At home, Imelda sat staring at the picture. There was something enchanting about Rafael's eyes. She wondered who he was in relation to her. Was he a forgotten relative? Or just a family friend? She figured her parents would know.

Imelda's mother, Rhea's, upbeat voice answered the phone.

"Mama, it's me."

"Oh, Imelda, you're father and I was just talking about you. You probably know the answer to this. Where did I leave your Tiá Minerva's molé recipe? I've been searching all over for it."

"Ay, mom. I told you to put it in that recipe book I bought you," said Imelda, laughing.

"I know. But she was talking so much that I didn't want to just get up and go to the kitchen," said Rhea, "Oh, I'll just buy something from El Lagarto. Your father's club won't know the difference."

"That's the best way to go. Besides, isn't molé hard to do? Your hands have been hurting you lately."

"Yeah, but Lupe was going on and on about how good hers was. I just thought I'd try breaking out a family recipe, you know. I know ours will taste better than hers."

"Oh mama, but you don't know how to cook!" exclaimed Imelda.

"Yeah, but it would still taste better than Lupe's." Rhea and Imelda laugh over the phone.

"Listen, mama, I found a photo in the boxes and…" said Imelda.

"Good, you're finally going through the boxes. Anything good?" asked Rhea.

"Yes, actually, I found a photograph of a young guy. He looks a lot like Tió Charlie, only with black hair. It's a really old picture."

"Oh, does it have anything written on the back?" asked Rhea.

"Yes, mama, it says Rafael," the other end of the line went quiet, "Mama, does that name sound familiar?"

"No, it doesn't sound familiar," said Rhea, her voice a little shaky.

"Are you okay, mama?" asked Imelda, "you sound funny."

"No…yes…listen, I think your father's calling me," said Rhea, "I better let you go, sweetheart."

"Sure, mama, are you sure you're okay? Mama?" Imelda realized Rhea was no longer on the other line.

"What? You're Miss Journalist. What do you mean I shouldn't pursue this?" asked Imelda, facing Jackie across the table.

"Yeah, but family's different. You don't know the full story, Imelda. Maybe your family forgot about this Rafael for a reason," said Jackie, sipping her red wine afterwards.

Imelda chose the restaurant because it was her favorite. Now her best friend was spoiling the occasion.

"Besides, why are you pursuing this, Imelda? You have so many kick-ass photos that you can put in the exhibit. Even Clive agrees with me. He said you're making all of our family trees look dull."

"I know. But…maybe if I ask differently or approach it from another angle, I'll be able to learn more."

"You said it yourself. Your mother sounds uneasy every time you mention Rafael's name."

"Aren't you just the least bit curious, Jackie?" Jackie's facial expression didn't change, "Well, maybe if it was your family, you'd be taking an interest. Anyhow, Jackie, I've been researching my family's history for a few weeks now and…"

"You didn't tell me that," said Jackie.

"Well, that was what tonight was for. Anyhow, I was researching my family and there were some family members that traveled to New York City. I guess they were looking for work in the city, and since the African-Americans were having luck there, my family probably thought it'd be a good opportunity."

"Did you find Rafael, then?" asked Jackie, as she leaned forward to hear Imelda better. The journalist was coming out of her.

"No, not exactly. Okay, there was a record of one of my relatives: Hector Garza, who was my grandmother's uncle. Then, there is Ignacio Flores—a man listed as living with my uncle in a Census record. Flores was my grandmother's last name before she got married. But I don't know if there is any relation. She only had two older brothers and a younger sister—and I know all of their names. Rafael doesn't come up in any records. Ignacio does, though."

"But what does that got to do with Rafael?" asked Jackie.

"That's what I'm getting at. Look at the picture. The dressing style. It has to be the same time period. What if Rafael joined them later on? I mean it has to be that. I checked New York City records for Rafael, but all of the names didn't match up with the guy in the picture."

"Imelda, you don't even know if the guy is even related to you," said Jackie.

"But what if I find out he is. It would be so incredible to add a lost branch to the family tree," said Imelda, her arms waving frantically in the air.

"All right, somebody has had way too many Mai Tais. Waiter, check please?"