by Sarah Price
This time, Amanda interrupted her. “Alecia! No! Nothing like that, I promise.”
“What is it, then?” she asked in confusion.
Amanda stood up and took a few steps. She hated feeling so nervous. It was silly, she told herself. After all, her mother-in-law didn’t own the holidays, and surely she could understand that they hadn’t been back to Lancaster County for years. Feeling a new measure of strength, she turned and said, “It’s about Christmas.”
Alecia leaned back into the sofa with her mouth agape. “Christmas?” Relief washed over her face, and she gave a short laugh. “All of this over Christmas? Oh, querida. You had me worried.”
Amanda clasped her hands behind her back and tried to meet her mother-in-law’s eye. But she couldn’t. “We’re going to Lititz for the holiday.” She quickly blurted it out, feeling as shell-shocked as Alecia looked.
A moment of silence fell between the two of them. It felt like a long time to Amanda but in reality was only a few drawn-out seconds before Alecia rose to her feet and hesitantly moved so that she stood in front of her daughter-in-law. The color had drained from the older woman’s face, and Amanda braced herself for hysterics.
Instead, she was shocked when she felt Alecia wrap her arms around her. “Oh, Amanda,” Alecia said sympathetically. “It’s going to be all right.”
Pulling back, Amanda stared at her. “It is?”
She nodded solemnly. “I’m here for you, and I’ll be happy to look after the children,” Alecia continued, her voice calm and reassuring. “They’ll have to attend my church, of course, on Christmas Eve, not that Lutheran one that you always insisted on taking them to. But with all of the cousins here, they will hardly notice that you’re away for the holiday. And Alejandro . . .” She waved her hand dismissively. “He’s gone so often that it won’t be much different, no?”
“It’s not what you think,” Amanda managed to say.
“Now, tell me, mi hija, who has fallen ill? Is it your mother?”
“No, it’s—”
Alecia gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. “Not your sister, bless her heart. Five children in eight years and all daughters!” Automatically, she reached for the gold cross that hung around her neck, made the sign of the cross, and kissed it reverently before dropping it back onto her chest.
“She does have one son,” Amanda gently corrected her. “The baby.”
But, as usual, Alecia simply wasn’t listening. “Is she going to the doctor? Or is she risking it by trying natural remedies?” The way she said natural remedies clearly indicated her disapproval, as if it was akin to drinking spoiled milk. “Alejandro must arrange for her to go to the Columbia Presbyterian Center, sí? They are the best in the north, especially if it’s cancer.”
“Alecia—”
“Since I know she won’t fly down here.” Another disapproving noise.
Amanda closed her eyes and shook her head, raising her voice to be heard. “Anna is not sick, Alecia.”
Silence filled the room, and when Amanda opened her eyes, her mother-in-law was staring at her with a confused expression on her face.
“We are going to Lititz for the holidays,” Amanda said slowly, hoping the words would finally sink in. “All of us.”
“The children?” she asked in disbelief.
“Yes, Alecia. The children, too.”
The astonished look on her mother-in-law’s face said it all. “I . . . I don’t understand,” she stammered. “What have I done to upset you?”
Alarmed, Amanda reached out to touch Alecia’s arm. “Oh no, Alecia, it’s nothing like that!”
But Alecia raised her hand to stop Amanda from trying to explain. “Two weeks before Christmas and you tell me this? That you are taking my grandchildren away from me? Leaving me all alone over the holidays?”
“That’s not exactly true,” Amanda said softly. She fought the urge to remain calm and patient, but she was beginning to feel flustered. Once again, Alecia turned the situation into a personal affront. While she loved her mother-in-law, Amanda wished that Alecia would be mindful that Alejandro had in-laws of his own. Clearly, Alecia had never learned to play fair in the sandbox. “Tia Carmen and Tio Juan and all of their children are still here, Alecia. I hardly doubt that you will be alone.”
