Point Me to Tomorrow

by Veronica Chambers

  How did that expression go? Alicia all at once remembered—Necessity is the mother of invention. She’d invented the kind of cool, big-sister party-planning business that would have made all the difference when she herself was considering having a quinceañera. But it was too late now. What mattered was making sure that Carmela Ortega had a quince that was both memorable and meaningful, and that the partners in Amigas Inc. entrusted their business to someone—or some group of someones—who would do the business proud.

  THAT SATURDAY, Alicia woke up at seven to find the house unusually silent. Then she remembered. Maribelle had the day off, and her parents had attended a big political fund-raiser the night before. They would undoubtedly be sleeping in. It was rare to have the house almost to herself. So she changed into her swimsuit, went out, and tiptoed toward the pool.

  She rarely ever did laps anymore, but in the quiet of the morning, it felt good just to swim silently from one end of the pool to the other. Mr. Stevens was at a weekend economics conference, so there was no Surfing the New Economy class. And while the Cruz family pool was no substitute for the Atlantic Ocean, as she did her laps, she could close her eyes and picture herself paddling out and imagine the feel and taste of the salt water on her lips and skin.

  When she was done swimming, it was eight A.M., and she figured it was now not too early to text Jamie and Carmen. Hey, you guys, want to come over for breakfast and discuss the proposal? I’m making waffles.

  Alicia did not do much cooking, mostly because anything she might have made would have paled in comparison with the culinary masterpieces that Maribelle turned out on the regular. Still, ever since she was a kid, Alicia had loved making waffles. She must have been seven when Maribelle had first taught her how to make the batter and, holding her hand, let her pour it into the electric waffle iron. As she got older, she had experimented more and more with the ingredients. Sometimes she did just fruit, cutting up blueberries, strawberries, and bing cherries when she had them. Then she went through a sweet phase, adding chocolate chips, caramel swirls, even bits of marshmallow. Finally, she combined it all to make what she called an everything waffle, which was everything that she loved, all mixed into one big lump of battery goodness: strawberries, chocolate chips, marshmallows, and bits of almond and toffee for a bit of crunch. It was delicious. And while Maribelle frowned on this—“You should call it the dentist special! ¡Ay, niña!”—her friends loved it.

  Which was why, despite the earliness of the hour, Alicia soon received two responses for her invitation. Jamie wrote: Everything waffles? Give me 20 minutes.

  Carmen wrote: Yum. On my way.

  Alicia smiled. It was always so much fun to feed her friends. Throwing a robe on over her swimsuit, she went into the kitchen and began to mix up the ingredients.

  By the time Carmen and Jamie arrived, Alicia’s parents were up; they joined the girls at the breakfast table, in the middle of which was a big stack of everything waffles. And Maribelle had left a tropical fruit salad in the fridge with a note that said, To counteract the sugary disaster you will concoct in my absence. Jamie made the coffee—strong, just the way the Cruzes liked it. And Carmen brought over a loaf of her mother’s homemade banana bread.

  There were a few moments of silence as they all filled their plates and took their first satisfying bites. Then Alicia’s mother asked, “So, how goes it with the mystery quince?”

  Alicia took out the folder that the Reinoso cousins had prepared. “Well, that’s actually why I invited Carmen and Jamie over to breakfast. We’ve got a lot to discuss.”

  She filled her parents in on Carolina’s and Patricia’s business proposal, in which the cousins suggested that they apprentice under the three girls for the rest of the school year, then take over when the original members all left for college.

  “Well, what do you think of their ideas for the mystery quince?” her mother asked, taking a sip of her coffee.

  Alicia flipped the folder open. “Well, for one, I love the venue.”

  The Reinoso girls had suggested that Amigas Inc. rent Chez Gusteau, a fancy French restaurant with stunning views of the airport runways.

  “I can’t believe we’ve never thought of having a quince there before,” Alicia said. “It’s so modern, so global chic to be turning fifteen and watching planes take off for destinations all over the world.”

