"I know you, don't I? You're the girl from the chocolate shop. We didn't order any chocolate today, so will you kindly take that basket somewhere else?"
The Flores family butler was not unlike the Flores family townhouse: tall, narrow, elegant and forbidding. He stared down his nose at Luisa Rodriguez so coldly that she wished she could throw said basket at his head.
"It's not an order," she said instead. "It's a gift. For Don Francisco. Can I see him, please?"
"Don Francisco is indisposed."
"I know," she almost snapped. "The whole city knows, after that shipwreck. Why do you think I want to see him? I need to make sure he's okay. Now are you gonna let me in or not?"
"Young woman, I don't know who you think you are to His Lordship, but I am under strict orders not to disturb - "
The butler's rising indignation was cut short by a rustle of satin skirts and soft, yet authoritative voice coming from behind him. "Who is that?"
"It's the Rodriguez girl, Doña. I've already asked her to leave."
Francisco's mother, Doña Rosa, whose black gown and upswept silver hair made her look even taller than she was, came gliding along the hall and surveyed Luisa through her monocle. They had met before and disliked each other cordially, but for the first time, something flickered behind that gilded monocle that was almost like hope.
Luisa bobbed a curtsey, trying to look as inoffensive as she could.
"I do not need to remind you, do I, of my son's condition?" Doña Rosa said to the butler.
"Of course not, Doña. That's why - "
"Grief for his friends is understandable, but this is something else. At this point, I am willing to admit anyone into this house who has even the slightest chance of reaching him." Even you, was the lady's unspoken implication, as the monocle focused on Luisa.
The butler bowed his acquiescence and stepped out of the way. Luisa followed Doña Rosa through the house, clutching her basket, feeling short and chubby and plain among all its luxury, but determined not to let it overwhelm her. Her family made the finest chocolate in Avalor. Surely that was worth something too? More importantly, if Francisco really was as unwell as his mother described him, how was even the finest chocolate in Avalor going to help?
"This way," said Doña Rosa. "Leave the door open."
Luisa was not going to dignify that with a response.
Since both her hands were full, she pushed the door with her foot. It banged open louder than she meant it to. She blundered into the sickroom like the proverbial bull in a china shop.
"Mamá, I told you, I don't … Luisa?"
In the middle of the enormous curtained bed lay a figure she almost didn't recognize as her Francisco. He was thin and pale, but that she had expected; what she hadn't expected was the fretfulness of his tone or the way he didn't even turn his head. Instead of running to his bedside to kiss him, scold him, or hand over the basket, she shuffled forward and fidgeted in place.
"Uh … hi," she said softly. "I … I've come to say how sorry I am, about your friends and the ship and … and everything. Whatever you need, I'm here."
"Luisa … please go away."
"Wait. What?"
"I'm … not well." His voice, that beautiful deep voice that used to make her melt when he sang to her, was a thin murmur almost swallowed up by the heavy bed curtains. "I don't want you to see me like this."
"I don't understand." She stared at his face, his black hair tousled on the pillow, his mustache gone ragged, looking for spots or anything else that might explain this. "You're not sick with anything catching, are you?"
"No."
"Then why … ?"
Walking along the side of the bed, she saw a sketchbook lying open on the nightstand. He always used to show her his sketches, and now he made no protest when she picked up the book. Could this give her any clues about his state of mind?
She found a sketch of Los Tres in full sail, wearing black eye masks and devil-may-care grins. The middle figure, the one with his hand on the steering wheel, had a vicious scribble drawn over his face. The pencil had torn holes through the paper.
"Is this you?" She held up the sketch. "Why would … What are you doing to yourself?"
Luisa hadn't known his two friends very well. Their social circles hadn't overlapped, although unlike some nobles with common-born lovers, Francisco had always been proud to introduce her to his peers. She grieved for them, but even more for him. It wasn't his body that was sick, it was his soul.
Still, she finally recognized this stranger in the bed as her own Francisco. The man she loved had the biggest heart in all the realms. He was only in this state because he cared so much.
"They called me El Capitán, you know. I planned that trip. I was responsible. It was my fault."
"What are you talking about? How is a storm your fault?"
"I should have turned the ship around as soon as I saw the clouds." He shook his head restlessly on the pillow. "That was your hero. That was the man you were in love with. He's gone, if he ever existed. I am all that's left."
A woman in love was supposed to be compassionate, and she was. She was full to bursting with compassion, so much it hurt, but that did not prevent her from becoming suddenly and incandescently angry.
"Don't you tell me what I feel, Francisco Flores! Who do you think I am, some idiot girl who only wants you when you're perfect? Tell me you don't love me anymore and I'll go, but if this is because you're hurting, I'll only come back again and again. Do you hear me?"
She set her basket down on the nightstand with a thud and stomped around the room, leaving footprints on the carpets with her common boots, yanking back all the curtains until the room was flooded with natural light. Francisco recoiled, flinging up his hand to shade his eyes, bristling like an outraged cat over the intrusion - but along with outrage, color came back into his cheeks and life into his eyes. He opened his mouth to protest, and no doubt a lively argument would have ensued, if Doña Rosa had not swept in through the open door at that moment.
"What is all this commotion?" the lady demanded. "My son is not to be disturbed. If you are going to shout at him like that, I must ask you to leave immediately."
The change that came over Francisco was astonishing. He threw back the blankets, pulled himself upright, and somehow gathered so much dignity and authority around himself that his nightshirt might as well have been a uniform, and his bed the helm of his lost ship.
"With all due respect, Mamá, and gratitude for all your care and patience, this is still my house and Señorita Rodriguez is my guest. She shall stay as long as she pleases. And just so you know, I am giving you fair warning: One of these days, it's very possible that she will be coming to stay forever."
He stretched out a hand across the expanse of bedsheets. Luisa gave it a proud, determined squeeze.
"Well! Of all the - " Doña Rosa's eyes opened so wide with shock that her monocle fell out. By the time she replaced it, though, to everyone's surprise, she seemed to have recovered her perspective; in any case, she no longer looked as if she wanted to throw Luisa out on her ear. "It's good to see some color in your face, mijo," she said quietly. "Very well. She may stay, as long as you don't overexert yourself."
"Thank you, Mamá."
"As for the rest … " The lady pursed her lips, clearly holding in whatever unladylike thing she wanted to say. "We shall discuss it later."
She rustled out of the room and down the hall.
"Did you mean that?" asked Luisa with incredulous delight, still holding on to Francisco's hand. "About me staying forever? You're not going to shut me out?"
"If you are brave enough to fight for us, I am determined to do no less. Come here."
She kicked off her boots, climbed up onto the bed, and kissed him until they were both having second thoughts about the open bedroom door. Realizing it might not be the best idea to scandalize Doña Rosa for the third time in one day, she pulled back and showed him the one thing that could distract him from kissing: her basket of La Vida Dulce's finest merchandise.
"Drink this," she said briskly, unpacking a pot of still-warm hot chocolate and a pair of cups. "You'll feel better. There's chili powder in it. It'll get your heart pumping again after being in bed for so long."
"Ay, mi amor, you do that to me every time I see you." He looked up at her with heavy-lidded eyes the same color as the chocolate. "But that does sound delicious."
"If you like that, wait 'til you taste what else I brought."
There were advantages, she thought, remembering the snooty butler earlier, to being the girl from the chocolate shop.
Like love itself, it couldn't work miracles, but it definitely helped.
