The Do-Over, page 5
They all stared at Juliette as if she were a firework they had lit, about to burst into sparks and flame at any moment.
Lucinda didn’t know if she should back away and take cover, or if she should try to help. Crybaby leaped onto her lap, and she was grateful that at least she had something to do with her hands now.
Juliette sneezed again.
“Okay,” Mom said decisively, sliding her metal folding chair away from the table. “I’m getting the thermometer. Is it still in the bathroom cabinet?”
Dad nodded. He had gotten up to join Sylvia on the other side of Juliette.
Sylvia held her palm to Juliette’s forehead and then her cheek. “You don’t feel like you have a fever,” she said. She turned to Dad, her forehead wrinkled with worry. “What are the symptoms again? Does your throat hurt?” she asked, holding Juliette’s chin in her hands. “What about your stomach? Do you still have a sense of smell?”
Juliette sniffled. “I’m fine. Just tired.” She sneezed again.
“Bless you,” Lucinda said, but no one was paying attention to her.
Mom got back with the thermometer and passed it to Sylvia. It was an old-fashioned kind, with a pointed end that Juliette was supposed to hold under her tongue until it beeped. It was so quiet while they waited that Crybaby’s purr sounded like the rumble of an engine.
“Maybe it’s the cat,” Dad suggested, his voice low. “Or the dust from running around the orchard. She could be allergic.”
“Maybe.” Sylvia watched the numbers slowly tick upward, then stop. The thermometer beeped.
Lucinda held her breath, remembering Mrs. Moreno. Remembering, all of a sudden, why they were at the ranchette in the first place.
“Ninety-nine point one,” Sylvia announced. “That’s a little high.”
“Only a little,” Mom said, coming back from the kitchen with a fresh glass of water. She set it in front of Sylvia. “It could be nothing.”
Sylvia took a sip. “Still,” she said. “I should call her doctor, just to be safe.”
“Of course,” Mom said. “Kel, Lucinda, help me get these dishes out of the way.” They started stacking forks and plates, then followed Mom into the kitchen as Dad led Juliette to the living room couch.
Mom opened a drawer, pulled out a dish towel, and tossed it to Raquel. “You two start washing up,” she said. “I’m going to see if Juliette needs anything.”
Lucinda twisted on the faucet, then reached under the sink where Abuelita had always kept the soap. It was strange how so many things had stayed exactly the same for years. Maybe even decades. The drawer full of dish towels, the thermometer in the bathroom cabinet. Even the mini herb garden on the windowsill. And yet, somehow everything felt so different. It reminded Lucinda of those puzzles in the magazines they flipped through at the dentist’s office. There were two pictures, side by side, that looked almost exactly alike, and you had to search for tiny differences between them.
Only in this version, there was just one difference, and she wasn’t hard to spot: Sylvia. As Lucinda scrubbed burnt rice off the bottom of the paella pan, she wondered if she’d ever get used to having it in the house. To having her in the house. She wasn’t sure she wanted to get used to it.
“Do you think she’s faking?” Raquel whispered as she dried off a dinner plate. “Juliette, I mean.”
They had only known Juliette a few hours, but she didn’t seem like the kind of person who would lie about something so serious. “No,” Lucinda said. “Do you?”
“Nah,” Raquel said. “But it’d be a pretty genius idea if she was. Everyone is completely distracted.”
Lucinda elbowed her in the ribs. “You shouldn’t joke about it. What if she’s really sick?”
She strained to hear Sylvia’s phone call. “Thank you very much,” she was saying. “Yes, I’ll call right away if she starts feeling worse.”
Lucinda turned off the water. “I think she just hung up,” she whispered. Raquel wiped her hands with the towel, and they wandered back into the dining room, where Mom and Dad were already waiting.
First Sylvia studied Juliette, wedged into a corner of the sofa with a fleece blanket draped over her. Then she looked at Dad.
“The doctor thinks she’s probably fine,” she said.
“Thank goodness,” Mom said. “That sounds promising, doesn’t it?”
“But …” Sylvia went on.
Raquel raised her eyebrows and glanced sideways at Lucinda. But? she mouthed.
