídea’s smells and flavors when Orquídea was not here.

“I’m sorry about your dad,” Reymundo said, pouring bourbon into his coffee.

“I’m sorry about everyone,” Tatinelly lamented. “My dad’s will says he wants to be cremated and scattered in the river where Orquídea went fishing as a little girl.”

Marimar frowned, confused. “I remember one Thanksgiving when your dad said fishing was the reason grandma was so mean.”

“It’s what he wanted.” Tatinelly chuckled. She was at ease and the pain in her bones dampened. So much so that she wondered if her sudden aches had been caused by her fear and anxiety. By being so tense that her body revolted against her. “What about Tía Florecida and Penny?”

“They’ll be buried here in the family cemetery,” Marimar explained.

Tatinelly nodded. She turned to the sharp scream coming from the open window. Rhiannon ran across the wild grass chasing Jameson and the dragonflies.

“I’ll go keep her company,” Mike announced, and excused himself, leaving his empty, untouched cup behind.

Tatinelly watched him leave, accepting the caress of his hand as he walked past. Then her face turned serious, conspiratorial as she hooked her finger in the direction of her cousins and reeled them in. “What are we going to do?”

“I don’t know,” Marimar said, biting the red skin of her thumbnail.

“Mike doesn’t believe me. But I’ve seen a man following me.”

“We believe you,” Rey said, sipping from his cup, etched in gold and dotted with a moon and stars. “I’ve seen him. The figure. I’m not sure what it is.”

“Did he—I don’t know—shine?” Tatinelly let go of an anxious breath.

Rey nodded. How could that figure be at two opposite sides of the country at once? “What does it want?”

Marimar touched her flower bud absently. “The bargain Orquídea made. It’s coming back for us.”

“But what was it? How do we suppose we find out the details?” Rey asked. “We looked. You know we looked. A few pictures. A theater ticket. She couldn’t say it when she was alive, how can she say it now that she’s—transformed?”

“Have you tried to talk to Orquídea?” Tatinelly asked.

Marimar scoffed. “She’s as responsive as she was when she was alive. Though apparently Rhiannon can hear her.”

“So, you haven’t seen anything?” Tatinelly asked.

“I heard a voice. It told me to open the door.”

“What did you do?” Tati asked.

She laughed. “Washed the floors with lemon and salt. Made an altar. Felt ridiculous because nothing happened after that. For a minute I thought it was Enrique being a dickbag.”

“I mean, he sort of is,” Tati said. “But my mom said he had a run of bad luck. Fraud. Bankruptcy. His wife took everything.”

“He got married?” Marimar asked and was surprised that it bothered her not to know.

“Sure, we went to the wedding. She left him for some Saudi prince. He’s living in Ernesta’s basement after she took pity on him because he was sleeping in his car. He’s still family. Anyway, I don’t think he’d have the energy to prank-call, or the money to fly out and scare us. It’s someone else.”

Rey drained his glass, then poured another. “How do we do the opposite of find out?”

“Why would we do that?” Tatinelly asked.

“We’re safe here,” Rey said, clearing any lingering fear from his voice. “Besides, Marimar could use the company.”