Free From Barcelona, with Love by Elizabeth Adler

biscuits.” The word polvo meant “dust” and when Paloma bit into the cookie it disintegrated and left a fine white sugary dust all around her mouth. She laughed, blowing it away, making Buena laugh too.
    â€œBuena, did my mom like it here?” she asked, taking a second bite and then demolishing the whole thing because there was no neat way to eat this kind of cookie and it had already crumbled in her hand.
    â€œI only met her once or twice, Paloma, you already know that. She lived all those years in Hollywood and only stopped by here when she was on tour. That’s when she would see her father.”
    â€œAnd Lorenza.”
    â€œAnd Lorenza.”
    â€œDid my mother like Lorenza?”
    â€œThey liked each other well enough. And for the Lord’s sake, Paloma, why did you go and cut off all that wonderful hair? Do you want to look like a boy or something?”
    â€œNope.” Paloma took a second cookie. “I just want to look like me.”
    â€œLike yourself?”
    The child drank the milk, looking at Buena over the top of the glass. Buena noticed her nails were bitten.
    â€œJust myself,” she agreed. “That’s all I am. Myself. Trouble is, though … Buena, mostly I don’t know who I am. And sometimes I think I never will. Unless I can find my mother and then she’ll tell me. Won’t she?”
    Buena nodded. “Mothers always know these things. And I hope so, Paloma, I surely hope so.”
    But the truth was Buena did not think so. She thought Paloma would need to work out her life all on her own. That was just the way life was. You had it in your grasp, all was well—then suddenly you no longer had it and everything went wrong.
    Tears threatened as she looked at the scrawny child, with her cropped red hair sticking up in tufts like a Shetland pony’s, still worrying about her mother as well as about what was going on in the salón, and why all the family was here, at the old Ravel house that no one ever came to anymore. Buena wondered too.

 
    Chapter 10
    In the salón, Jassy had thrown herself onto the sofa. Ignoring the coffee she had spilled, she fluffed her skirt over her long thighs and said brightly, “So? Why are we here? What’s up?”
    Lorenza took a napkin and mopped up the coffee. “I should have used your skirt instead,” she said, irritated. “After all, that’s what caused it.”
    Jassy shifted her long blond hair languidly over her shoulder and gave her a smile. “Go ahead,” she invited.
    Lorenza gave an exasperated sigh. Jassy had made her life difficult from day one.
    Jassy sighed back. She had always been jealous of Lorenza, she’d hated her father’s attention being taken away from her, and she was the first to threaten to sue when the will was read and it was discovered that Juan Pedro had left Lorenza everything. Well, not exactly everything. He’d also left his youngest daughter, Bibi, one-third of the valuable vineyards and the income to be held in trust for any children she might have. Now, Lorenza controlled that trust for Paloma.
    Jassy refolded her skirt, glancing at her brother, who was sitting up straight now, arms crossed over his chest, head thrust aggressively forward. Antonio was, Jassy decided, quite a good-looking man; well, maybe not so much good-looking as striking. Commanding. Like her father. While poor Floradelisa, hunched tiredly on the edge of her seat, looked like the hired help, though Jassy would never have hired her. She was too untidy, scruffy, even. Her sister needed grooming lessons and even so she doubted she would ever catch a man. Good thing her restaurant was doing well, so well in fact that she was now famous. Floradelisa’s had won all kinds of awards, though her food was not Jassy’s style. Personally, she was a caviar and champagne woman. Add a salad and some chocolate and that could be her chosen last meal before