Bijol spice. “It’s supposed to turn yellow, then?” she asks.
“Arroz con pollo must be this color. Like saffron. And this spice adds flavor, too.” I give the mixture a final stir. “Watch for a rapid boil. It will bubble up, but when it gets fast, that’s how you know it’s time to lower the heat to simmer and put on that cover. I need to check our rice pudding, so you’re in charge.”
Flora gives me a thumbs-up.
With trays of potato meatballs and ham croquettes ready for frying, Cate hauls over four Cokes. I shoot her a knowing smile when she cuts a lime and hooks a wedge onto the rim of each glass.
“Lime with Coke?” Jules questions.
“A Miami regular. Try it,” Cate says.
“Oh, that’s quite good. Zingy.” Jules moves her shoulders to her own rhythm, sipping again. “I’m feeling so South Florida.”
“Well, if you really want to feel Miami, you need to hear it,” I tell her. “Let’s ditch the eighties and get our salsa jams on.”
“So much dancing, so many nights,” Cate says. “The clubs with Mami and our friends.”
I sync my phone to my portable speakers and fire up the music of my culture. With our supper covered and ready for a long simmer, Flora steps away from the stove with her drink. Her neck and face are flushed from the flaming pans. But she smiles.
“This music!” Jules says, eyes bright with wonder. “The polyphony and drum work and rhythm are fantastic. It sounds like a tropical resort and a colorful street lined with merchants and…”
“What?”
“I know it’s weird, but it sounds like this food smells. Spiced and sexy.”
I elbow the inn co-owner, less Cate Wallace from Winchester than I’ve seen her in weeks. “Catalina, we need to show them the dance.”
“Yes please,” Jules says, grabbing Flora by the elbow. “Teach us.”
We do, and we look like a couple of fools but manage to show them salsa dance basics. “That’s it, chicas,” I call out. “Pause on beats four and eight. Drag the foot, don’t place it.” We demo where to put hip and shoulder. How to sharpen each movement, locking it up. Flora holds her own, but Jules takes her salsa instruction to another level. Why am I surprised?
Jules can’t help but dive her gorgeous voice right into the songs. With a trained ear, she picks up the Spanish phrases and creates her own harmonies with the singers. She’s beautiful, my friend.
My eyes flick to the doorway. The boys have materialized, all three of them snapping shots or videoing and way too pleased with themselves. How long have they been standing there?
“No clue what the hell is going on,” Remy says. “But one day when Jules is famous, this video will show up online and it will be amazing.”
Jules is already beaming over to him, making a play for his phone.
Gordon’s face carries a dose of horrified shock. Trouble processing a new side of his mother and her formidable hip sway? “I have no words.”
“For once.” Cate fluffs his hair. “I’m going up now. Bring your dad and me our portions when Lila serves it?”
“Yeah, Mum.”
Cate traps my stare at the hallway push door. She presses fingers to her lips then her heart before she leaves.
I find Orion peeking at the arroz con pollo and eyeing the finger foods. When I approach he draws me in for a brief hug. After hours of frantic fun, my breathing lulls.
“Now I’m all guilt. You worked so hard and all we brought were a couple of bottles of plonk and some ale.” He points to Remy, who’s setting red wine and beer bottles on the counter.
“There must be a few last-minute tasks we can do to pitch in?”
“More than a few.” I playfully scratch the sleeve of his faded band tee. “And no guilt allowed. This is what I do. What I love to do.”
He smiles then rubs a gentle finger across my face. “You’ve flour on your nose.”
“I probably have a lot more all over the rest of me.” I glance down at the skinny jeans and black tank under my apron. “I must look like a wreck.”
“Nah.” He lifts my chin with his thumb, a lazy smile across his face. “You’re always lovely.”
Oh. He’s never said that before. Many times, I’ve felt it hiding behind his gaze. Only the words are new and my heart is no longer lulling. We’re back to frantic. “Pour me some of that plonk you brought?”
The evening starts with his first pour of