Chapter 3 - Rosa's Kitchen
Rosa Alvarez was gone.
That was the first thing Rafael learned when he returned to the kitchen.
Her apron hung from a brass hook.
Her handbag was missing.
So was her car.
Nobody had seen her leave.
Rafael called.
Straight to voicemail.
He called again.
Nothing.
Emmett remained in his arms.
“Daddy, can we go home?”
Rafael kissed his forehead.
“Yes.”
He stopped questioning staff immediately.
Whatever was happening could wait until his son was safe.
Forty minutes later, Emmett was asleep in his own bed.
Rafael sat beside him.
Blackberry stains remained beneath the boy's fingernails.
Rafael stared at them.
Twenty-nine years ago.
Rafael was thirty-two.
That meant whatever Celina was talking about happened three years before he was born.
At midnight, his phone rang.
Rosa.
“Where are you?”
“Mr. Rafael, I'm sorry.”
“Are you safe?”
A pause.
“Yes.”
“Why did you leave?”
“Because Mrs. Montaro told me to.”
“Lucille?”
“Yes.”
“Before or after the banquet?”
“Before.”
Rafael stood.
“Tell me everything.”
Rosa began crying.
That frightened him more than silence.
“The woman came into my kitchen around three.”
“What woman?”
“I didn't know her.”
“The one who spoke to Emmett?”
“Yes.”
“She had blackberries?”
“A whole basket.”
“And you let her near my son?”
“I thought she was family. She knew everything. Your name. Emmett's name. Mrs. Lucille's preferences. She said she was helping organize a surprise.”
“What surprise?”
“She told Emmett his grandmother loved blackberry cobbler.”
“And you believed her?”
Rosa's voice broke.
“I didn't know.”
Rafael closed his eyes.
“Continue.”
“Emmett became excited. He asked if we could make it. How could I tell him no?”
“You couldn't.”
“He stirred it himself. He was so proud.”
Rafael looked through the doorway toward his sleeping son.
“What happened next?”
“Mrs. Lucille entered the kitchen.”
“She saw it?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“She became furious.”
“At Emmett?”
“No.”
Rafael waited.
“At me.”
“Why?”
“She asked who brought blackberries into her house.”
“And you told her.”
“I described the woman.”
“What did Lucille say?”
Rosa became silent.
“Rosa?”
“She said, ‘She's back.’”
A chill moved through Rafael.
“Who?”
“I asked. She wouldn't answer.”
“Then why didn't she stop Emmett?”
“I thought she would.”
“What do you mean?”
“She told me to leave the kitchen.”
“And then?”
“I waited outside. A few minutes later Mrs. Lucille came out. She told me to go home immediately and not speak to anyone.”
“Why?”
“She said the family would handle it.”
Rafael paced.
“Twenty-nine years ago. What happened?”
The line went quiet again.
“How do you know about that?” Rosa asked.
“Celina.”
Rosa exhaled.
“I promised never to talk about it.”
“Someone used my three-year-old son to reopen whatever happened. Your promise ended when they involved him.”
Rosa knew he was right.
“When your father was young,” she began, “there was another woman living at the estate.”
Rafael's heart tightened.
“What woman?”
“Her name was Elena Vale.”
“Who was she?”
Rosa hesitated.
“Your grandfather's daughter.”
Rafael stopped walking.
“My father's sister?”
“Yes.”
“I've never heard that name.”
“That was intentional.”
Rosa explained slowly.
Elena had been Lucille's younger half sister by marriage—not blood, but raised under the same roof after their parents remarried.
She was warm where Lucille was controlled.
Impulsive where Lucille was disciplined.
And according to Rosa, adored by almost everyone.
Especially Rafael's father, Mateo.
“What happened to her?”
“She disappeared.”
“When?”
“Twenty-nine years ago.”
“Why?”
“Nobody knows the full truth.”
“What does this have to do with cobbler?”
Rosa began crying again.
“Elena baked blackberry cobbler every year for the family summer banquet.”
Rafael closed his eyes.
There it was.
The connection.
“What happened the last time?”
Rosa's answer came almost as a whisper.
“The last blackberry cobbler Elena ever made was served the night Lucille accused her of stealing from the family.”
Rafael sat down.
“How much?”
“Two million dollars.”
“And Elena disappeared?”
“The next morning.”
“Was she guilty?”
“I don't know.”
“Did they call police?”
“No.”
That didn't make sense.
“You're telling me someone stole two million dollars and the Montaros didn't involve police?”
“Your grandfather forbade it.”
“Why?”
“He said scandal would destroy the family.”
Rafael stared into darkness.
“Did anyone ever find Elena?”
“No.”
“Then who was the woman today?”
“I don't know.”
Rafael thought of Celina's fear.
Lucille's reaction.
The stranger who knew exactly which emotional wound to reopen.
“Rosa.”
“Yes?”
“Did Elena have children?”
A long silence followed.
“I was told she didn't.”
“Told by whom?”
“Lucille.”
Rafael looked toward Emmett's bedroom.
Suddenly every answer seemed to create another question.
Before hanging up, Rosa said one last thing.
“Mr. Rafael?”
“Yes?”
“There is something you should know.”
“What?”
“When I saw the woman in the kitchen today, I thought she looked familiar.”
“Like whom?”
“Like Elena.”
Rafael gripped the phone.
“That's impossible.”
“I know.”
“Elena would be almost seventy.”
“I didn't say the woman was Elena.”
May you like
Rosa's voice lowered.
“I said she looked like her.”
