Page 16 of Jack of Hearts
He put his hand on her arm. “Yeah, but listen. We need to talk, and I’m tired of sneaking around to see you. Meet me tomorrow for lunch.”
“Not a good idea.”
“I’ll call you in the morning. Maybe you’ll change your mind by then. Take care, Madison.”
After he walked away, she pressed her palm over her arm where his hand had been, still warm from his touch. Where was he going with Ramon? It still worried her that he appeared to be involved with her cousin’s business, and she needed to do some snooping, see what she could find out.
Ramon whispered something in his father’s ear before grabbing Trina’s hand and heading for the stairs, Alex following close behind. Why were they taking that woman with them? Madison tore her gaze away from the trio. This night sucked, and she was past ready to go home.
“Let’s go,” she said, walking up next to her mother.
“Not yet. Jose and I haven’t had our birthday champagne yet.”
Right. The champagne ritual. At the end of each birthday party, after the guests left, the twins would walk down to the beach, just the two of them, and would lift their flutes toward Cuba.
When Madison’s father and Jose’s wife were still alive, Madison would stand back with them, watching the twins. She’d once asked what they were saying and was told they were cursing Castro.
At the age of eleven, Jose and Angelina had arrived on the beach of Miami, along with their parents, having come over in a boat that probably should have sunk somewhere between Cuba and Florida. Somehow they’d made it, though, but their mother arrived sick and had died a week after finding freedom. For that, the twins blamed Castro, thus the annual curses.
Thunder rumbled in the distance. “It’s going to rain, so you should do that soon.” Since there was no way she was going to get her mother to leave before the ritual, Madison returned to her place at the railing. A few minutes later, her uncle and mother appeared below, and Madison watched as they opened the gate and walked down to the water.
At the ocean’s edge, they lifted their flutes of champagne and started yelling. The curses were made in Spanish, and although she couldn’t catch the words, Madison could pick up the sound of their voices. After a while, they clinked glasses, then drank the champagne. Jose put his arm around Angelina, and she leaned her head on his shoulder.
The twins had always been affectionate with each other, but it seemed to Madison that sometime after each had lost their spouses, they had grown even closer, if that was possible.
“How did the champagne tradition start?” she asked, after she’d finally convinced Angelina to leave. She wondered why she’d never asked that question before. The rain started, and she turned on the windshield wipers.
“Our father started it. Mother died on our birthday. Did you know that?”
“No, I don’t think I did.” She glanced over at her mother. Even at fifty-five, Angelina was still beautiful. Her shoulder-length dark brown hair was thick and glossy, and her olive skin flawless. But she was fragile, and without a man to take care of her, she was lost.
“It was a hard time for us. In Cuba, our father was important, a lawyer. Here? He was a nobody. He got a job selling shoes. But you know that already, don’t you?”
“I’ve heard it once or twice.” Or a hundred times. It was Jose’s favorite story, how their father was nothing in America. Jose liked to brag that he’d been the one to take advantage of all America had to offer.
Until recently, Madison had thought he’d made his money buying and selling real estate. He did do that, but a few weeks ago she’d overheard a conversation between her uncle and Ramon about moving some merchandise that had her suspicious about just what they were involved in.
“Yes, but you asked about the tradition of drinking champagne, so I will tell you that story.”
“Please do,” Madison said, glancing at her mother again.
“On the first anniversary of Mama’s death, on my birthday and Jose’s, Father took us to the beach. We yelled at Castro and then drank champagne to honor Mama’s memory. We continued to do that every year, even after Father died.”
Madison pulled into the driveway of her mother’s house. “You and Jose were only twelve that first time. Abuelo let you drink champagne?”
“Only a little. Goodness, it’s really raining. I should have stayed at Jose’s tonight.”
No, she shouldn’t have. As it was, Jose had hinted that his sister should move in to his house since it was so big and she was alone in hers. Aside from wanting to keep her mother out of Jose’s clutches, Madison loved her childhood home. She had been happy growing up here. Memories of her father were inside those walls.
Impulsively, she leaned over the console and hugged her mother. “Happy birthday. I love you.”
Angelina pressed her cheek against Madison’s. “I miss your father so much.”
“I know you do. Me, too.” She knew her mother was lonely but wasn’t sure what to do about it. “You want me to stay here tonight?”
“No, I’m tired and going straight to bed.” Angelina pulled away. “Did I thank you for my present? It was the perfect gift, Madison. I’m looking forward to a day at the spa.”
An idea occurred to her. “What would you think of working part-time at the bookstore in the afternoons?”