  Carmen agreed. “It’s a wonderful space, and I wonder, do you think the president will loan Carmela Ortega Air Force One?”

  Alicia’s father almost choked on his waffle. “Do you guys honestly think that the president loans out his personal, paid-for-by-taxpayers plane for a teenage girl to travel to her birthday party in Miami?”

  Holding the pan with a pot holder, Alicia brought a warm stack of waffles to the table. “It’s not just any birthday party,” she said. “It’s Carmela Ortega’s quince.”

  Her father shook his head in mock distress. “Hijas, please, take your heads out of the clouds and return to planet earth.”

  Alicia’s mother weighed in. “It doesn’t matter. If it is actually her, she and probably many of her guests will be arriving by airplane, so being near the airport will be nice.”

  “I like the venue,” Jamie commented. “Now, does that eliminate the need for us to find a caterer?”

  Alicia pulled out a paper-clipped stack of menus. “The Reinoso girls got the chef at the restaurant to propose several different menus. These all look really good to me. We can e-mail them to Julia Centavo. We need the girls to send us an electronic version.”

  Jamie lifted her phone and said, “Just checked the Amigas Inc. e-mail address. They’ve already sent an electronic version. So, which menu do you like, Lici? I kind of love the French brasserie menu: the mussels and fries; the mini hamburgers; the mini ham sandwiches.”

  Alicia considered. It all sounded delicious, but even so, she said, “I like the French Polynesian menu. It’s imaginative but sounds really tasty, but formal enough for a sit-down: coconut crabmeat soup, roasted pork and ginger fried rice, pineapple upside-down cake. Yum, pineapple upside-down cake is my favorite.”

  Carmen held up a brightly colored sheet of paper. “Look at this supercute menu of nonalcoholic ‘mocktails.’ I love the Tiki hut theme and illustrations.”

  Alicia examined the drinks menu. “These illustrations read a little young to me. But the idea of a mocktail menu I love, love, love.”

  Her mother said, “It sounds like you guys are suitably impressed. Are Carolina and Patricia hired?”

  Alicia turned to her friends. “¿Qué piensan? I think they’ve gone above and beyond. It’s not all ready to go, but it definitely shows they’ve got a knack for this.”

  Jamie raised her hand.

  “Yes, Jamie?” Alicia asked, amused.

  “I’m voting yes, because I’ve actually got to—” Jamie began.

  “Dash,” Alicia said, finishing her sentence for her.

  “Exactly,” Jamie beamed. She gulped down the rest of her orange juice and hugged Alicia’s parents.

  “Even if we hire the Reinosos, we’ve actually still got a lot of work to do on Carmela’s quince,” Alicia yelled to Jamie, who was click-clacking down the hall in her kitten heels.

  “I know,” Jamie called out over her shoulder. “Sign me up for photography, videography, favors, and overall fabulous touches.”

  Alicia shook her head. If anyone else had made that statement she would’ve accused them of passing the buck. But she knew that what Jamie promised was exactly what Jamie could be counted on to deliver—especially the “overall fabulous touches.”

  “So, it’s just you and me, Carmen,” Alicia observed.

  Carmen stood up sheepishly and mumbled, “Can I get a couple of everything waffles to go? Maxo’s grandmother is visiting from New York, and I’m trying to make her a blanket of traditional Haitian prayer flags, and let’s just say I’ve bitten off more than I can sew.”

  Alicia sighed. “But what am I going to do? Juli
a Centavo is expecting a proposal by Monday.”

  Carmen squeezed her friend’s shoulder, “Well, why don’t you make any changes you want to the electronic file and then we’ll tell Carolina and Patricia tonight that they are hired and they can do the rest. They are going to be so-o-o-o excited.”

  “Well, okay,” Alicia said.

  A few minutes after Carmen left, Alicia heard the doorbell ring. She assumed that Carmen had forgotten something—a scarf or some other accessory she’d made that Alicia would have been perfectly happy to keep. She was surprised to see Gaz at the front door.

