He knew not to believe me, but let it go for now. There’d been enough drama for one night. Or so I thought.
Joy lingered near the table, wringing her hands. “Um, Ate Lila? Could you give me a ride home? I was supposed to ride with Ate Bernie, but . . .”
I’d completely forgotten she was there. She was so good at making herself small and fading into the background. The whole thing must’ve been so awkward for her, poor girl. Torn between her mentor and her employer. “Of course, Joy. Let’s get you home before your parents start to worry.”
Joy smiled sadly. “That won’t be a problem.”
My heart twinged at those words, a feeling that was becoming more familiar the more time I spent around Joy and the other pageant girls. I decided to let Longganisa ride with us, both to cheer us up and to make up for having her shut in my room all night. We completed the short drive in silence, Joy stroking Longganisa’s short fur and hugging the little chonk against herself.
Before she got out of the car, Joy turned to face me, eyes glistening with tears. “It’s my fault Ate Bernie is in trouble. I never should’ve said anything.”
I turned off the car and faced her. “How is it your fault? You did nothing wrong.”
“I told her what Rob was saying to me. About how uncomfortable he made me. If I hadn’t, she wouldn’t have confronted him and this whole mess might never have happened.”
I pulled Joy into a swift hug, crushing Longganisa between us, who was licking away Joy’s tears. “You did nothing wrong, do you hear me? Rob was the one at fault in that situation. Never ever blame yourself for how someone mistreats you. Especially when it’s an adult in a position of power. He knew what he was doing. And we know Ate Bernie would never kill anyone, so let’s just trust Detective Park to do his job.”
Joy pulled away and the look in her eyes broke my heart. “You can’t give up on her, Ate Lila. Please. Please help her.”
I sighed. For better or worse, Bernadette was family. And the Macapagals didn’t give up on family, even when they were being jerks. “I’ll do what I can, Joy. I promise.”
But Ninang June and Bernadette owed me and my mother an apology. And once I solved this case, they’d better believe I’d come collecting.
Chapter Twelve
I swung by the Brew-ha Cafe early the next day—I not only needed a huge amount of caffeine to get through everything, I’d promised Adeena and Elena I’d stop by to do my baking for the day before my pageant duties. Considering how precarious our relationship had been lately, I didn’t want to do anything that made it seem like I was shirking responsibility to the cafe. Though I would’ve loved to have slept in a bit after the night I’d had.
I arrived at the shop before them and got straight to work mixing up the muffin batter, scooping out the cookie dough, and decided to make up a couple batches of salabat-spiced banana bread while I was at it. I hadn’t gone grocery shopping yet, so this was the best I could do with the ingredients we had available. Should be plenty to keep our small clientele happy though.
“Lila, is that you back there?” Adeena called from the cafe. The chugging of the espresso machine kicked in, and I could hear her rattling around out front as she got her various flavor syrups all lined up.
I pulled the last batch of banana bread from the oven and set it on the cooling rack before heading out to greet her. She was prepping a pot of herbal tea for Elena and her mom, who were both seated at the counter. A crateful of zucchini was on the floor next to them.
“Good morning, Tía! How are you? It’s been a while.” I went over to hug the newest addition to my growing group of aunties, who was not only the woman behind Shady Palms’s premier Mexican restaurant, El Gato Negro, but also kindly provided us with all the plants and herbs we wanted for free.
“I’m doing great, nena. Business is good, my plants are thriving, and I’m loving the energy in your new space.” Mrs. Torres poured a cup of mint tea, passed it to her daughter, and then poured another for herself. “Would you care for some tea? You look like you could do with a pick-me-up.”
“No thanks. I have a long day ahead of me, so I need something stronger.” Without a word, Adeena plunked a large Brew-ha #1 in front of me, the drink she created especially for me in one of the reusable branded cups we ordered for the shop. I took a long, slow sip before thanking her. “You know just what I need. By the way, all the baking for the day is done and cooling on the racks. If we run out, there’s more cookie dough in the fridge. What’s with all the zucchini though?”
“We had more than we needed for the restaurant, so I thought you might be able to use it in a recipe. Zucchini bread is a thing, right?” Elena said, sipping at her tea.
As I pondered a Filipino twist on zucchini bread, Adeena disappeared into the back and returned with slices of banana bread, which she set in front of us. She poured herself a cup of coffee and leaned against the counter to enjoy her breakfast. “So what happened last night? Find out anything interesting?”
I recounted the events of the previous night, taking some comfort in the fact that she’d asked about the case. Maybe she wasn’t as mad at me as I’d thought. I left out what Ninang June said about my mom as well as the comments Bernadette made about my love life.
Adeena knew me well enough to sense when I wasn’t giving her the full story. “And that’s it? That’s all that happened last night?”
I nodded, taking another sip of my coffee so I wouldn’t have to meet her gaze.
“So that’s how it’s going to be? I know something’s bugging you. How many times do I have to tell you this? Ask for help when you need it. Tell people how you feel,” Adeena said, clapping to emphasize each word in that last statement.
“Mami, why don’t we go look at the altar I’m working on? It feels like something’s missing, maybe you can help me out.” Elena tugged her mother away from me and Adeena to give us some privacy.
I had nothing left to say though, so I followed them to the back space Elena had slowly been transforming. A richly patterned cloth covered a small table littered with dried herbs, a vase of fresh flowers, an old pair of golden rings, and several candles positioned in front of framed photos. I recognized Elena’s father, from previous pictures she’d shown me, and Adeena’s maternal grandparents. Mrs. Torres lit the candle in front of her husband’s photo, her lips moving in a silent prayer or conversation.
When she was finished, she turned to me. “This is a wonderful space, but there doesn’t seem to be anything of yours here, Lila. Don’t you want to contribute something?”