I smiled. My mother was a good cook and had raised us on a lot of the traditional Puerto Rican dishes she’d grown up with back in Arecibo. Arroz con gandules, mofongo, tostones. But she’d also been influenced over the years by my very Southern father, who loved corn bread and greens, fried chicken, biscuits and gravy, and sweet-potato pie. Mom had loved learning from Granny Grace how to make the food Granny had raised her family on, and Mom had become a sort of hybrid cook—pulling elements of the two cultures together into one very happy kitchen.

But Abuela in the kitchen meant a return to the heart of what I loved most about my Puerto Rican heritage. Time in the kitchen was as much about love as it was about the sofrito—the seasoning Abuela put in everything. Memories of her standing in her kitchen scooping the homemade sauce into ice cube trays so she could freeze it and pop out a cube whenever she needed one, filled my mind. She loved to cook for us. And I loved that she loved it. “Can we make pasteles?” I probably sounded nine years old blurting out the question like I did, but longing for home and nostalgia for the meat-filled pastries we’d made every time we’d visited Abuela washed over me with such strength it was almost painful.

“Of course we can. You’ll help. And John. And your boyfriend too. Even your father will help.”

“I can’t wait to see you, Abuela.”

“I can’t wait to meet your young man. I hope he’s worthy of you, Lane. You deserve the very best.”

“Thank you, Abuela. I promise he is. You’re going to love him.”

Simon: Had a meeting at the inn today and stopped by the kitchen. Lane loves crème brûlée.

Jamie: Got it. Thanks.

Simon: You know, YOU could do this research just as easily.

Jamie: Not from California. Long-distance relationships are terrible.

Simon: Yes, they are. I agree with you there.

Jamie: Give me a book to mention. What could I have read on the flight home?

Simon: If I give you a suggestion, are you going to read it?

Jamie: Probably.

Simon: I don’t like this game.

Jamie: Come on. Last time I ask for help.

Simon: It will not be the last time.

Jamie: Probably not. But you’ll help me anyway? What’s the last thing you read?

Simon: Cost Management: A Strategic Emphasis

Jamie: That’s not funny.

Simon: You asked what I read.

Jamie: Not helping.

Simon: Tell her you read Fountainhead. Ayn Rand.

Jamie: I’ve heard of that one. What’s it about?

Simon: On the surface, it’s about architecture. But it’s more about passion. Living for what you really believe in. I’m not sure if Lane has read it, but if she has, she loved it.

Jamie: You’re sure?