“To celebrate with the Amish?” The way she said the word Amish always sounded demeaning, as if the plain lifestyle was equivalent to living in a third-world country.
“I grew up in the Amish community,” Amanda reminded her mother-in-law, her patience truly being tested.
“And you left them,” Alecia said, the sharp tone of her voice cutting through Amanda. “Now you want to go back to celebrate a religious holiday with them? Don’t they shun those who leave?”
Amanda took a deep breath and counted to ten. She didn’t want to explain, again, that she had never become a baptized member of the church. The stereotypes the media promoted were common among the public, and that included Alecia. “They can’t shun people who never took the kneeling vow, Alecia,” she said with a calm she did not feel.
There was no more time for the conversation to continue. The sound of running feet and happy voices burst through the doors, causing both Amanda and Alecia to look up as Sofia ran into the room. Nicolas trailed behind her.
“Abuela!” Sofia reached her grandmother first and gave her a warm hug, even as Nicolas tried to wedge his way between them. “Are you staying until Papi comes home?”
Pushing his sister away, Nicolas managed to work his way into Alecia’s arms. “Stay until Christmas!” he cried out.
Sofia gave him a little shove. “We’re going to Pennsylvania for Christmas, goose. Remember?”
Amanda was too tired to reprimand her for calling Nicolas names. She shifted her weight and leaned into her hip, one arm wrapped around her waist as she rubbed at her temples with her other hand.
“We aren’t seeing Abuela for Christmas?” Nicolas asked, a hint of sadness in his voice.
Amanda heard Sofia whisper in a too-loud voice, “We’re seeing our other grandmother.”
Inwardly, Amanda groaned, knowing that this was not exactly helping her.
Despite Amanda’s family’s own simple life on the farm, Alecia never hesitated to remind anyone willing to listen how she had been a single mother when she emigrated from Cuba with Alejandro. Raising a child alone in a new country, with a different language, had not been easy for her, especially as Alejandro had been unruly, even then. Her survival and his success had translated into a victory against adversity, giving her a feeling of personal superiority that she did not hesitate to lord over others.
And that especially included any occasion when she felt her grandmother status threatened.
Over the years, she had grown increasingly vocal about her opinion that there was only one good thing that had emerged from Lititz, Pennsylvania: Amanda. And at the mention of anything related to her daughter-in-law’s family, the tension in the room became palpable.
Now was no exception.
“Why are we going there without Abuela?” Nicolas cried out, turning to look at his mother.
“Nicolas, please!” Amanda said quickly, her tone much sharper than she intended it to sound.
But he ignored her plea. “Why can’t Abuela go with us?”
With a forced smile on her face, Alecia reached out for Nicolas’s hand. He took it and let her embrace him, not seeing the look that passed from his grandmother to his mother over the top of his head. “Such a fuss, no?” Alecia said. “And for such a big boy. No tears.”
He sniffled and used the back of his hand to wipe his eyes.
“Besides,” Alecia said, “who said you won’t be with me on Christmas?”
Sofia jumped up and down. “Are we coming back to Miami, then?”
“No,” Alecia said as she straightened her shoulders. With a look of victory on her face, she pivoted her gaze toward Amanda. “But I’ll be going with you to Pennsylvania.”
> Chapter Six
“It will be good for them to spend time with my family,” Amanda said as she stood in the center of her large walk-in closet. She wasn’t certain if she was trying to convince Alejandro or herself.
The children had slowly stopped grumbling about leaving Miami for the Christmas holiday, especially when Amanda told them about how they would make cookies, milk cows, and even ride in a horse and buggy. While Sofia made a face at the prospect of milking cows, Nicolas had perked up at the idea and started to get a little excited. Isadora, however, seemed pensive and did not comment about the upcoming trip. She often seemed to withdraw into her own thoughts at the mention of Pennsylvania and the Amish.
It was something Amanda had asked Grace to keep an eye on while she was traveling with Alejandro that week.