“Just as a precaution,” Sylvia said, “she thinks Jules should isolate for a few days. To make sure she doesn’t have it.”
“You mean you have to go home?” Raquel piped up. “Don’t worry, we can help you pack.”
Lucinda caught her sister’s wrist and squeezed hard. Most of the time she admired Raquel for asking the questions everyone else was afraid to ask, for speaking up when everyone else was too shy. But once in a while—like now, for example—she didn’t think it would be so terrible if Raquel were maybe a little less brave.
Fortunately, the adults weren’t paying attention to anyone but Juliette.
“Can’t she take a test?” Dad asked. “So you don’t have to worry?”
Sylvia shook her head. “There still aren’t enough tests,” she said. “You can’t get one unless you know for sure you’ve been exposed, and we don’t.” She brushed a strand of hair out of her face, looking tired all of a sudden. “I hate to ask, Andrea, but can Jules and I move into the apartment? Just until we know for sure?”
Mom didn’t say anything for a long moment. She looked too surprised. Then she swallowed and stammered, “Of … of course. Definitely. There used to be a couch, back in the den. I can camp out there. It’s no problem at all.”
Sylvia smiled gratefully. “And, Marcos,” she said, “I know I said I’d help you at the farm stand tomorrow, but I don’t think—”
Dad stopped her with a shake of his head. “Of course not,” he said. “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”
“And we can help,” Mom added. “The girls and I. We’ve done it before.”
Lucinda was only half listening. She knew it was wrong, but she couldn’t help feeling almost … a little bit … pleased. As long as Juliette really was okay, this might be the opportunity they were looking for to get Sylvia out of the house. Things couldn’t have worked out any better if Raquel had planned this all along.
She looked over her shoulder to see if her sister was thinking the same thing. But she wasn’t there. She was in the living room, kneeling next to Juliette and jotting something in her notebook.
“Kel!” Mom and Dad spotted her a second after Lucinda did.
Raquel blinked back at them innocently. “I was just getting her phone number,” she said. “So we can text each other while she’s stuck in the loft.”
Dad took a deep breath. “That’s very thoughtful of you, Raquel, but maybe you should give Jules a little … space.”
Raquel stood and tucked the notebook back in her pocket. Then, as she walked past Lucinda, toward the hallway that led to the bedroom they shared at the ranchette, she winked. Lucinda was excited but also a little scared. Exactly the way she always felt when Raquel had a new plan.
From: Raquel
To: Mom, Dad, Lu
Re: Schedule for Sunday
Hi, Team Mendoza! Since we’re staying together now, I decided it would be easiest to make one schedule for all of us. And, Dad, I added you, too!
5:30 a.m. —Raquel wakes up (The rest of you are welcome to join me, of course.)
6:30 a.m. —Mom and Lu wake up (Seriously. You have to get up.)
6:35 a.m. —Breakfast and getting dressed
7:00 a.m. —Farm stand
9:00 a.m. —Back home for a snack and text/email break
10:00 a.m. —Farm chores together
12:00 p.m. —Lunch
1–4:30 p.m. —Family time (Board games? Puzzles? Home videos? Long walk? I’m open to suggestions!)
5:00 p.m. —Dinner (Carnitas?)
The sky glowed bluish-violet and birds had just begun chattering in the trees when Raquel woke up the next morning. Operation Quarantine: Day 1. She stretched her arms, then clambered down from the top bunk, careful not to step on Lu—or Crybaby, who snoozed on the pillow beside her sister’s head. Raquel was used to waking up before Mom and Lu. Sometimes hours before. She had never needed an alarm clock. Something inside her mind just clicked on each morning, to tell her the world was in motion again and she wouldn’t want to miss any of it.
It was always harder to beat Dad to the breakfast table, though.
Raquel found him in the dim kitchen, pouring a cup of coffee.
“I hope I didn’t wake you,” he said. “It’s been a long time since I had to worry about making too much noise in the morning.”
“No,” Raquel said, and shivered. The ranch house was comfortable but old, and chilly air sneaked in under windows and doors. She pulled her sweatshirt tighter around her shoulders.
