How Tia Lola Ended Up Starting Over

by Julia Alvarez

  It is Friday night of the guinea-pig weekend at Tía Lola’s B&B. The guests are being shown to their rooms before walking down the block to dinner at Rudy’s café.

  Since its theme was her idea, Victoria gets to escort Carmen to the romantic bedroom.

  “It’s like a bride’s fantasy in here!” Carmen exclaims, turning circles in delight. The curtains are lacy and white and held back by pale pink sashes. The bed is strewn with rose petals, and there’s a white canopy overhead with little doves dangling down. Even the air smells perfumed with roses.

  “Do you really like it?” Victoria asks timidly.

  “What do you mean? I adore it!” Carmen cries, hugging the pleased girl.

  Victoria is relieved. Most of the little touches were her idea. But for days, every time Essie would walk by the room, she’d pretend she was going to be sick.

  Next door, Abuelita and Abuelito are full of admiration for their tropical bedroom. “¡Un paradiso de verdad!” they tell Cari and Juanita. A real paradise. “Like being back in the Dominican Republic!” Who would have thought that by driving six hours north, Abuelito and Abuelita would feel closer to the tropical island they miss so much?

  Meanwhile, at the end of the hall, Víctor and Essie and Miguel are showing Papi his room. It is packed with baseball memorabilia, including a life-size cutout of David Ortiz standing guard by the door. Even though Miguel’s papi is a Yankees fan, he loves the Red Sox slugger Big Papi, whose name he shares. “Amazing how you guys pulled this together.” Papi shakes his head in disbelief. Suddenly his eye is caught by the sign above the bed. “Is this for real? I mean, I thought we were your first guests.”

  “You are our first guests,” Víctor confirms.

  “But what about that sign?”

  Víctor looks in the direction Papi is pointing. “Essie?” Víctor asks like it’s a question, but he already seems to know the answer.

  “Well, it’s just decoration …,” Essie grumbles.

  “It’s false advertising, is what it is.” Even if he doesn’t practice law ever again, Papa will never get rid of the lawyer he once was. “Please remove it, Essie.”

  But Miguel’s father persuades Víctor to keep the sign with a slight revision. Using Essie’s marker, Papi inserts a few teensy words, so that the sign now accurately reads:

  Meanwhile, upstairs in the attic, Tía Lola has finished unpacking her things in the big front attic room, where she will be sleeping. It’s a large, cozy room, where the kids like to hold their meetings. A bank of windows looks out on the street, so Tía Lola can check on the comings and goings of her guests. She also has a bird’s-eye view of the majestic maple tree with brilliant leaves in the front yard. Tía Lola opens the window and leans out to take a breath of fresh air.

  Suddenly she remembers the letter. She sits down on the foldout couch and pulls the envelope out of her pocket.

  This morning, Tía Lola had set out to town on her bicycle to put the finishing touches on Colonel Charlebois’s house while the children were all in school and Mami was at work. As Tía Lola was riding past the house with the B&B sign, a big, red-faced woman rushed out and flagged her down.

  “Buenos días, good morning! How are you?” Tía Lola began. Not that she needed to ask. She could already tell from the look on the B&B woman’s face, and the violent way she thrust the letter at Tía Lola’s chest, like a punch, that the lady was very angry.

  “¿Qué pasa?” Tía Lola blurted out. What was wrong? By now, she knew enough English to be able to ask this question in her new language. But she was so flabbergasted by the punched missive that the words tumbled out of her mouth in Spanish.

  “This is America, and in case you haven’t noticed, we speak ENGLISH in this country.” The way the lady said “ENGLISH” made spit spray from her mouth.

  Tía Lola wiped her face with her lucky yellow scarf, which made her feel better. “I can speak a little English, Mrs. B&B,” she offered in a friendly voice.

  “My name is not Mrs. B&B!” the lady snapped back. “I’m Odette Beauregard. Mrs. Beauregard to you.”

  “Very pleased to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Beauregard.” Tía Lola was about to give the woman a kiss on the cheek, which is how Tía Lola normally greets everybody. But Tía Lola was left kissing the air. The woman had already turned on her heels and marched back into her house, slamming the door behind her, although there was a sign on it saying DO NOT LET THE DOOR SLAM.