  He kissed her deeply. “Hola, stranger.”

  She smiled, feeling thankful that she’d brushed her teeth right after breakfast!

  “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  He grinned. “I was sort of, kind of, not anywhere near here. But I missed you, and I don’t have to be at work until four. So I thought I’d drop by.”

  Alicia pouted. “You don’t have to be at work until later, but I’ve really got to work now. I’ve got to focus on this proposal for Carmela Ortega’s quince. Do you have any interest in helping me?” she asked, hopefully.

  “That depends,” Gaz said flirtatiously. “Do you have any interest in feeding me? Because I will work for food.”

  Three hours, six everything waffles, two Gorgonzola-stuffed burgers, four cans of Coca-Cola, and half a cheesecake later, this was what Alicia e-mailed her mystery client:

  Dear Ms. Centavo,

  It is with great pleasure that we offer the following proposal for your client’s fifteenth-birthday celebration. As soon as you let us know your preferences, we will begin to finalize the details.

  Location:

  Chez Gusteau

  This traditional French restaurant offers stunning views of planes landing and arriving at Miami International Airport. Double-paned windows ensure that noise is not an issue.

  Theme:

  Paris Nights, Miami Mornings

  Our basic concept is that your client, whoever she is, is a girl of the world. With the Miami airport as our backdrop and the French restaurant as the venue, we think that this theme will give us a lot of room to be creative and will be singularly evocative for both the girl of honor and her guests.

  Color scheme:

  We envision this as a clean, ultrasophisticated event. We would suggest a sharp black-and-white color scheme, with hot pink as the accent color.

  Menu:

  The space would be divided into two rooms. The formal dining room, with the theme “Paris Nights,” would offer a French-inspired sit-down meal. We are including several menus, including a contemporary French Polynesian fusion menu and a classic Parisian brasserie menu.

  The second room would serve as the reception area and then later as the dance space, where, designwise, we would focus on “Miami Mornings.” We would also offer a selection of nonalcoholic cocktails, aka “mocktails,” with illustrations that would be slightly more sophisticated than what you see here.

  Flowers:

  Please see the attached JPEGs for samples of bouquets from a new florist we are considering, Garden and Bloom.

  Activities and favors:

  In the courtyard of the restaurant, in between the reception and the sit-down meal areas, we would like to suggest constructing a backdrop where guests can have their pictures taken. Some thoughts for the backdrop would be a Parisian street scene, a luxury jet, and an image of Miami Beach. Your quince and her friends are people who are going places, and they would enjoy posing for these photos, as well as taking small framed photos home as keepsakes at the end of the evening.

  After dinner, while a band plays indoors, we would cover the photo backdrop with a white sheet and project a movie in the breezeway of the restaurant. Guests could choose between dancing indoors and gathering on couches to watch a classic Hollywood film. The film would, of course, be of your client’s choosing.

  Immediate pending items:

  Dress designs. Will your client be needing a dress? Or will she be bringing one? We have an excellent designer/seamstress on our team.

  Father-daughter vals. How might we help your client with the choreography of this very important element, considering that we are not meeting her until the day of the event?

  Damas and chambelanes. Traditionally, the quince is attended by a court of seven girls (damas) and seven boys (chambelanes). How would you like us to handle this group? We usually dress or source their outfits as well as handling any special choreography they might require.

  Church ceremony. If your client is Catholic: We’ve worked with some of the most beautiful churches in the area and can arrange meetings as you need them.

  Just as Alicia was about to hit send, Gaz, who had single-handedly polished off three pieces of cheesecake, shyly said, “I know this client is a big deal. Maybe the biggest deal you’ve ever represented. But would you feel comfortable presenting my music to her to consider for the performance?”

  Alicia paused.

  Gaz took her silence for a rejection. He looked down and said, “Hey, Lici, forget I even asked. It’s no big deal. You’ve hooked me and the band up with so many gigs. I understand you’ve got a very particular concept for this quince.”