Dad took another mug from the cabinet. It had a pair of dice and a hand of playing cards on it, brought back from one of her grandparents’ trips to Las Vegas. “Don’t tell your mom,” Dad said as he filled it halfway to the top, then added a splash of cream and a teaspoon of sugar. The coffee warmed Raquel’s hands as she carried the mug over to the kitchen table and sat down.
She and Dad used to spend quiet mornings together like this all the time when she was younger, especially on weekends when Mom didn’t schedule her first clients until after eleven so she could sleep in.
Dad had the newspaper delivered on Saturdays and Sundays, and as she crunched her cereal and slurped her milk, he would tell her what the weather was like all over the world. “Looks like it’s going to be a foggy morning in Houston,” he would say. Or, “Better bring a snowsuit if you’re visiting Helsinki today.” And she would giggle, knowing that if there was anything to plan, anything to schedule, Dad would take care of it. She didn’t have to worry.
Mornings were lonelier since he and Mom broke up, and worse since Dad had moved up to Lockeford. That was when she missed him most, when she was the only one awake in the sleepy apartment. Mom and Lu seemed to think she got up early on purpose to work on Manzanita Mirror stories. But really, she started working on the stories as a way to keep her mind busy while she was all alone in the kitchen.
Not this morning, though. Raquel wished they could just sit there forever, flipping through crinkly newspaper pages together. Despite everything that had changed, this still felt exactly the same, quiet and calm. For her, anyway. She could tell Dad was getting anxious about the time. He kept looking at his watch,
“I guess your mom and sister still aren’t morning people, huh?” he said after he swallowed his last drink of coffee.
They should have been up by now. Raquel set their alarms herself last night. They sometimes slept through them, though. She should have set two. This was the first chance the four of them had—just the four of them—to be together again, and it was already getting off to a rough start.
“I’ll go get them,” Raquel said, worried Dad might get impatient and decide to restock the farm stand on his own.
“We’re here,” Mom said groggily as she and Lu plodded into the kitchen. “We’re up.”
Raquel tugged the edge of Lu’s long-sleeve shirt. “What took you so long?” she whispered.
“Sorry,” Lu said, yawning. “It’s just so early.”
Dad ruffled Lu’s tangled hair. “Good morning, mija.” Then he rinsed his coffee mug in the sink and put on his baseball cap.
“The coffee is still warm,” he said to Mom. “I made a little extra for you. I’ll be outside loading up.”
“We’re not having any breakfast?” Mom asked.
“No time,” Dad said as the door shut behind him.
Abuelito named his property Rancho Los Robles after the oak trees that had grown there for nearly one hundred years. It wasn’t really a ranch. Real ranches were much bigger. It wasn’t even a farm. Those had animals. It was just twelve rolling acres where Abuelito raised oranges and lemons and two kinds of cherries—bright red Bings and the creamy-pink Rainiers that were Raquel’s favorite—and where he tended a sprawling garden that burst with vegetables nearly all year long.
Abuelito built the farm stand at the very edge of the property, along busy Locke Road, to sell the produce his own family didn’t need. Which turned out to be a lot after a while. Now Dad kept the farm stand open Thursday through Sunday, stocking it each morning with whatever he had picked the day before. Customers paid on the honor system, dropping their money in a cash box that was bolted to the side of the shed.
“Why don’t you just hire someone to do this?” Mom grumbled as she arranged bunches of carrots into bushel baskets.
“Quality control,” Dad said. “Speaking of which, that carrot is bruised on top. Didn’t you notice? You should toss it.”
It was the third time that morning that he had criticized her sorting. Raquel wished Mom would start being more careful. She wished Dad would stop being so picky. They were supposed to be working together. Raquel wanted Dad to see that there wasn’t any reason to expand the farm stand like Sylvia suggested. Let alone expand their family.
Lu seemed to be hiding from any hint of conflict. She had popped in her earbuds as soon as their parents started bickering on the short drive to the farm stand, just like she used to when they all lived together. And now she was sitting in the corner on an overturned bucket, updating the chalkboard price list. It would be up to Raquel to try to save the morning. As usual.