  Tía Lola stood gazing at the unpainted, ramshackle house with the VACANCY sign out front. What could have upset the woman so? As she was getting back on her bike, Tía Lola caught sight of a pale girl who had been raking leaves in the backyard. She lifted a hand in greeting. Tía Lola waved back, but she didn’t dare say a word, as the poor girl looked terrified.

  Tía Lola stuck the letter in her pocket and rode into town. She didn’t actually forget the incident, but soon she was caught up in all there was to do: checking all the guest rooms; making her little animal candies; drawing up the breakfast menus and going grocery shopping with Víctor. Then the kids all came back from school. Mami swung by after work to pick up the colonel and his suitcase. The guinea-pig guests arrived shortly thereafter and had to be settled in. At long last, everybody is taking a short rest before setting out for the dinner special that Rudy is offering at his café to all of Tía Lola’s guests.

  Tía Lola gazes down at the envelope in her hand. It is addressed, “To Tía Lola’s B&B.” How did the woman even know that Tía Lola’s B&B was in the works? There is no sign up front. There has been no notice in the paper. In fact, only two people in town know of the B&B plan: Rudy, of course, as they had to tell him in order to arrange the dinner special for their guests; and Stargazer, who helped out with some of the decorating, including ordering things like the dangling doves, the Big Papi cutout, the parrot lamp that sits on the bedside table between the two beds in Abuelito and Abuelita’s room.

  So how did Mrs. Beauregard find out about Tía Lola’s B&B? Only one way that Tía Lola can figure out. Her little niece Juanita finds it extremely hard to keep a secret. Just yesterday, Juanita mentioned the visit she had with Mrs. Beauregard’s daughter, who actually bought three boxes of the chocolate mints Juanita was selling to help pay for her class’s field trips this year. The teenage daughter was in the backyard raking leaves and waved her over. She seemed so lonely. What was really weird is that she asked Juanita not to mention the purchase to her mother, if Juanita happened to run into her.

  Juanita would not want to hurt the daughter’s feelings, but if she ever saw Mrs. Beauregard coming toward her, sorry, but Juanita would run away from her. In fact, the only reason Juanita even stepped foot on the property was because she’d already seen Mrs. Beauregard pulling out of her driveway in her big black Buick.

  Tía Lola opens the envelope and unfolds the letter. Of course, it is written in English, but Tía Lola can tell that Mrs. Beauregard is very upset: the handwriting looks like slashes on the page. Something something about “a foreigner opening a B&B.” Then something something about “decent Americans being prevented from earning a living because of people like you.” On and on and on. Toward the end of the letter, Tía Lola can pick out the words “report” and “authorities.” Mrs. Beauregard is threatening to report Tía Lola to the authorities? But what has Tía Lola done wrong that she should get in trouble for?

  Tía Lola considers taking the letter to the children or to Víctor to translate. But why ruin this guinea-pig weekend with unpleasant news? A nice dinner awaits them at Amigos Café, and then tomorrow, Juanita’s birthday. Mami and Tía Lola have planned a party out at the farmhouse. All week, Víctor and the colonel and the children have been so happy. Tía Lola folds the letter back in the envelope and puts the envelope in her pocket.

  Dinner at Amigos Café is not only delicious, but homey, like a meal at a friend’s house, including as many helpings as you want at no extra charge.

  Everyone lingers over dessert, even Abuelito and Ab
uelita, who are usually in bed by now.

  As the talk starts winding down, Tía Lola slips out of the restaurant and walks down the street to the colonel’s house. She wants to be sure to turn on the outdoor lights so her guests don’t trip on the cracks in the sidewalk or crash into the prickly holly bush on their way back. She’ll also pull down the shades in each bedroom and fold back the blankets, just like in fancy hotels. On each pillow, she will place a little surprise: a candied guinea pig she made earlier today—an inside joke the children will appreciate.

  To Tía Lola’s astonishment, the front door and—when she checks—the back door are locked! All the windows are secure. What is going on? Tía Lola is sure she left the front door unlocked, as they were just going down the block to Amigos Café. Nobody in Bridgeport ever locks up their house, unless they are going to be away for a long time, like the snowbirds who head for Florida before the first snowfall.