She riffled through some dresses. There were so many outfits in her closet, she never could decide and usually stuck with the same ones: a simple black skirt and white blouse or a plain black dress. “They can learn a lot from my family,” she continued. “How to make do with less.” Frustrated with the clothes clogging her closet, she gestured with her hand toward the racks. “Look at this, Alejandro. This is outrageous. Where does all of this . . . this . . .”—she struggled to find the right word—“extravagance come from anyway?”
Alejandro looked up from where he was leaning against the doorframe, having alternated between looking at his cell phone and watching Amanda as she assessed the different outfits. He didn’t appear concerned as he lightly commented, “That’s Jeremy for you. Always wanted the best for you, sí?”
“The best for me?” She dropped her hand to her hip and stared at him. Hadn’t he seen the price tags still hanging on some of the clothes? “Who pays for all of this? Not Jeremy!” she said. “And I certainly don’t need so much. It’s obscene.”
She paused, waiting for him to look up from his cell phone. When he did, he gave her a sheepish look at having been caught not giving her his undivided attention.
“Seriously, Alejandro,” she said with a heavy sigh. “I’ll never wear half of these outfits. You shouldn’t listen to Jeremy when he tells you I need so much.” She riffled through several more items on the rack and sighed. “Truly, he needs to stop wasting so much money—our money!—on having you buy me clothes just for the sake of buying.”
Alejandro raised an eyebrow. “Most women would be thrilled to have their own fashion designer, sí?”
“And most men would be thrilled to have a wife who detests shopping,” she pointed out.
He laughed and returned his attention to his cell phone.
On the large upholstered bench in the middle of the room, there were rows of shoes waiting for Amanda’s approval. Numerous dresses, skirts, and tops were already pulled from the racks, each one with a tag hanging from the padded hanger to identify at which event she was supposed to wear it. She selected one of the more colorful outfits and put it back on a rack before she withdrew a black dress to replace it.
“Isadora has become addicted to technology,” Amanda commented. “She’s hardly ever off that cell phone.”
Alejandro gave another short laugh.
“Hmm,” Amanda said, casting a glance over her shoulder in time to see him look guilty as he slid his phone into his back pocket. “I wonder where she gets that from, ja?”
His blue eyes flashed at her, and he crossed his arms over his chest. With his short-sleeved white shirt and khaki shorts, he looked tan and fit, hardly changed at all since they had met almost ten years ago. “There are worse things,” he teased. “Such as having to put up with mi madre for a week!”
She tried to not react to his comment.
She had waited until he returned from his trip to tell Alejandro about his mother’s intentions to accompany them to Pennsylvania. His initial response had been stunned silence, and then he’d laughed, thinking she was playing a silly joke on him. But after she repeated the conversation from the previous week, as well as her subsequent attempts to dissuade Alecia, Alejandro finally realized that she was serious.
For over an hour, he argued on the phone with his mother. Their heated conversation, spoken in rapid Spanish, hindered Amanda from understanding what they discussed. However, from the tone of his voice and the expression on his face, Amanda figured that she was better off not knowing. Amanda knew that when tempers flared between her husband and mother-in-law, it was better to step away.
When he’d hung up the phone, he’d stared at the wall for a moment, the color all but drained from his face. Amanda held her breath and waited anxiously while he collected his thoughts.
He had finally looked at her, and she could instantly tell by his expression that the conversation had not ended in their favor. Shutting his eyes and shaking his head, he simply said, “She’s determined to do this.” Then he’d crossed the room to the bar and poured himself a drink.
That had been two days ago.
Now, accepting that only a miracle would stop Alecia from joining her grandchildren on what should have been a sweet, rare visit with their Amish family, Amanda tried to focus on packing and maintaining a positive attitude.
“Mayhaps it won’t be so terrible,” she offered generously.
Alejandro grunted.
She knew that Alejandro had spoken with Alecia the day before, instructing her that this wasn’t a typical Christmas vacation. Celebrating the holidays with Amanda’s Amish relatives would not include ostentatious gift-giving or endless celebrations. But his attempts to dissuade Alecia only strengthened her resolve. So Alejandro had simply made it clear that he didn’t want any problems from her—and neither did Amanda.
