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Back Salt and Sugar Save as PDF
Chapters (56)
  1. Cover
  2. Praise
  3. About the Author
  4. Dedication
  5. 1
  6. 2
  7. 3
  8. 4
  9. 5
  10. 6
  11. 7
  12. 8
  13. 9
  14. 10
  15. 11
  16. 12
  17. 13
  18. 14
  19. 15
  20. 16
  21. 17
  22. 18
  23. 19
  24. 20
  25. 21
  26. 22
  27. 23
  28. 24
  29. 25
  30. 26
  31. 27
  32. 28
  33. 29
  34. 30
  35. 31
  36. 32
  37. 33
  38. 34
  39. 35
  40. 36
  41. 37
  42. 38
  43. 39
  44. 40
  45. 41
  46. 42
  47. 43
  48. 44
  49. 45
  50. 46
  51. 47
  52. 48
  53. 49
  54. 50
  55. EPILOGUE
  56. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

We say we’re sorry a thousand times, not just for things in our past, but also for things to come. We stash up on our apologies, because we’re children of a multigenerational feud. We brace for the day when our families will clash again. When they’ll make us hate each other. And even worse, when we’ll feel compelled ourselves.

But just for this brief, magical moment, we’re together.

We hear more customers approach the aisle. We need to separate. Hide. Hide our feelings. But his arms are still around me, one hand on the small of my back, pushing me against him. My grip doesn’t loosen either.

Three seconds until someone will catch a glimpse of us. I don’t want this to end.

Two seconds. I know he’s aware of the countdown, too.

“Lari,” he says. A tiny word like a sigh. My name. But it sounds so powerful in my ears, I feel intoxicated. I look up, and that longing is back in his eyes. And it scares me.

One second.

We peel away just in time, and I sneak out of the store first, a tightness in my chest. His warmth still on my skin. Tears sting my eyes. Mom has never said she’ll sell Salt, I repeat mentally. All she did was keep that lawyer’s business card.

Then why do I feel like a liar? Like I’m betraying Pedro’s trust?

I’m hit with a sudden wave of emotion—terrified of losing Pedro. But I try to push my worries aside. I have to—before I march back into that store and kiss him in front of everyone.

Pedro and I, together, will win this contest. When we do, it won’t matter that my mother or his mother ever considered the supermarket’s offer. Because by then Deals Deals won’t be a threat to our neighborhood anymore.

It’s odd to think our futures rely on a cake recipe. But isn’t that the fate of all Ramires and Molinas?

36

SATURDAY, JUNE 11

Saturday night, the day Mom would have been catering Salt’s biggest event ever, an old wine-colored Fiat Uno parks in front of Salt.

I see it all from my bedroom window.

Dona Clara climbs out, boxes and luggage stacked in the back of the car. She knocks on our front door with her cane, pulling a flimsy shawl over her shoulders. It’s past work hours, but Mom’s insomnia keeps her up and she opens the door right away.

Dona Clara seems in a hurry. She doesn’t want to come inside.