#Chapter 88 – Meeting the Family

When we arrive over an hour later, the boys are thrilled, but everyone else is, I think, feeling the strain. The boys spent the rest of the ride continuing to needle Amelia about little things, despite Victor and my equal attempts at intervention.

I may not like the girl, but it’s her wedding – she doesn’t deserve to be tortured just because the boys are bitter that their father has chosen her over me.

I bite my tongue at this thought, unwilling to admit…well. That’s all beside the point.

As I climb out of the van I can feel a little mist in the air. Curious, I walk a few steps around the van towards a great rushing sound and gasp, taking in the sight of the gigantic waterfall that plunges from a cliff face several stories above us. It’s absolutely breathtaking.

“Whoaaa!” Ian shouts, running over towards the rail that separates the wedding facility from the plunging cataract. “That’s incredible!”

“It’s so cool!” Alvin shouts, following him. “Mom! Can I go over it in a barrel!?”

“What!?” I shout, horrified at the idea. I stride over to them, grabbing both their hands.

“It’s safe!” Alvin whines.

“We watched a documentary about Niagara Falls!” Ian continues the protest.

“None of that,” I say, stern, eager to knock this idea out of their heads. “Absolutely no more conversation on that point. Waterfalls are for looking, not for touching.”

I haul them back to a smirking Victor, who stands by the van. “To be fair,” he says, “at their age I would have had the same impulse.”

“Encourage them any more,” I mutter, “and I’ll shove you into the barrel myself.”

He laughs and then turns away to help Amelia begin to unload the bags. Spotting our own luggage by the side of the van, I bring the boys over to grab it. As we turn back towards the venue, we see a man dressed in black tails walking over to us.

“Madame Ortega, I presume?” He asks.

Madamoiselle, I say in my head, correcting him, but I keep my

face of the venue. “We have a suite prepared for you and your sons.” I

climbs several stories into the air, a beautiful hodgepodge of terraces and balconies from individual rooms and suites. The ballroom, I know, from Amelia telling us perhaps a hundred times, is on the roof of the

I can’t wait to see it. Amelia’s excellent taste has again

Ian calls behind him, waving to Victor, who waves

guy!” Alvin shouts as well, pointing to the butler. I peek over my shoulder and see that Victor is laughing again, clearly happy.

desk. We take the leftmost elevator, all shiny brass and ivory buttons. The butler presses 12 – the top floor – and we zip upwards, my ears popping as we

are only a few rooms ahead of us. Seeing my confusion, the butler explains, “the family suites, madame.” He opens the leftmost door and bows slightly as we enter before him. “Mademoiselle Jones had you listed for a more junior suite, in the floors below, but when I saw the important role that the boys had in the wedding, I realized

meet the butler’s eye and he gives me a small smirk. I laugh a little, pleased, and remind myself to ask Victor

the top of the couch, his hands and face pressed against the

the windows –

admired, and we have staff who

pull the boys down nonetheless. I think I’m

else, madame?…”

He nods his head and starts for the

me a warm smile and nods. “Of course. Anything for a lady,

and I heave a deep sigh, steeling myself for what is surely going to be a complicated weekend. I turn to look again at the beautiful falls, letting them

the butler left, before it closed. She’s a tall woman, about twenty years older than me, with light brown hair coiled into a neat chignon at the back of her neck. She wears a stunning blue dress. It’s refined, but doesn’t shy from taking the sensuous curves of

corner of her mouth lifting into a wry

“I’m sorry,

and into my suite. “Must be my grandchildren.” She kneels on the ground and opens her

been long dreading meeting Victor’s family, though I knew it would be inevitable. I just never imagined I’d have to do it without

her. “Are you our other grandmama?”

in, following close on his

I am better. But you must call me Mimmi, not Grandmama. That is much

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