  In just a few minutes, Tía Lola’s B&B guests are going to be coming down the sidewalk, exhausted after a long drive and a big dinner. The last thing they need is to be locked out of their B&B and have to find alternative accommodations until a locksmith can come in the morning. What to do?

  After trying a few windows again, without luck, Tía Lola recalls one window that she is sure is open. The only problem is that it is three stories up in her attic bedroom! Just as she’s wondering what to do, Tía Lola hears the rustling of leaves as the wind blows through the maple tree. Tía Lola speaks Spanish and a little English, but until this moment, she had no idea she could understand trees.

  Tía Lola, climb me! the maple is saying.

  Tía Lola gazes up and up at the tall tree. It has been a good forty-five years since she was a girl and climbed any kind of a tree. Con paciencia y con calma, se subió un burro en una palma, she reminds herself, a favorite saying of hers. With patience and calm, even a burro can climb a palm tree.

  Tía Lola isn’t sure that she can climb a maple tree, no matter how calm or patient she is. But she must try. Mami will no doubt view any fiasco as proof that this B&B is a foolish idea. Tía Lola must save this guinea-pig weekend from disaster! She lifts the hem of her flowered skirt and tucks it into her waistband. Then for good luck, she kisses the yellow scarf tied around her neck.

  “One, two, three!” she whispers. But Tía Lola is still standing on the ground at the count of three, looking up at the tall tree. Maybe she needs to count in Spanish instead? “¡Uno, dos, tres!” she starts over. At the count of tres, Tía Lola is still standing in front of Colonel Charlebois’s house, her two feet firmly on the ground.

  But that lucky scarf works wonders. It just so happens that when Tía Lola stepped out of Amigos Café, one person noticed her departure. This person happens to be a pro at climbing trees. In fact, if there were a tree-climbing category in the Olympics, this person would stand a good chance of winning the gold.

  As Miguel hurries down the street after his aunt, a car turns the corner and lights up a figure in front of Colonel Charlebois’s house. Tía Lola! She looks like she just took a flying leap off the ground and caught hold of a low branch on the maple tree. Now she is dangling there with a surprised look on her face. “Tía Lola,” Miguel calls out. “What on earth are you doing?”

  “I’m not on earth,” Tía Lola calls back. That’s the problem. She’s three feet above the ground, holding on for dear life, too dizzy to look down and too frightened to climb up on the next branch.

  Miguel runs over to where his aunt is hanging like a Christmas ornament. A terrified Christmas ornament. “Get down, Tía Lola,” Miguel calls up to his aunt.

  “But I don’t want to get down. I want to get up!” Tía Lola explains. And then, very briefly, since it’s hard to go into details when you are hanging from a tree and slowly losing your grip, Tía Lola tells her nephew the problem. The house is locked. They have to get inside to turn on the lights so their guests can find their way safely back. The only open window is the one in her attic bedroom, which looks out onto the maple tree.

  “I’ll get it, Tía Lola. You just get down, okay?”

  Before Tía Lola has landed on the ground, Miguel is halfway up the maple tree. Soon Tía Lola can hear him scrambling through the window. Her attic-room light comes on. Seconds later, the hallway on the second floor lights up, then the first-floor entry light. The front door opens and her nephew is running out to check on her.

  “Come on in, Tía Lola,” Miguel says, helping his aunt to her feet.

  As she stands up, Tía Lola wipes her sweaty brow with her yellow scarf. Off comes the beauty mark on her forehead, along with her perspiration. “Thank you so much, Miguel. You have saved the situation.”

  “No problem, Tía Lola. But I’m just curious. Why’d you lock the house? Are you afraid there’s more burglars in town or something?” It doesn’t seem like Tía Lola to expect the worst of anybody.

  But right now Tía Lola is thinking the worst of a certain person who may very well want her new B&B to fail. But again, Tía Lola does not want to upset her nephew or ruin this weekend for anybody. And in the scheme of things, this really is a harmless prank. What else can go wrong, anyway?

  Besides, now’s not the time to try to solve the B&B lockdown mystery. They’d better hurry inside and get the bedrooms ready. Just this moment, a group of happy people are coming down the street toward the house. Leading the way is Colonel Charlebois, arm in arm with Mami and Víctor. Abuelita and Abuelito follow, hand in hand. The girls and Tía Carmen and Papi bring up the rear.

