Chapter 27

Although the Madreselva was closed tonight, the lights were on. Malena followed Amanda inside and stopped at the sight of Sebastian sitting by the bar with Joaquin. Malena’s hands dampened inside her gloves. Sebastian looked more handsome than ever in that black leather jacket.

Amanda clutched Malena’s arm. “You can do this.”

Joaquin greeted them. Malena clumsily removed her gloves and shook hands with him. But neither she nor Sebastian attempted to shake hands. She couldn’t even look at him. She’d never imagined that one day she would be dancing with Claudia’s fiancé. If Claudia ever found out, she would bring the Holy Inquisition down on her!

“Shall we start?” Amanda circled the bar and removed a record from its sleeve. “We’re dancing to Gardel tonight, even if people are saying that it’s bad luck. Lili, take off that sweater.”

Malena removed her pink sweater, aware of Sebastian’s eyes on her. He removed his jacket and stayed in a white long-sleeved shirt. Without touching, they edged toward the dance floor. Amanda rushed behind them, giving them instructions on the sequence of steps she envisioned, while Joaquin had suggestions of his own.

Like a mannequin, Malena stood still while Amanda placed her in front of Sebastian, pulling her shoulders back to achieve the perfect pose and telling her how to rest her hand on Sebastian’s shoulder. Under her palm, his shoulder felt warm.

“No small talk,” Amanda said as a last recommendation. “Just feeling.” And then she added, as an afterthought, “That is the secret to tango dancing.”

Sebastian seized Malena’s hand and held her tight. She took in the scent of his cologne, avoiding his eyes.

Joaquin started “El día que me quieras.” Sebastian took a step forward, leading her backwards and then sideways across the floor. They transitioned into pivots, sweeps, and ochos. He danced surprisingly well, almost effortlessly. Not with the same skill, experience, and flair that Leonardo did, but he definitely knew the basic tango steps.

For a moment, Malena got lost in the song lyrics. It seemed as though Carlos Gardel was singing to them. She was conscious of Sebastian’s fingers on her lower back and his thigh brushing against hers. She liked his closeness, the way her body fit into his. When his hand traveled down her spine, it sent chills throughout her body. She lifted her chin. There was a tiny drop of perspiration above his brow, a nearly imperceptible mole by his nose. Was he holding his breath? Their eyes connected for a split second, and then he stared at her mouth. She lost her footing and stopped. Her face burned. She needed space, air. She took a step back, letting go of his touch.

“What’s the matter?” Amanda asked.

Malena fanned her cheeks with her hand. “Nothing. I’m just hot, that’s all.”

“Well, you’d better not stop like that during the presentation.”

Malena glanced at Sebastian’s chest moving up and down, his eyes set on her.

“I won’t.”

Joaquin started the song again.

Malena could barely concentrate on whatever Claudia was saying. Her mind kept going back to the moment when Sebastian held her in his arms. How ironic that she had to help his bride pick a dress for the wedding now.

“What do you think of this one?” Claudia said.

Malena turned to one of the Burda magazines lying open on the coffee table. Claudia pointed at a satin gown with a banded waist and a scooped neck.

“It’s very pretty,” Malena said. Watching Claudia choose her dress certainly seemed like a punishment for dancing with Sebastian.

Ana brought another pile of magazines and sat down across from the girls, next to Mamá Blanca. She eyed the dress her daughter had selected.

“I don’t know, hija. How about something simpler? Simplicity is more elegant.”

“Oh, no. I don’t want something simple. You only get married once, and I want my dress to be the most stylish in town.” Claudia’s words tumbled over one another in her excitement. “My future mother-in-law is a fashion connoisseur.”

“But hija,” Ana said, “modesty is a virtue and vanity is a form of pride—”

“Which is a deadly sin,” Claudia recited in a monotone, her cheeks turning slightly pink.

“Claudia …”

“Whatever you say, Madre.”

Mamá Blanca spoke without removing her gaze from her crocheting. “Claudia should be able to decide what she wants, Ana. After all, Sebastian comes from one of the most established families in San Isidro.” She lowered her voice, turning to Malena. “Although they’re not doing so well now.”

“Mamá …” Ana said.

“What? Lili is like family now.” She renewed her needlework. “Tell her, Claudita.”

Claudia cleared her throat. “Well, Sebastian’s father got into some risky ventures that lost a lot of money.”

“And Ofelia spent the rest,” Mamá Blanca added.

“So now my poor Sebastian has to work like a dog to support them.”

Malena felt a stab at the word “my.”

“We have to find a dress for you too, Lili.” Ana handed Malena a magazine. “See if there’s anything here that you like and we’ll have our seamstress make it for you.”

Malena thanked Ana, but doubted she would be here when this wedding took place.

Mamá Blanca pushed herself up. “Lili, would you help me to my room? I’d like to rest for a moment.”

“Of course.”

Malena helped her grandmother upstairs and down the hall.

“If Abigail were alive, she would have sewn this dress for Claudia.” Mamá Blanca entered her room and pointed at the small sewing machine in the corner of the room. “That was hers. The last time she used it was to sew Claudia’s first communion dress. Abigail was already sick, but she worked very hard until she finished it. She adored her niece.”

Malena strolled toward the sewing machine. Her fingers rubbed the intricate wooden carvings along the cherrywood surface. Four tiny drawers were aligned on its right side. She looked over her shoulder. Mamá Blanca was covering her legs with a wool blanket. If only she could look inside those drawers.

Malena picked up a book from Mamá Blanca’s night table. Los Sangurimas. Her grandmother Eva would’ve never approved of such a scandalous novel. “José de la Cuadra is my favorite author,” Malena said. “Would you like me to read it to you?”

“That would be lovely. I can barely see that small print.”

Malena read in the most tedious tone she could muster. Mamá Blanca’s eyelids drooped sporadically at first, but stayed shut after a while. Before long, Mamá Blanca was asleep.

Malena set the book on the night table and stood up. She tiptoed toward Abigail’s sewing machine and opened the top drawer. It was filled with rolls of thread of every imaginable color. The second drawer was filled with zippers. The third one held needles and pins. The last drawer was full of buttons. Malena touched them with her fingers. A diary, a photograph in the study, and this sewing machine were everything that was left of Mamá Blanca’s daughter. Underneath the buttons, she felt a glossy texture—a photograph? A loud snore came from Mamá Blanca’s direction. Malena started, but her grandmother’s eyes were still shut.

Malena moved the buttons out of the way and spotted a face—a man’s face. She picked up the picture, rubbing her index finger over the young man’s handsome face. She could tell he had light hair and light eyes. She turned it over and read a name on the back: Victor, 1940.