She passed Mom a strawberry. “You should try one,” she said. “Weren’t you just saying the other day how much you missed farm-fresh strawberries?”
Mom set down the bunch of carrots she was holding, took the strawberry, and bit into it. “Mmmm,” she said as a droplet of juice ran down her finger.
“They’re as delicious as you remember, right?” Raquel asked. “Isn’t everything here as perfect as you remember?”
But before Mom could answer, Dad dropped a crate of oranges on the table in front of them. “You know, if you keep eating all the product, there won’t be any left to sell,” he said. Raquel couldn’t tell whether he was kidding or not.
Mom threw up her arms, then grabbed an empty basket and stomped away from the shed. “I’m going to the flower beds,” she said.
“For the last time, we’re not selling bouquets!” Dad called after her. “It’s a farm stand, not a flower shop.”
This was a disaster. Raquel had held out as long as she could. She took her phone from her pocket and typed a new message to the Manzanita Mirror group text.
Normally, she couldn’t stand last-minute schedule changes. What was the point of having a schedule if you weren’t going to stick to it? But, let’s face it, nothing had gone according to schedule today.
It wasn’t like Raquel not to have realized from the start that the morning was going to be messy. Mom was the type of person who needed her sleep, especially after such a long drive and all the commotion of the night before. Not to mention the stress of the past couple of months—the salon closing, the empty grocery store shelves, all their worry about getting sick.
And Dad had probably gotten used to doing everything his own way after living alone for almost a year now. Obviously, they’d both be prickly. Raquel was just so sure she could force them back together that she hadn’t thought things through all the way.
Lucinda stretched out on the bottom bunk in the bedroom that used to belong to Dad and Tío Tony when they were growing up. There were boxes of their old comic books still stacked in the closet. Lucinda was grateful that Dad remembered to save the room for them. That he hadn’t offered it to Juliette instead.
That reminded her, though. She flicked on her phone and tapped out a message.
Raquel had shared Juliette’s contact information the night before. Her reply appeared almost instantly.
Lucinda set the phone on the bedside table. Crybaby whined, then curled up on top of her feet for a midday nap. She was tempted to take one, too. That is, until Raquel’s head appeared, hanging over the edge of the top bunk. “Are you coming up here or what?” she said. “The meeting’s about to start.”
“I’m coming.” Lucinda sighed. She eased her feet out from under Crybaby, careful not to disturb him, and hoisted herself up to the top bunk. “But I don’t see why we need an emergency meeting. Haven’t you ever heard of taking the weekends off?”
“Just sit,” Raquel said. She balanced the computer across their laps, and they huddled over its screen as the rest of the club logged in.
“Hi!” Alice chirped nervously. “Listen, Kel, I know you’re probably wondering where that movie list is because I promised you I’d have it finished by Friday, but when I told my mom what I was working on, she got so excited she planned this whole movie marathon for the weekend, and—”
Raquel clicked her microphone on. “It’s okay,” she said. “I forgot all about the deadline, actually.”
“You did?” Alice said.
“You did?” Lucinda echoed. One by one the faces on the screen blinked back with the same look of wary surprise. Since when had Raquel ever forgotten about a deadline?
“No big deal,” Raquel said. “We can just publish it next week.”
Lucinda couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She muted their microphone, then said, “Are you feeling okay?” Maybe it was Raquel they should all be worried about, not Juliette.
Raquel rolled her eyes. “I’m fine.” She clicked the microphone back on. “Um … Peter, you were raising your hand?”
Peter’s face filled the screen. No cockatiels this time, Lucinda noticed. His parents must have the weekend off, at least.
“I know you didn’t like my last story idea about tricks you can teach your pets during the lockdown, but I have another one I think you’re really going to love.”
“Go ahead,” Raquel said.
Peter took a breath. “Well, I was thinking, you know how my mom and dad still have to go to work, even though almost everyone else is supposed to stay home? What if there are people who still have to work at Manzanita Middle School? Like the janitor. I could write a story about them.”