  They are all tired, but their hearts are warm and their bellies are full. Up ahead is the lovely Victorian house where some of them will be sleeping. Beside it stands a majestic maple, like the ones in posters advertising New England vacations. The front walk is nicely lit, and inside, their sparkling rooms await them with beds turned down, shades pulled, and an adorable Vermont critter propped on each pillow, wishing them sweet dreams and a restful night.

  Ahead stretch two happy days of fun and friendship, a dazzling success of a guinea-pig weekend. In fact, every guest will leave a tip on their bedside table and a little smiley face or thank-you or gracias penned on their guest notepads. And in the suggestion box, which an insecure Victoria and her worrywart father set up by the front door, they will find raves about how Tía Lola’s B&B has to continue! Only two people know how close they came to disaster, and of those two, only one suspects who might be responsible.

  How Juanita Ran Away from Home

  Juanita is feeling glum. Don’t get her wrong, her birthday party was a blast. But now she has to wait a whole year before having another one.

  From being the birthday girl, Juanita is back to being just another girl in a crowd. Even though her mother and Víctor aren’t married, the two families are constantly together. Miguel still gets to be the only boy, but Juanita is now one of four girls. She’s not spunky like Essie, or cute like Cari, or responsible like Victoria, so nobody notices Juanita-what’s-her-name. In fact, Víctor can’t seem to keep her straight: “Victoria, oops, Cari, I mean Essie, so sorry, Juanita.”

  Only with Papi does Juanita still get to be the one and only daughter. That, too, might change when Papi and Carmen get married. What if they have a baby? What if it’s a boy? From all reports, little brothers are a pain in the butt. But what if it’s a girl: a cute, spunky, responsible little sister who hogs all the attention away from Juanita?

  Juanita wishes she could go back to being a little kid herself! Really little, like when she lived in New York City, and her parents were together, and she was in preschool with her best friend, Ming, who actually called yesterday in the middle of Juanita’s birthday party. Juanita couldn’t talk then, but she promised to call her friend back.

  Sunday afternoon, after Papi and Carmen and her grandparents leave, Juanita asks Mami if she can call Ming.

  “Have you finished your homework?”

  “Not yet.”

  “You’re a big girl now, Nita, honey. I shouldn’t ha
ve to be reminding you to do your homework.” Mami sighs, as if Juanita’s being ten is tiring her out already.

  As Juanita heads upstairs to tackle her homework, Mami has another reminder. “Don’t forget to fold your clothes neatly in your drawers when you unpack your weekend bag. I shouldn’t have to be picking up after you.”

  Had Juanita known that being ten would come with this laundry list of responsibilities, she would have given up having a birthday altogether.

  “Remember, lights out promptly tonight. Now that you’re a big girl, you’re going to have to be a little better about getting yourself out to the bus on time.”

  The hard work of being a double-digit tween has begun.

  Just as Juanita is finishing her homework, the phone rings. She’s already halfway down the stairs when she hears her mother saying, “Let me see if she’s available.” It’s as if Juanita is the president of a company who needs a secretary to schedule her phone conversations.

  Mami has walked the phone out of the kitchen, covering the mouthpiece. “It’s Ming,” she says, and then unbelievably mouths, “Are you done with your homework?”

  “Wow, that’s horrible!” Ming commiserates when Juanita catches her up on what’s been happening since she turned ten. “It sounds like a prison up there.” Ming is nothing if not sympathetic. But sometimes her friend’s sympathy makes Juanita feel even worse. “If my parents treated me like that, I’d—I don’t know—I’d run away from home.”

  That is a great idea! Juanita will run away from home. That’ll make Mami realize she can’t be so hard on a new ten-year-old. “But where can I go?”

  “You can come to our apartment. I’ll hide you in my room. I’ll bring you food from the table. When my parents go to work, you can come out and meet me at school.”

  As improbable as the plan sounds at first, it starts seeming possible the more Ming talks. All together, Juanita got just over a hundred dollars in cash for her birthday. That should cover a one-way bus ticket to New York City. Of course, once Juanita is on that bus, roaring away down the highways of her imagination, the plan becomes a little fuzzier and worrisome. How will Juanita get from the bus station to Ming’s apartment? How will Ming let her in without her parents knowing?