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“A little funny if you think about it.” I lifted one shoulder nonchalantly, then walked towards my closet to grab clean clothes. “You can stay, but I’m taking a shower.”
“Okay,” he said, taking off his shoes and lying on the bed, propping his torso against the headboard. He took his phone out of his pocket and started scrolling through it, his thumbs moving quickly over the screen. He glared for a moment, then looked at me impatiently. “Go shower, and then we can go downstairs together.”
“Who even is downstairs that you are so scared of?” I laughed, walking to the attached bathroom and closing the door behind me. “You are a grown man!” I yelled through the closed door and heard his grunt in reply.
Once I was showered and dressed, I went back to my room to find Charlie lying on his side, head propped on his hand and scrolling on his phone. His expression was neutral, but every few seconds I could see how his jaw hardened. It was either something that he was looking at—which I doubted—or he was already in his head about something that had happened. All my bets were on the latter.
“What has you so stressed?” I asked as I put on my sandals. He was right; it was going to be a hot day. I looked out the window, and I could see the stillness in the trees.Those were the worst days, when there was not a single drop of breeze to cut down on the heat. “How can I help?”
“No one,” he said too quickly. He shook his head. “I mean, nothing.”
I turned towards the door and hid my grin. He had been extra grumpy for the past few years, but especially so since I had become head doctor at the practice. I never asked him if it was me, but I had a small inkling that he hated that people took advantage of my position in town, sending me texts at all hours of the night to help diagnose their kids. Because again, he respected everyone’s personal space and wanted his respected as well.
He followed me downstairs quietly. The hum of the kitchen was obvious from the landing. We walked all the way to the back of the house and found Jacinto and my father sitting at the kitchen table, having their morning coffee and chatting over each other. Valentina sat quietly to one side, listening in on the conversations.
I smiled as I walked to her. “What are you doing here?” I asked, taking a seat next to her. Charlie stood by the door, casting a furtive look in my friend’s direction.
“Coffee.” She shrugged, lifting her mug full of the hot liquid. “I was bored at home.”
“Maybe we should open the practice early again,” I said. She rolled her eyes in response, but the edges of her lips moved. I nudged her with my elbow. “I get bored too, you know?”
“Where is your brother?” my mother asked as shewalked into the room, her hair up in a messy bun. She was wearing leggings and a sleeveless shirt because it was easier for her to run errands in her athleisure, she said. She repeated over and over that it made her feel productive, like she was working out. “He didn’t want to come over for coffee?”
“His friend is coming from out of town today,” Jacinto replied, looking at his phone screen and smirking. “And Victoria was doing something at The Inn.” He shrugged, then stood up and walked to our mother. “I’m leaving anyway,” he said to her and kissed her cheek, then hooked his arm around her neck and hugged her tightly.
“Jacinto,” she said, slapping his arm but smiling nonetheless.
“See you later.” He waved at everyone and took off, the front door closing loudly behind him.
“Yeah, I’m out too,” Charlie said, leaving his dirty mug in the sink. He kissed our mom, then turned and walked out of the kitchen, his departure a little quieter than our youngest sibling’s. Valentina’s eyes followed his body, trailing his movements to the front door.
“Ready?” I said, looking back at her with a blank expression. “The sooner we go in, the faster we’ll take care of everything.”
“Yeah,” she said, her face back towards the kitchen. “I’m ready for our time off.”
5
FRANCISCO
Bienvenidos a Tres Fuegos.
Three fires indeed.
More like a fucking fire on top of a heaping pile of garbage tucked inside a smelly dumpster.
I gripped the steering wheel, my knuckles turning white as I navigated the last of the winding road leading to the small town in the hills of Córdoba that was now the home of Santiago, my former colleague and good friend. The drive had been long, made even longer by the unpredictable weather of the summer, with its heavy rains and loud thunderstorms and the unease that settled in my stomach every year around this time.
It wasn’t the town’s fault, my foul mood. It was just life. And the freaking looming date.
Tres Fuegos was picturesque, I would give it that. The sun was dipping lower in the sky, casting a glow over thelandscape and giving a golden tinge to the dark green leaves on the trees. The heat was obvious even to the naked eye. There was a permanent clear haze ahead of me, radiating from the hot asphalt of the road.
I parked outside a small, single level home. The views from my parking spot were stunning, peaks and valleys stretching all around me. It was obvious this town was inside the mountain, a part of it. Nestled would be the right word. And the house didn’t look out of place at all, despite its striking white color. It belonged.
Fuck.I got out of the car, my arms shaking from the exhaustion. I was running on fumes by now in between getting everything ready for the year ahead and prepping for my extended leave. I would take a week off for Santiago’s wedding, and then during our month-long adjournment period from the courts, I would stay in Tres Fuegos and house-sit for them. A welcome respite.
With my suitcase in hand, I walked up the steps and rang the doorbell. It was a large home at the end of the cul-de-sac, and the mountain started immediately behind it. It was quiet, save for the sound of a few birds and the wind in the leaves. Victoria opened the door, a bright smile on her face. She was wearing loose jeans and a half-tucked striped shirt, her feet bare. She was different than the woman I remembered back when we moved in the same professional circuits. She was known for being ruthless. Stoic. But she had changed, apparently, and it looked good on her.
“You made it!” she squealed, running down the stepsand giving me a big hug. She took my suitcase from my hand and moved to the side, clearing a path towards the house. I could see Santiago inside, coming to the door to greet me. There was a tea towel on his shoulder, and his hands were dark with charcoal dust.
