Her godmother laughed, her full cheeks bright. “We all knew, honey. I think that poor boy you were pretending to date was the only one in the dark.”
Sylvie waved away the irrelevant conversation like trying to clear smoke from a burning toaster oven. “Do you know about a lawsuit in 1979?”
The strangeness of the question caused a crease in Regina’s forehead. “I was like eleven or twelve then, who am I supposed to have sued?”
“Not you.” Sylvie shook her head. “We sued Pastry King and they sued us, or vice versa. I’m not sure. The point is we sued each other but the record is sealed and I can’t see what happened.”
“Did you ask your grandma? If your grandpa sued somebody, she would know about it.”
“Mami is going to ask her. You know my presence stresses her out.”
Regina laughed. “It’s probably because you remind her so much of your grandpa. You’re both two bulls rampaging in china shops. Your passion can be—”
“A bit much?” Sylvie had heard the comparison all her life.
“I’m just saying, too much stress will send you into an early grave just like him. Let this stuff go, mija. Who cares about some old legal dispute?”
Sylvie swatted away the reasonable question. “I care, Madrina. What if there’s proof in there? A way to finally expose the Machados for what they did?”
Regina sighed. “Anybody that did anything is long dead, mija. You can’t carry on this ridiculous war. Look at this softball game we all have to go to now in the supposed name of charity. Can’t we just donate money to an actual cause? No, we have to spend a day sweating to keep this old pissing match alive. You have a chance to change this. To move on and focus your energy on yourself rather than wasting it on other people.”
Nodding, Sylvie agreed. “That’s a great idea. Everybody is going to be at the game. Somebody there has to know what happened.”
Rolling her blue eyes, Regina shook her head. “Didn’t you hear a word I said?”
“Of course I did, and I just said it was a great idea to talk to the family when we’re all going to be together.”
By the late afternoon, Sylvie had made her way to all seven locations scattered around the enormous and congested county. Tired, she was finally starting for home in her tranquil little corner of Miami Lakes.
By the time she made it beyond the security gates guarding a slew of villas nestled around one of the many man-made lakes that gave the city its name, she had a list of targets for the softball game.