Free How Tía Lola Ended Up Starting Over by Julia Álvarez

me.”
    Tía Lola’s forehead creases with concern. “How
are
you feeling these days, Colonel Charlebois? You don’t seem yourself.”
    “Don’t you start fussing over me,” the colonel says gruffly, but you can tell he is touched by Tía Lola’s concern. “I’m just a little tired lately, that’s all. And no, it has nothing to do with your B&B or my wonderful new housemates. I suppose now that baseball season is over, there’s not much for me to do. I sit around all day and nod off. I try to read, but my eyes have gotten so bad.”
    “I’ve got an idea,” Victoria pipes up. She has been feeling pangs of shame. It’s well into her second month in the colonel’s house, and she can’t remember the last timeshe sat down to visit with the old man. He’s just been so easy to overlook in all the hectic excitement of their move to a new town, a new school, new friends, the B&B, babysitting for her little sisters. But that’s no reason to ignore him. “How about if I read to you a little every day? Maybe the newspaper or a history book.” Her father would love that. He is big on his daughters knowing the deeds of the past.
    “That is a lovely offer, my dear.” The colonel’s eyes have gone all misty. “But you are a busy young lady.”
    “No, I’m not!” Victoria says with surprising determination. Her father has often noted that his sweet, pliant eldest has a will of steel once she decides on a certain course. “And this way, I can learn all about the great deeds of the past and stuff.” The offer itself is genuine, but the follow-up is baloney, and the colonel knows the difference. “Really, it’ll be fun,” Victoria adds with convincing warmth.
    “Okay, we’ve got a date. But on two conditions: First, I pay for this reading service. Second, I’ve had enough history in my life. I think a little romantic fiction would do me some good, or maybe that Harry Potter fellow.” The colonel winks at Victoria. “Who knows?” he adds, looking over at Tía Lola. “Between your ginger teas and your readings”—he nods to each lovely lady—“I’ll be dancing merengue by Christmas!”
    When the phone rings again, Victoria hurries to answer it. But it turns out to be for Colonel Charlebois. “Your cleaning girl,” Victoria says, reentering the room.
    The colonel gets up grumpily. He has already told the teenage girl that he doesn’t need her to clean the wholehouse anymore. The Espada family has insisted on doing the housework as a way of compensating the colonel for not charging them rent. Needless to say, the girl is not pleased. “My mother’s going to kill me if I lose this job,” she has reportedly told him. Partly to help her out, and also because deep down the gruff old man is a sweetheart, the colonel has kept her on part-time to do his washing and ironing, attend to his things, etc. She slips in and out so quietly, no one but Papa and Colonel Charlebois have laid eyes on her.
    Out on the hall phone, the colonel sounds like he’s finalizing arrangements for tomorrow’s cleaning. “Okay then, Miss Beauregard. My regards to your mother.”
    Tía Lola jumps as if she just sat down on Essie’s whoopee cushion, a gag that Victoria’s sister thinks is so hilarious. Victoria means to ask Tía Lola what’s up, but just as the colonel hangs up, the phone rings again. “Oh, good evening, Melanie,” he is saying. “Let me see if she is available.”

    Saturday morning, after sleeping in, the water polo team comes down noisily to breakfast. They wolf down their pancakes, laughing loudly, tossing their napkins across the table at each other. They’re like puppies, Victoria thinks, but even Valentino was better behaved when he was a pup.
    The team has a few hours to kill before their game this afternoon. “Any hot spots in town we should take in?” Cohen asks Victoria, arching an eyebrow suggestively, as if she knows what he means. Just to be a pill, Victoria tells him that there’s a great