“Eduardo,” his lawyer said quietly, “you need the money. The property needs repairs you can’t afford. Your revenue is dropping every month. This is a good offer.”
My father picked up the pen with a shaking hand. He signed page after page after page. Each signature seemed to age him a year.
When it was done, Richard collected the papers.
“Congratulations, Miss Torres. You’re now the owner of Casa Torres.”
I stood up and extended my hand to my father. “Thank you for your business.”
He looked at my hand like it was a snake, but he shook it. His palm was clammy.
“Can I ask you something?” he said.
“What?”
“Did you do this to hurt me?”
I considered lying. But what was the point?
“Yes,” I said. “Partly. But also because it’s a good investment, and because I’m going to do what you never could. Make it successful again.”
He nodded slowly. “I suppose I deserve that.”
“You deserve a lot more than that.”
My mother stood up. “Maya, can we talk, please?”
“I don’t think there’s anything to say.”
“Mama, please. Five minutes. Just you and me.”
I looked at Richard. He nodded.
“I’ll finalize the paperwork with Mr. Torres and his attorney.”
I followed my mother out to the hallway. She was still crying.
“I’m sorry,” she said immediately. “For all of it. For not standing up for you that night. For not defending you to your father. For not being a better mother.”
“Okay.”
“Is that all you can say?”
“Okay? What do you want me to say, Mama? That it’s fine? That I forgive you? I don’t. Not yet.”
“What can I do?”
“Nothing. There’s nothing you can do. The damage is done.”
“You’re my daughter.”
“Then you should have acted like it seven years ago.” I softened slightly. “Look, I don’t hate you. I’m not trying to hurt you. But I’m also not going to pretend everything is fine. You stood by and watched him destroy me. You chose him over me. That’s not something I can just forget.”
“I was scared,” she whispered. “Your father, when he gets angry… I didn’t know what to do.”
“You could have called me. You could have checked on me. You could have told me you believed in me.”
“I do believe in you. Look at what you’ve accomplished.”
“Now you believe in me. Now that there’s proof. But then, when I was struggling and needed you, you didn’t believe in me.”
She had no answer for that. We stood in uncomfortable silence.
“Are you really going to change everything about the restaurant?” she finally asked.
“Yes.”
“Your father’s recipes. They’re family history.”
“Then maybe you should have treated me like family when it mattered.”
She flinched. “That’s cruel.”
“Is it? Is it more cruel than watching your husband fire your daughter and saying nothing? Than choosing his pride over her well-being?”
“I was in an impossible position.”
“No, Mama. You were in an uncomfortable position. There’s a difference.”