Page 29 of Dina's Favorite Mistake

But what if I’m wrong?

Who wouldn’t want Lola over me?

Lola. Young, carefree, devoid of baggage. Her history was squeaky clean, and she was exciting and sweet and lovely.

No matter how hard she tried, sometimes Dina envied Lola. She’d had the benefit of an older sister who screwed up so many times that she’d learned what not to do.

At least my mistakes spared her.

Dina looked at the window again, noting how much lower the sun was in the sky. It would be dark soon.What if something terrible has happened? An accident?

Lola did like to drive like a lunatic in that Gator she had outfitted for her use. What if she’d flipped over racing across the barren fields? Or fallen into a sinkhole?

On the verge of sending out a search party, Dina suddenly heard Lola’s raucous peals of laughter echoing in the distance. She rushed out of the parlor and down the hall, skidding to a halt as she spotted Lola and Steve.

The pair were covered in mud and grime and looked as if they’d been rolling around with pigs. Both were laughing and joking and smiling. They made a beautiful pair together, Lola with her dark hair and beauty queen looks and Steve sauntering like a cowboy next to her.

When was the last time I laughed like that? When was the last time I looked so happy?

Gutted, Dina retreated into the shadows as the two of them climbed the stairs to the second floor. They left a trail of muddy shoe prints and swirling dirt. Ignoring the painful throbbing ache in her chest, she decided to make herself useful and clean up the mess.

“Ama? What are you doing?” Camila asked a short time later.

“Mopping,” Dina replied matter-of-factly before wringing out the spinning mop with a few pumps of her foot on the bucket’s pedal. “What are you doing?”

“Ximena came by with this.” Camila held up a bright blue expanding folder. “She said it was in the safe in the cop’s room. She couldn’t get it last night because she didn’t have the code.”

“Can you put it on my desk?”

“Yes.” Camila didn’t move. She frowned and asked, “Why are you mopping?”

“There were muddy footprints on the floor.”

“So?”

“So, they needed to be cleaned up.”

“But we have people for that.”

“We?” Dina echoed. “When did you start paying the salaries around here?”

Camila exhaled loudly. “Why do you always do that?”

“Do what?” Dina scrubbed a particularly yucky spot on the floor.

“You always throw it in my face that I don’t pay for anything!”

Dina stopped cleaning and glanced at her daughter. “I’m not throwing it in your face. I’m stating a fact. You’re a child. You don’t work.”

“That’s not—.” Camila sighed again. “Never mind.”

“No. Wait.” She propped the mop up against the wall and called after her daughter who was now stomping down the hallway. “Camila! Please! I want to explain—.”

“I don’t care!”

Dina hesitated, unsure whether chasing after Camila would make things better or worse. She settled on giving her daughter space and finished cleaning the trail of muddy footprints, crouching down to wipe the stairs with a damp microfiber to make sure she got every last bit of dirt.

“Did someone make a mess?” Lola asked when she found Dina carrying the dirty mop bucket to the housekeeping room. “Or are you playing Cinderella again?”

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