Chapter 3

My plan had been to take that copied-out book of wifely virtues straight to Melvin Sanchez and tattle.

I'd say Cecilia had bullied me into copying it for her all night, and I'd angle for some fresh punishment.

But the moment I placed the booklet in his hands, someone started pounding on the door outside.

Cecilia seemed to know exactly who it was. She hurried over to open it.

The door hadn't even swung all the way open before a slap landed square across her face.

"You little tramp, mooching food and shelter in my son's home, and you've got the nerve to change the lock without telling me?"

A red handprint bloomed across Cecilia's cheek.

She looked like she'd long grown used to it, lowering her eyes and explaining meekly, "I didn't change the lock."

Only then did Melvin come strolling down the stairs, his tone flat, as if the whole thing had nothing to do with him.

"Mom, I changed the lock a couple of days ago. A keypad's more convenient."

Brenda Sanchez wasn't listening. She shoved Cecilia to the floor and let loose.

"Even if my son changed it, you should have cleared it with me first!"

"My son has thrown away a fortune on that dying father of yours, and you can't even manage a little thing like this?!"

I stood in the corner, and my fists went hard just listening to it.

Forget the old woman. Cecilia didn't even know her own front-door code.

When she came back yesterday, I was the one who opened the door for her!

And more than that, it had been Melvin who'd chased her relentlessly in the first place, promising that if she stayed by his side, he'd hold this whole family up for her.

And now? Her father was practically at death's door, and he dragged his feet over even the surgery money.

When Cecilia tried to go out and earn her own money delivering food, he wouldn't allow it, insisting it would make him lose face.

Hilarious. A big-shot tycoon like him, and he wouldn't part with a cent.

This time, for once, Melvin acted like a decent person and stepped in to hold Brenda back, coaxing her.

"Mom, calm down. Your sixtieth birthday's coming up in a few days. I'll have her handle the whole thing herself to make it up to you."

But Cecilia shook her head, her voice very soft.

"My father's having his surgery in a couple of days. He needs a guardian there beside him..."

Melvin frowned and looked at her with an expression that said she really didn't know how to behave.

Then he laid into her, not caring for reason or fact.

"My mom only turns sixty once. Can't the surgery be moved a day? Don't be so pigheaded."

Cecilia clenched her fingers and still refused.

"It took forever to get on the lead surgeon's schedule... and my father's illness really can't be put off any longer."

Melvin was losing patience now, demanding with open displeasure,

"So which matters more? Winning over your future mother-in-law so you can marry me, or that surgery of your father's?"

"Don't you have a younger brother? Send him."

At the mention of her brother.

A flash of pain crossed Cecilia's eyes. Her lips parted, and in the end she said nothing.

Brenda shot me a vicious glare as she passed, spitting out, "Another little seductress."

Then she swept into the front parlor, head held high.

Certain she wouldn't bring herself to leave him, not for the money's sake, Melvin patted her head, his tone like he was training a dog.

"The birthday banquet is yours to arrange."

"My mom never thought much of you to begin with. But if you make her happy at her sixtieth, I'll talk her into it. I'll get her to agree to marry you in as the next Mrs. Sanchez."

I'd assumed Cecilia would try to cover both ends, running back and forth between the two.

So I meant to step in and take the birthday banquet off her hands myself.

Of course, I had a selfish motive too.

It was the perfect chance to rig something at the banquet, get Melvin to hand her another little punishment, and let me turn a tidy profit.

But days passed, and Cecilia didn't touch the banquet at all. Instead she spent every single day at the hospital, sitting there in a daze.

I couldn't hold back any longer, and asked her outright when she planned to start getting ready.

She didn't answer the question. She just looked at me, in earnest.

"Cicely Cooley, whatever it is you're doing, and whether or not you believe me."

"In all these years, the only one who's ever been this good to me seems to be you."

Then she went on to say a whole string of strange, grateful things to me.

The tone of it was like a goodbye.

I had a bad feeling, terrified my walking cash cow was about to break things off with Melvin.

That night I made up an excuse about having lost something, got the code out of Melvin, and went back to the Sanchez house.

I circled around to her room to see whether she was packing her bags to run.

But nothing in the room was missing. There was only one thing extra on the desk: a letter.

On the envelope were just two words. Suicide note.