AFTER CARMEN, Jamie, and Gaz had gone their various ways and the moms had headed into town for a sightseeing trip, Valeria and Alicia were alone at the ranch.

“It’s a gorgeous day,” Valeria said. “I’ll give you a tour of the property; I mean, if you’d like one. You ever ride a horse before?”

“It’s, uh, been a while. But it’s like riding a bike, right?” said Alicia, fibbing a little. She had ridden—once. She just hoped that some muscle memory of that lone, long ago elementary-school pony ride would kick in.

“Okay, then. I’m going to run up to the house and change. Do you want to change and I’ll meet you back here, in, say, ten?”

“Sure,” Alicia said, going upstairs to the guest room she was sharing with Jamie and Carmen.

She’d been wearing a cornflower blue sundress, a red beaded necklace, and red sandals. A blue bandanna, folded as a headband, completed her country-chic look. But clearly, she couldn’t go horseback riding in a dress. Alicia opened her suitcase and quickly changed into her favorite boot-cut jeans, a camel suede halter and the newly acquired cowboy boots that she had purchased the night before at Allen’s Boot and Tack Shop near the ranch. Glancing in the mirror, she thought, Boy, do I do Texas fabulous well!

Alicia had changed quickly, but Valeria had still beaten her and was already in the kitchen waiting, wearing a pair of dusty jeans, a pink-pearl-buttoned cowboy shirt, and an honest-to-goodness white cowboy hat.

Valeria took in Alicia’s ensemble. “You’re not going to wear that, are you?”

“Why not?” Alicia said, grabbing a red apple from a big bowl on the wooden dining table. “I’m wearing jeans and a top, just like you.”

Valeria took a deep breath, as though it were painful to hear the comparison. “How much did those jeans cost? Two hundred bucks?” she asked.

“Three,” Alicia said, somewhat guiltily. “But they were a birthday present, and they are the only brand that fits me perfectly.”

Valeria threw her hands up in the air. “¡Ay, chica! You don’t want to wear three-hundred-dollar jeans to go horseback riding! One, you’re going to be really uncomfortable, and will probably get jean burn. Two, they are going to get filthy.”

Alicia bristled. She was a practical girl. She ran her own company, for goodness’ sake. What did Valeria take her for? She wasn’t some coddled princess.

“I appreciate the advice, but I’ll be fine,” Alicia said dismissively. “One, these jeans are supercomfy. That’s one of the reasons they were worth the price, and two, if they get dirty, I’ll wash them. No problema!”

“Okay,” Valeria said. “But your top is way too pretty for this ride. It’s suede, and we’re going to cross the shallow part of the river on this trip. The horses like to splash. And it’s a halter—your back and arms are completely exposed to the sun, the bugs, and the brush. Please, I want this to be fun for you. Let me lend you some clothes.”

Alicia stubbornly shook her head. “I’ll just throw my cashmere cardi over the halter. Sorted.”

There was no use arguing once Alicia made up her mind. Valeria had known her just long enough to have noticed that about her. Sighing, she let the matter drop and silently hoped Alicia wasn’t going to regret her decision.

After grabbing her sweater, Alicia cheerfully followed Valeria out of the kitchen. She was excited to be having an authentic Texas experience. Sure, they were there to work. But eating open-pit barbecue in a town called Driftwood, riding on a horse across a river—this spring break was already shaping up to be one of the most memorable ones ever.

Valeria turned and glanced down at Alicia’s feet. “Girl, I swear, I’m not trying to be annoying,” she said sincerely, “but are those the boots we bought last night?”

Alicia nodded. “Cute, right?”

“Last piece of advice, I promise. But it takes a little while to break in a new pair of boots. We keep lots of extras at the stable…” Valeria’s voice trailed off when she saw Alicia’s look. “You really want to wear those, huh?”

Alicia smiled and nodded, looking just like a little girl in a doll shop. “They are so cute. I can’t take them off. They’re like my Texas Cinderella slippers.”

“Well, then, Cindy Ella, let’s get to steppin’,” Valeria said, giving up. “We want to be back and in the house before that noonday sun starts beating down.”

The two girls walked along the rocky path from the guesthouse to the stables. Alicia was impressed with how well Valeria knew all the ranch workers; the night before, she had told them that the ranch employed forty-five people, half of whom lived on the grounds. When she was with the amigas and Gaz, Valeria seemed like a little bit of an awkward, albeit outspoken nerd—the stringy hair, the bad posture, the message T-shirts. But as she walked around the ranch, she seemed totally different.

“¿Hola, Miguel, qué pasa?” Valeria called out to a short guy baling hay. He waved enthusiastically.

“How’s your beautiful little Elisabeta?” Valeria asked a woman grooming a dark brown horse.

As the daughter of Miami’s deputy mayor and one of the city’s most powerful judges, Alicia was used to navigating roomfuls of grown-ups. It was one of the things that made it so easy for her to deal with the parents of her quince clients. Valeria might have been in desperate need of a haircut and some lessons in teenage girl style, but out here on the ranch, she was confident in her own skin—and Alicia admired that.

“The stable houses more than two dozen horses,” Valeria explained as they approached the big structure, “mostly, ranch horses that the staff and family ride. We used to have thoroughbreds. My father had hopes that I would ride competitively. But from the moment I took my first spin on a skateboard I’ve always been more excited about wheels than hooves. Don’t get me wrong, I love horses and riding on the ranch, but it is never going to be my life.”

