Page 35 of Cryptic Curse

I wipe my hands on my apron.

“All right,” Star says.“Let’s serve this up and call those hungry men and women in for dinner.”

11

HAWK

Seems strange sitting down at our large dining room without Dad here.

His spot at the head of the table is empty.

I stand by it, my hand on the back of the chair, waiting to see where everyone else ends up before I take my place.

But before I can, my mother whisks past me.“That’s your father’s chair, Hawk.”

I resist rolling my eyes.Of course it’s my father’s chair.I wasn’t expecting to sit here.

I can’t help but wonder, though, if Falcon or Eagle would get the same attitude from her if one of them tried to sit here.

I’m just standing here as I wait for everyone else to take their seats.

We have Vinnie here plus Daniela and Belinda, and I want them to find spots where they want to sit.If one of them ends up in my normal spot, so be it.I’ll take a different one.

I want to tell my mother all of this, but I don’t.I stay silent to keep the peace.To do otherwise would ruin what is supposed to be a celebration for Raven and Vinnie.

I simply nod and say, “I know.I’m just waiting for everyone to get settled.”

Falcon finds his normal spot, and Savannah sits next to him.Eagle finds his usual place as well.

Daniela and Belinda take seats as directed by my mother.

Once everyone is seated, the only open seat—other than my father’s—is next to Eagle.

Great.

With no staff here tonight, we pass the dishes like a regular family.It’s nice actually.It helps that all the men in our family—even Eagle, who used to be a skinny little slip of a thing—have strong, toned arms to maneuver the heavy platters around the table.

“Daniela and I got a little creative in the kitchen tonight,” Mom says.“She suggested a variation of a Colombian favorite,bandeja paisa, incorporating some elements of Mexican cuisine.So we createdbandeja norteña.” She takes her seat.“Buen provecho!”

I take the first bite and have to close my eyes.

It’s the carne asada that hits me first—smoky, tender, with just enough spice.The beans are slow-cooked and rich, and a fried egg bleeds golden over the whole plate.I drag my fork through the yolk, scoop up a little of everything, and go back for more.

Savannah’s across from me.“Someone should call the food police,” she says through a mouthful of corn salad.

Mom beams.

I stab into theesquitesnext.The lime cuts through the richness, the cotija gives it a little salt, and a background note of heat builds with every bite.

“Holy hell,” I mutter, pointing at the bowl with my fork.“You’re trying to kill us.”

Mom smirks.“Better to die full and happy.”

“This shouldn’t work,” I say.“But it does.It really does.Mom, Daniela, Savannah, you all outdid yourselves tonight.”

Murmurs of agreement—from mostly full mouths—echo throughout the dining room.

“Just you wait until dessert,” Mom says.“Daniela suggested a secret ingredient for Savannah’s tres leches cake.”

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