When Julio and Rosita both glanced to her way too many times during breakfast, Coco realized the question that was burning in their minds. The shoes...did she?
They were secured, with her other slippers, in the hide out. Coco had continued to ponder it the entire rest of the night after leaving her mother, and knew she was running a risk if Imelda asked after the donation workers and their bins, but...she just had to trust her mother felt the subject dealt with enough that she would not ask.
Julio was supposed to be the one dropping them off...so she really should let him in on the secret...in case he took Mama's ire.
She would tell him, she decided, next time she got a chance. She just hadn't since deciding this morning to stash them there, and now was not the time. Along with the amount of other things she ran, Imelda was still in charge of the collective family dinner table, and came by spooning more Chilaquiles before anyone even had the chance to ask or miss it on their plates, before expertly settling herself to both enjoy the lively conversation and watch the table. Well, there was a distinct subdudness to the conversation right now.
Coco strove to push past, and possibly even erase it, "So, Rosita, I passed Señora Flores yesterday, and she said to tell you no rush on the loaning of your book, whenever you finish it she'll come by, even if it doesn't coincide with the shoe order of hers".
"Oh but I'm sure I'll be done by then!", Rosita answered, "I just have to find out if Gonzalo gets moved to his tío's fields before he can confess his feelings!".
This time, and with more information on the book, Imelda scoffed, "What nonsense, and when did they set this one?".
"1880", Rosita answered. Imelda had not been alive then, unless it was closer to the end of the decade, of course, but still rolled her eyes and was sure they got things wrong. She would have commented on how this silly romance probably wouldn't have even got off the ground if Gonzalo's tío had wanted him in the fields. He'd have gone to the fields if that was the case, not hung about, but she did not feel like even remotely getting on such a topic, and especially after last night.
Coco, understanding, moved the conversation to an easier flow of Señora Flores' shoes and material. It was during this, and while the family found their easy rhythem on what they knew about, and discussed their differing roles, Coco having the least to say just because to her it was a chore like any other, that the sound reached their ears.
Oh no...
Coco flinched sympathetically at the first tune. A band of at least three perhaps, but the trumpet had grabbed attention first with it's loud cry. Mama was at the door, flinging still safe for children's ears reprimands and threats and shoes in a heart beat, she was so familiar with this reaction.
Victoria was the first to notice it, as the trio rushed past the open door from Mama Imelda's angle of going out to meet and chase them off. "That's Ricardo Flores, he gave me Helado money last week", she said, just in comment, and of course this was before even she knew he was a no good musician her Abuela would be against. Coco and Rosita instantly frowned, knowing what was coming.
"Mama...he was nice to Victoria...maybe...don't...", Coco turned, as if to impart some logic. Rosita too, for the sake of her books and just friendship, gaped, but couldn't force her words out, especially as Julio subtly shook his head.
Imelda only glanced sharply over, and both women stopped even this. the matriarch sat before going on. "Of course I'm not going to cancel a sale I already agreed to, our word in our bond, but...I may ponder future requests...I won't have Rivera Shoes on that young trouble maker...Victoria, you tell him no thank-you if he offers again.".
Coco and Rosita shared a look of sympathy before Imelda could catch it. Sympathy for the poor boy and their business. Coco also reached over to run a hand through her perhaps confused little girl's hair.