They called it a joke, her siblings rolled their eyes when their father left her a crumbling gas station instead of cash. Take the 25K and walk away, they mocked, but the moment she found the brass key and unlocked the underground door, they realized she hadn’t inherited junk, she’d inherited a 200 million secret that could destroy them. The fluorescent lights of Mel’s diner flickered overhead as Carmen Rodriguez balanced three plates of scrambled eggs and hash browns along her forearm.
Her uniform was spattered with small stains from a double shift that had begun at 5am. Dark circles shadowed her eyes, but she maintained a warm smile for her customers. Order up for table seven, she called, sliding the plates in front of a family of tourists.
Can I get you folks anything else? The father glanced up from his phone. We’re good, he said. Carmen nodded and moved to her next table checking her watch.
Two more hours until her shift ended, and then she had to pick up the twins from school. Mia and Luna were 12 now, bright girls with their father’s dark eyes and her own stubborn determination. The thought of them gave her strength, when her feet ached and her back screamed from hours of carrying heavy trays.
As she refilled coffee cups, her phone vibrated in her pocket. Normally, Carmen wouldn’t check it during her shift, but the twins’ school appeared on the screen. With a quick apology to her table, she stepped away to answer.
Ms. Rodriguez? This is Principal Gaines. I’m calling about Luna. Carmen’s heart sank.
Is she alright? She’s fine physically, but there was an incident with another student. Apparently, there were some comments made about your living situation. Luna responded rather forcefully.
Carmen closed her eyes. She hit someone? No, but her verbal response was quite colorful. We need you to come in for a meeting.
I’m working a double shift today. Could we? Ms. Rodriguez, this is the third incident this month. Carmen glanced at her manager, who was already giving her a disapproving look.
I’ll be there in 30 minutes. She said, knowing this would cost her dearly, both in lost wages and her boss’s goodwill. After a tense conversation with her manager, Carmen hurried to her car, a 15-year-old sedan with peeling paint and a passenger door that sometimes refused to open.
As she drove to the school, her phone rang again. The screen displayed Marcus, her brother’s name. She hesitated before answering.
Conversations with her brother rarely brought good news. Hello? She said, putting him on speaker. Carmen, where are you? I’ve been trying to reach you all morning.
Marcus’s voice was sharp and patient. I’m working, Marcus. Some of us have jobs that don’t come with assistance to answer our phones.
He ignored the barb, dad’s attorney called. They’ve scheduled the will reading for tomorrow at 2 p.m. Carmen’s grip tightened on the steering wheel. It had been six weeks since her father’s heart attack, six weeks of grief that she’d had to push aside to keep food on the table and a roof over her daughter’s heads.
Roberto Rodriguez had been her anchor, the one person in her family who never made her feel less than. Now he was gone, and the wound still felt fresh. I have a shift tomorrow, she said.
Cancel it, Marcus replied. This is important, Carmen. The whole family will be there.
By the whole family, Carmen knew he meant himself, their sister Victoria, and their respective spouses, the successful branches of the Rodriguez family tree, not her ex-husband Derek, who had left her for his secretary three years ago, and now lived in a lakeside condo while she struggled to make rent on a two-bedroom apartment. I’ll try, she said finally. But I can’t promise anything.
Marcus sighed, the sound crackling through the car’s speakers. This is exactly why dad worried about you. You never prioritize the right things.
Before Carmen could respond, he continued. Victoria and I have been handling all the funeral arrangements, the estate paperwork, everything, while you’ve been, what, serving pancakes? The least you could do is show up for the reading. Carmen pulled into the school parking lot, her hands shaking with a mixture of anger and hurt.
I’ll be there, she said. I have to go. She ended the call before Marcus could say anything else, taking a moment to compose herself before heading into the school.
This was her reality now, racing between work and her daughter’s needs, enduring her sibling’s condescension and grieving alone for the father who had been her only ally. The meeting with Principal Gaines went as expected. Luna sat stone-faced in the corner while the principal expressed concerns about her adjustment difficulties.
The other student, a girl named Brittany whose mother headed the PTA, had reportedly commented that Luna’s clothes were probably from a dumpster. Luna responded by saying some very inappropriate things about Brittany’s character and parentage. The principal explained, his expression stern.
Carmen looked at her daughter, whose chin was raised defiantly despite the tears shimmering in her eyes. I understand that Luna’s response wasn’t appropriate, Carmen said carefully, but it sounds like Brittany was bullying her about our financial situation. Principal Gaines cleared his throat.
We’re speaking with Brittany’s parents as well, of course. But given Luna’s pattern of outbursts, we’re recommending counseling. Counseling they couldn’t afford, another expense to somehow squeeze from her already stretched budget.