“I get it,” Alicia said. “I used to think that I would be a lawyer, like my mom was before she became a judge, or even run for office someday. I even had this crazy internship at the mayor’s office last summer. It was fun, but then the quince-planning thing happened and I just knew that was what I wanted to do.” She paused and then said, “We should figure out how to get ’boarding into your party.”

Valeria nodded, looking animated at the idea. “If you want, I’ll take you guys to the skateboard park where me and my friends like to hang,” she said. “Ever been on a board before?”

Alicia shook her head. “I’m not so much the athletic type. Except for dance. I’ve been taking dance classes since I was a kid, and sometimes I think I’d love to be a choreographer. I like to think of planning a quince like choreographing an amazing ballet.”

Valeria’s eyes widened. “You like to dance?”

Alicia shrugged as though it were obvious. “Yeah, who doesn’t? Everybody can dance. Not everybody can ride a horse or a skateboard.”

“Not true,” Valeria said softly. “I should have been honest when I wrote you and told you that I’m not a great dancer. That was an understatement. I dance like a horse. Actually that would be an insult to those fine, graceful creatures. I’m worse than that. I never dance. Not in private. Not in public. I don’t even tap my feet when I hear a song I like. That’s how awful my sense of rhythm is.”

“But you’re going to dance at your own quince. You’ve got to,” Alicia insisted.

Valeria didn’t answer. Instead she led them into the barn’s main aisle, where she then opened a stall door. She turned and looked at Alicia. “I’m a Castillo. We’re a pretty proud breed. My abuelo was one of the first Texas cowboys. He came to Austin from Mexico without a penny when he was fourteen and found independent work as a vaquero, herding and helping to take care of other people’s cattle. He had dreams of someday becoming a ranchero. Little by little, he began to acquire his own property. He’s eighty-four now, and as you can see by everything that surrounds you, he figured out a way to make his dream come true. This is a man who came to Texas with nothing and ended up being the patrón of a thousand-acre ranch. We Castillos are fierce about following the beat of our own drum. It works for us. As far as I’m concerned, I don’t got to do anything but stay true to my Chicana roots and get into a really good college.”

Alicia laughed out loud. Valeria did have a weird sense of style and was offbeat and unassuming. But she was firm in her opinions, she spoke her mind, and she wasn’t to be trifled with. Alicia was liking her more and more.

“Point taken,” she said. “No dancing unless you want dancing. So, how about some riding?”

“Good idea,” Valeria said, leading a white horse with brown spots out of the stall. “This is Maguire. She’s the gentlest horse on the property. You’ll ride her. She’ll take good care of you.”

Valeria clipped the cross-ties onto Maguire’s halter so she couldn’t go anywhere and then went to lead out a second horse out of his stall. He was a caramel-colored gelding with a shining white mane and tail.

“This is my baby, Greige,” Valeria said.

“Oh, he’s beautiful,” Alicia said, running her fingers along the horse’s silky side.

After a quick lesson in grooming and tacking up, it was time to ride. It took a few clumsy tries, but finally Alicia was able to pull herself up into the saddle. Then she sucked in her breath. It was higher up than it looked from the ground, and she feared she might topple over any second.

“Don’t worry, we’ve had five-year-olds ride Maguire,” Valeria said, trying to sound reassuring. “She won’t let anything happen to you.”

Valeria went over Riding 101 with Alicia. “You’re going to use your legs to squeeze and your hands to give her signals,” she said. “You can give her a light nudge with your foot if you want her to go faster. Give the rein a slight tug if you want her to stop. The main thing is to stay loose and relaxed.”

Perched just a little stiffly on Maguire, Alicia followed Valeria past the cottages that housed the ranch staff and into a grove of cypress trees. As good a guide as any host on the Discovery Channel, Valeria named everything they saw.

“That’s Indian paintbrush,” she said, pointing to a dark red flower. “The Chippewa used it to make a shampoo that made their hair beautiful and glossy. They also made a medicine out of it. And those there are Texas bluebonnets.”

“I have a question,” Alicia said when they’d been riding for a while. Ever since arriving in Texas, something had been on her mind.

“Shoot,” Valeria called back as her horse trotted a few feet ahead of Alicia’s.

“Are quinceañeras not a big deal here?” Alicia asked. “’Cause, you—um, and don’t get me wrong—but you sort of left it to the last minute, and in Miami, we usually plan from, like, the womb.”

“Oh, they are,” Valeria said. “This is Texas. Everyone loves a big party, especially one that involves good music, good food, and folks traveling in from all around.”

Alicia, who was still slightly afraid that her horse might go tearing off in the opposite direction, asked shakily, “Then why leave yours for the very last minute?”

“Well, in my experience, the Castillo women are cursed with a quince-zilla gene,” Valeria explained. “I’m trying really hard to avoid it.”

Settling into a light trot, Alicia rode up next to her and said, “It happens to the best of us. I went all quince-zilla once, and it wasn’t even my birthday.”

“Trust me, you haven’t seen a real quince-zilla until you see someone in my family. All of my cousins have turned their fifteenth birthday into some kind of crazy debutante-ball/quinceañera/let-me-show-you-how-much-money-my-family-has extravaganza.

“I want my quince to reflect my pride in my Latina roots, and I want to be honest about who I am,” Valeria went on. “A slightly off-center, slightly goth, animal-loving, independent-thinking, Chicana skateboarder. I want it to be traditional, but organic and loose—like riding a horse. And that’s a tall order.”

Alicia smiled. She loved a challenge. “Well, you called the right people,” she said. “We’ll come up with a quince that suits you perfectly.”