Page 18 of A Dish Best Served Hot

They passed through the doorway that led to Kane Distillery and Saint could no longer hear their conversation.

“That girl is a trip,” Leo said.

“She’s smart,” Saint countered.

“She is,” Papi assured him. “And she’s too curious to hate school for long.”

“Y ahora esa bruja se fue,” Mami added. “Maybe she’ll like her new teacher more and will talk to her.”

“God, I hope so,” Saint sighed. There was one thing for sure. He was going to have to go make sure this new teacher knew from the get-go that neither he nor his daughter were going to be pushed around anymore. “But I was actually talking about Kamilah.” He gave his parents a serious look. “You two need to stop ganging up on her. She’s doing a great job and she doesn’t need you both in here nitpicking everything she does.”

“We aren’t picking on her!” Mami said, immediately offended. “We are trying to give her advice so she doesn’t get overwhelmed like we did.”

Papi nodded. “There were two of us and it was still a lot. Running a restaurant is like trying to run an obstacle course blindfolded.”

Leo chimed in from behind the bar. “I don’t think she finds any of this overwhelming. The other day I walked in and she was in back prepping while also reading one of Liam’s business books. You should’ve seen her. She was giving her watch voice memos and everything. She thrives on this and the tips I make every shift prove it.” He moved off to help a patron.

“She’s doing well now,” Papi agreed. “Because she’s still riding the wave from the media exposure she got from the contest, but people are fickle. They’ll forget about it soon and she’ll have to figure out another way to bring them in.”

“And she will,” Saint said. “If there is anything Kamilah never lacks, it’s ideas and determination.”

“That’s true,” Papi said.

“Look,” Leo added, coming back. “You two wanted out of the restaurant running business, so be out of it. Enjoy your retirement and let Kamilah do what she’s going to do. This place isn’t your responsibility anymore. Go on vacation or something. Be free, my little birdies.” Then he moved off again to go help more patrons.

Their parents were quiet for a moment, absorbing everything they’d just heard.

Mami spoke first. “Tienen razón, Santos. It’s clear she doesn’t want us here looking over her shoulder all the time and it doesn’t really seem like she needs it. She has Liam to help her now and the boys.”

Papi sighed. “I know, mi amor. It’s just hard.”

Finally, Saint understood. It wasn’t that their parents didn’t believe in Kamilah, it was that they were struggling with letting go of their life’s work even though they didn’t want it anymore. They didn’t know what to do now.

Saint would figure out something to give his parents purpose and set them on a new path that included a more positive and healthy relationship with his little sister. He’d do it because Saint had been taking charge of his family and watching over them since he was a kid. He wasn’t going to stop now.

5

Lola took another look around the room. The new positions of the tables gave clearer pathways to aid with transitions, she’d taken down some of the posters and charts to make the procedural graphics stand out more, and there was a brand-new calming area that had cost her a hundred dollars at Target—along with a chunk of change she’d spent on other things she wanted for the classroom. She hoped she’d made enough changes to make it clear that there was a fresh start happening, but not enough to cause the kids to spiral.

She’d gone back to the building after the school day had let out and spent hours in what was now her classroom. She’d gone through Ms. Kirkland’s previous lesson plans, dug into the curriculum, and tried to envision what a typical day was like in that room. Thankfully the paraprofessional assigned to the class worked the after school program and was available to answer questions about the usual routine.

Afterward she’d sent frantic texts to her mother in San Diego, begging her to dig through all of her teaching stuff to find her old preschool plans from when she was student teaching. Her mom had come through and had sent Lola at least two hundred pictures of old lesson plans, instructional theory, activities, etc. Then Lola had stayed up to the wee hours of the morning making a plan for the rest of the week, which basically went like this: set up expectations, get to know students, and survive—in no specific order.

She was exhausted and the day hadn’t even started yet.

The door opened and Mrs. Fonseca walked in with Dolores.

Dolores paused and took a look around the room, quickly cataloging the changes and giving Lola a nod before pointing them out to Mrs. Fonseca.

“I knew you could do this,” Mrs. Fonseca said with a nod of her own.

Lola almost laughed. “I haven’t even done anything yet.”

Mrs. Fonseca shook her head. “You could’ve just showed up and tried to fit yourself into Ms. Kirkland’s place. It’s clear that you have a plan to make this room yours.” She smiled. “Besides, you forget that I know you. You never back down even when something seems impossible. If anything, you dig in.”

“I have yet to figure out if that’s a good thing or not,” Lola confessed.

“We need people like you, who won’t stop until the job is done.”

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