Lupita shook her head. “No. If they are sorry, they are forgiven, taken back into the family after a time.” She squinted as if finding the right words. “Mexican fathers and mothers are not so... made of stone, you understand?”
I understood better than she could imagine. If a woman could run away and then come back—like Max’s mother had, pregnant and unmarried—couldn’t Max be forgiven, too?
“Lupita.” I laid my hand on her arm. I knew how much a sister was loved, what it would mean to lose one. “Roman told me about Maria Carmen. I’m sorry.”
Lupita turned the sash over, picking at the knots and tangles on the hidden side. “Yes. I miss her very much.” She tipped her head to where Señora sat ignoring us. “As she does. Max and Maria were like her own children. And she lost them both. This—” shemotioned to me—“it is bringing up the old pain. You must try to forgive her for her ways.”
I could forgive the old crow when Lupita put it like that.
Too soon, Lupita had to go to the cannery. “Please,” she said as she went out the door, “don’t let Oscar see it, the dress.” Her cheeks colored. “I want to surprise him.”
I told her I’d keep it hidden, but secretly I wished her luck with Oscar. She was going to need it.
Señora went outside to wash the mounds of dirty linen. I worked on Lupita’s dress and watched the shadows move across the worn linoleum floor. Señora came in just once, to cook her flattened bread and set it in front of me. I guess it didn’t matter how unwelcome the guest; her conscience wouldn’t let me go hungry. This time I ate everything and wished for more.
The sun shone high in the sky and still no Max. I didn’t blame him. Not really. I bit down on a thread to snap it from the knot. Max had done so much for me—saved me, really. Maybe it was time for me to save him. I could give him the chance to make peace with his family, perhaps even to be forgiven, like Lupita had said. All I had to do was get him here. I started to figure a plan. If Sanchia and Oscar had a chance to talk to him, to smooth things over...
Maybe—I guess I thought back then—maybe if Max could make things right with his family, someday so could I.
OSCAR
At half past eleven, Oscar was in the back row of the Teatro Hidalgo, waiting for Max while Laurel and Hardy bumbled their way through the nickel matinee. Max didn’t show until six minutes after twelve. By then, Hardy was fuming and so was Oscar. “Wherehave you been?” he hissed at Max. “I’ve been looking for you for two days.”
Max sat down beside him and opened his cigarette case. “I didn’t get arrested. Thanks for asking.”
Of course not. They wouldn’t arrest Max Clark. “You need to take her. Now.”
Max lit a cigarette and put it to his lips. “Listen, Oscar. They’ve been following me since the Montmartre. Put an officer on my tail and staked out my place last night—”
“The police were at the house this morning.” Oscar didn’t care what Max was facing. “My house, Max. It was only luck they didn’t find her.”
“Are you listening to me?” Max whispered, “I’m telling you, they’re following me. If she’s with me, they’ll nab her by this afternoon.”
“That’s your problem.”
“And yours. You don’t think they’ll put it together? You just said they were at your place.”
Oscar slumped down in the chair. “Mamá and the boys... they’ll end up on the busses. I’ll go to prison.”
“I’m not going to let that happen.” Max lit another cigarette off his own and passed it to Oscar. They smoked silently while Laurel got Hardy into another fine mess. “I went to the funeral yesterday,” Max said, as if Oscar hadn’t just told him that his family was in danger. “Police were there too. Victoria put on a better act than she ever has for Cosmo. You’d have thought she really loved him. Then a detective buttonholed me. Asked me a lot of questions.”
That got Oscar’s attention. “Guy with a mustache?”
“That’s the guy.”
So Brody probably knew his connection to Max. If he didn’t, he would soon. Would he still want Oscar to work for him or would hewant his money back? Part of Oscar wished he could just give him the money and wash his hands of this whole mess. But it was too late for that since the money was spent and Oscar had given his word.
Max leaned forward, his voice lower. “Listen, Oscar. I know how you feel about me, but Mina didn’t do this. We gotta keep her hidden while we figure this out—for both your sakes.”
Oscar took a breath of the cigarette and weighed his options. Max was smart and he knew people. Oscar didn’t trust him—he never would again—but he could use him maybe to get what Brody needed. “You find out anything?”
“After they questioned me at the Montmartre yesterday, I made the rounds. The Ambassador, Beverly Hills Hotel, the Derby.”
Oscar couldn’t help throwing out a hook. “I hope you had a great time.”
Max didn’t bite. “Everybody was talking about Lester—but nobody knew much. Except that he was getting paid more than he was worth. A lot more.”
Oscar had heard that from Brody, but he still didn’t know how it fit.