We’ll work on it at home, Carmen promised, placing a hand on Luna’s shoulder. As they walked to the car, Luna finally spoke. I’m not sorry, she said, her voice small but determined.
She says that stuff all the time, Carmen unlocked the car. I know it’s hard, but we can’t let people like that see they’ve gotten to us. Dad would have let me fight back, Luna muttered, climbing into the back seat.
He said sometimes you have to stand up for yourself. Carmen felt a fresh wave of grief wash over her. Derek had been largely absent since the divorce, appearing for occasional weekends and school events when it suited him.
His child support payments were sporadic at best, despite his well-paying job. Yet somehow, in the twins’ eyes, he remained the fun parent, the one who understood them. Your father says a lot of things, Carmen replied, keeping her voice neutral.
But he’s not the one dealing with phone calls from the school. Luna fell silent, staring out the window as they drove back to their apartment. Mia would be waiting for them, probably hungry and worried about her sister.
Carmen would have just enough time to make them a quick dinner before heading back for the evening shift she’d abandoned. More hours lost, more income they couldn’t afford to miss. As they turned onto their street, Carmen spotted a sleek black SUV parked in front of their building.
Her sister Victoria stood beside it, impeccably dressed in a designer suit, sunglasses perched on her perfectly highlighted hair despite the cloudy day. What’s she doing here? Luna asked. Carmen parked and braced herself.
Victoria rarely visited their apartment, and when she did, it was never without purpose. Tia Victoria Luna called as they approached, her tone suddenly bright. Carmen recognized the act.
Luna knew that appearing happy and well-adjusted would irritate Victoria, who seemed to expect them to be visibly suffering at all times. Victoria removed her sunglasses, revealing expertly applied makeup that concealed any evidence that she too had lost her father six weeks ago. Luna, darling, she said, offering air kisses.
How are you bearing up? I’m good, Luna replied cheerfully. Mom’s teaching me how to make dad’s special empanadas. Victoria’s gaze flicked to Carmen, a flash of something, annoyance.
Surprise? Crossing her features. How? Therapeutic, she said. Carmen, could we speak privately? Inside the cramped apartment, Mia was at the small kitchen table, textbook spread around her.
Unlike her sister, Mia channeled her feelings into academics, maintaining perfect grades despite everything. She looked up as they entered, her expression brightening briefly at the side of her aunt before returning to its usual careful neutrality. Tia, she said politely, standing to offer a hug that Victoria returned stiffly.
Girls, why don’t you go to your room while I talk to your aunt? Carmen suggested setting down her purse. Once the twins had disappeared behind their bedroom door, Victoria surveyed the apartment with barely concealed disdain. Her eyes lingered on the sagging couch, the mismatched dishes drying by the sink, the water stain on the ceiling that the landlord had promised to fix months ago.
Marcus said you were being difficult about tomorrow, she said Carmen sighed. Too tired for pretense. I wasn’t being difficult.
I was being realistic. I have to work. It’s dad’s will reading Carmen.
Surely even you can arrange coverage for one afternoon. Even you, the words hung in the air heavy with implication. Even you, the family disappointment.
Even you, the one who couldn’t keep her marriage together. Even you, the college dropout working as a waitress at 38. I already told Marcus I’ll be there, Carmen said keeping her voice level.
Is that all you came to say? Victoria moved to the small window looking out at the view of the parking lot. No, actually, I wanted to give you a heads up. Marcus and I have been going through dad’s finances.
Something in her tone made Carmen tense. And? And it’s worse than we thought. The gas station has been losing money for years.
There are back taxes, outstanding loans. Victoria turned, her expression a practice blend of concern and resignation. Dad wasn’t the best businessman we all know that.
Carmen felt a familiar defensiveness rise within her. He managed to support a family of five and put you and Marcus through college on that gas station’s income. That was 20 years ago before the chain stations moved in.
The last few years have been difficult. Marcus and I have been helping him make ends meet. This was news to Carmen.
He never mentioned that to me. Victoria’s smile was thin. He wouldn’t, would he? Not to you.
He always wanted to be your hero. The words stung because they contained a grain of truth. Roberto had always protected Carmen, from childhood bullies to her siblings criticisms, to her ex-husband’s cruelty.
Even when she’d made mistakes, dropping out of college to marry Derek, putting her own ambitions on hold to support his career. Why are you telling me this now? Carmen asked. Because the estate is complicated.
There are debts to settle, the property to deal with. Marcus and I think it’s best if we handle everything. You have enough on your plate with… She gestured vaguely at the apartment.
All this. I want to help, Carmen insisted. Dad was my father too.
Of course he was, Victoria said, her tone softening into something almost patronizing. But let’s be practical. What do you know about estate law or property management? Before Carmen could respond, the front door opened and Derek appeared…
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