“Alecia might find it interesting, don’t you think?”
He simply stared at her with a blank expression on his face.
“And the children do love her so. Especially Nicolas. If he starts to act unruly, she can help calm him down.”
Once again, he gave a slight shake of his head. “I don’t see this ending well, Amanda. We already know we’ll have our hands full dealing with the children without their precious television and Internet.”
Amanda stood still for a moment, still looking through the rack of clothing. While all of her outfits for the work-related cities were already selected by Jeremy and would somehow magically appear in her hotel room, she’d also need to pack some things for Pennsylvania. She knew that when they returned to Miami for the Jingle Ball concert, she’d have neither the time nor energy to do it.
“Isadora will survive,” she said as she reached out for another black dress and added it to her pile. “She has her entire life to be plugged into social media. And Sofia . . . those apps are just too mature for her. I don’t need to remind you of the horrible comments people post.”
Alejandro nodded. “And hopefully, the media will stay away.”
It was a constant battle trying to keep her children out of the limelight. After Sofia was born, the media had given the new parents a wide berth for a few weeks. But then the battle began for who would score the first photo of Sofia Diaz, daughter of Viper and La Princesa.
Vanity Fair won.
Reluctantly, and only after Alejandro and Geoffrey convinced her, Amanda had agreed to Vanity Fair writing an article about how her life had changed from that of an Amish girl to the wife of an international celebrity, all within such a short period of time. Amanda was very aware that the public hungered for more of her story.
But she hadn’t wanted to include her children in the spotlight so Amanda had allowed only one photograph to accompany the article: Amanda holding her newborn baby, with Isadora standing on her tippy-toes to peer at her sister while proud father Alejandro looked on. Unfortunately, it had gone viral. Instead of quelling the public’s interest, it had only fed it more.
Eight years later, Amanda was still trying to protect her children from the invasive cameras and the hordes of people that lingered near places that Amanda was known to visit with her children. The media interest in the liv
es of her children severely limited where Amanda could take them, at least not without security. News outlets vied for coveted photos of the Diaz children, some photographs bringing in six figures for the photographer and the agency that sold them to the news outlets.
And now there was the issue of social media. The very applications that Alejandro’s team used to keep “Viper” at the top of the entertainment industry undermined Amanda’s attempts to shield her children.
“Ay, Amanda!” He sounded exasperated. In truth, she hadn’t expected that he would agree with her. With a shake of his head, he stepped forward and took the black dress off the top of the pile. “Enough with the black. People will think you’re a widow,” he said and returned it to the closet. “Isadora is fine. She’s an American teenager.”
“Fourteen, Alejandro,” she said with careful reproach.
“A teenager.” He put his hands on her arms and turned her so that she had no choice but to face him. “She barely even uses Twitter or Instagram. She likes that other application anyway, that Snapchat.”
Amanda exhaled as she repeated, “Fourteen.”
“You worry too much.”
“A mother can never worry too much.”
He laughed and pulled her into his arms, gently holding her so that her cheek pressed against his shoulder. “You, Princesa, are the exception. There are no children better protected than ours, sí?”
But that’s the problem, she wanted to say. The security and lack of privacy created a bubble of isolation around her children. She knew what they were missing: afternoons in the park, playdates with friends, lying in the grass and watching the clouds. Her children did not have any of that. Instead, guards escorted them to play with friends who were vetted by security.
Unfortunately, Alejandro merely brushed off Amanda’s concerns, reminding her how lucky their children were to have such luxuries and opportunities in their life. Long ago, she’d abandoned pointing out the downside of easily gained luxuries. Luxury and unearned opportunities were two things that neither she nor Alejandro had when they were growing up—and those were the very two things that had contributed to their appreciation for hard work’s rewards. But it was an argument she never won.