  Alicia shook her head. “Oh, no, Gaz. Not at all. I was just thinking about how to present your music as the main option without saying, ‘He’s my boyfriend and he’s awesome.’”

  She tapped a few lines out on her laptop.

  Music:

  We are really proud to have worked a number of times with local singer-songwriter Gaspar Colón. We are confident that he and his band can offer a wide range of musical options, from traditional salsa to more modern compositions and pop covers. Please listen to the enclosed MP3 files and let us know your thoughts.

  She read the passage to Gaz and asked, “Does that sound good?”

  He hugged her and kissed her again and again. “Better than good, Lici,” he replied. “It sounds amazing. This is why I love you. When I’m around you, I feel like I can do anything.”

  She kissed him playfully on the neck. “Right back atcha, handsome. Not every guy would spend a Saturday afternoon helping his girlfriend put together a proposal for a VIQ.”

  “Very Important Quince?” Gaz guessed.

  “Exactly,” Alicia smiled, as she sent the e-mail off to Julia Centavo.

  “Well, not every guy has a girlfriend who can cook waffles like you and who’s so inspiring with all of her ideas,” Gaz said.

  “So, what you’re saying is that we’re perfect for each other,” Alicia said, winking at him.

  “That is exactly what I’m saying,” Gaz replied. He stood up, walked over to where she was sitting, and lifted her fingers off the keyboard. He put the laptop aside and proceeded to kiss her from the tips of her fingers to the top of her shoulder and then back down to her fingers again. It was the most romantic, thrilling thing Alicia had ever seen or felt.

  ON SUNDAY MORNING, Alicia logged in to the Amigas Inc. e-mail account and was pleased to see that Julia Centavo had already gotten back to them. She read over the e-mail and called both Carmen and Jamie on her parents’ conference line.

  “So, what did she say?” Jamie asked.

  “She loves all of it,” Alicia explained, “and so does her client. But they have a few requests. Apparently, the girl’s favorite flowers are yellow sunflowers. So they’d like the room to be full of sunflowers.”

  Carmen groaned. “But we hate sunflowers.”

  Jamie agreed. “Sunflowers are not chic.”

  Alicia hated this part of the job—when you conceived of the perfect, absolutely flawless quince and the client ruined it by having a request that was either cornball cheesy or aesthetically misguided.

  “Look,” Alicia said diplomatically, “I think sunflowers are fine for farms and country inns, but not city homes or formal parties. It is my least favorite flower in the entire world. But this is not my quince, and the client is always right. So, su
nflowers it is.”

  “Okay, so much for loving all of our ideas,” Jamie grumbled. “Well, really Gaz’s and our ideas. Why did we ever let him quit the Amigas?”

  “Because, one, he hated being part of a group called Amigas Inc., and, two, his music career is on fire,” Alicia explained. “Speaking of which, they actually love Gaz’s music, so he’ll be the house band. Which is amazing. Tremendous exposure for him.”

  “Great, terrific,” Jamie muttered. “So, tell me more about the terrible choices they’ve made. That’s more interesting.”

  Alicia scanned the e-mail. “They don’t like the color scheme.”

  Now it was Carmen’s turn to be bent out of shape. “You’re kidding me, right? Black, white, and hot pink is so, well, hot. It’s more than hot, it’s so totally high class it’s haute.”

  Alicia rolled over in bed and read the e-mail more closely. “I know it’s haute. You know it’s haute. But they would like red, white, and blue. For obvious reasons, I guess.”

  Carmen was still not convinced. “I get it, she’s a DC It Girl, and more power to her. But red, white, and blue in Miami? In December? It’s going to look like we got all her quince gear at some Fourth of July clearance sale.”

  Alicia laughed, “I know, Carmen. That’s neither hot nor haute. But we’ll make it work. We always do.”

  Jamie piped up and asked, “Is there any more of this mayhem and foolishness?”

  Alicia read down the list. “No church ceremony, too polarizing for this multicultural crowd. No damas and chambelanes, too much like the British monarchy, and the client needs to represent more democratic ideals.”