11. Chapter 11

Mirabel and her Tias had slipped back into the party after Ayla and Elena’s questions were exhausted, and Cassie had thanked them for supporting her daughter. Once she was back in her little boy’s new room, the girl had played wallflower for the most part. She sometimes talked with her past clients when they approached, acknowledging their surprise and accepting their apologies about believing the rumors they didn’t know were about her. She could accept that she had changed quite a bit between five and nine, so the connection wasn’t that easy to make.

Antonio had also intermittently returned to her, introducing his new animal friends to her and excitedly relaying their comments. Apparently, the butterflies liked her for some reason, as did the rats for more understandable reasons; She had made sure that Antonio knew his Tio. The party had wound down rather uneventfully, the villagers slowly filtering out over an hour. After the last of the villagers left, Pepa had redirected Mirabel when she went to put Antonio to bed, suggesting that she go to sleep early since today must have been hard for her. Mirabel had smiled somewhat tightly and wished her son good night before his birth mother led him to his new bed.

Vaguely nervous for her hijo’s first night away from her, Mirabel had slipped into her quiet room and slumped on the bed. (“Are we alone?”)

(“Everyone else is asleep or in their rooms. We can talk now.”) Cassie responded.

Mirabel sighed and grabbed her bag. Putting the shingle on the bed next to her, she asked, (“So, what happened earlier?”)

(“It’s connected to what Candle wants us to do.”) The house replied cagily, the ripple of curtains for the candle’s name sounding halfway between annoyed and nervous.

(“What did he want anyway? You know I can’t understand him like I do you.”) Mirabel sighed, toying with the shingle a bit.

(“Candle’s magic is based on the family’s togetherness. He’s been trying to hint at that to Alma for years with the gifts. He noticed after Isabella that he was weakening and that Alma wasn’t seeing anyone’s issues, so he made someone who had to notice. Unluckily, Dolores is too tactful and socially awkward to bring those problems up. People were struggling under the weight of their tasks, so he made someone strong enough to share some of that weight. But Luisa’s gift was used on the community’s burdens rather than the family’s. Camillo’s gift was in a similar vein, but the magic couldn’t mimic the other’s gifts, so he was relegated to filling in for tired parents or busy store owners.”)

Cassie stilled as she felt Pepa leave Antonio’s room. Once she had gone into her own, the loci continued.

(“Then you… You were his last attempt. He wanted to make a point that you were a part of the family even if you didn’t seem to have a gift. He hoped that Alma would see how much you care about the family as a whole and take you under her wing as the next Candle Bearer. Your empathy would have made you point out the problems in her handling of things. Kind of backfired on him, though, as Alma was a bit too far gone by then. Now Candle’s holding on by a thread, and you’re hardly able to publically take over for the woman as things are. So in a last-ditch effort to fix things, he’s decided to ask us to play family therapists and fix-it-women. Our problem: The status quo is what’s hurting the family, and they’re hurting themselves to keep it. When people want to keep something that’s hurting them, they’re more likely to grip the sword’s blade tighter than let it go.”)

(“But what does that have to do with you falling apart? As much as I love the idea of helping the relatives,”) -note her eye-roll- (“what made it so important that he needed to hold Antonio’s gift hostage to get us to do it?”) Mirabel asked, sensing something off about the situation.

(“Well … ”) the floorboards shifted nervously (“The thing is, the Encanto's existence and every miracle he’s created relies on Candle’s continued magic. They aren’t self-sustaining. It would be fine if everything was healthy as each new Madrigal would build the relationships to fuel their own gift, give or take a few sibling rivalries. But as is, each new gift puts further strain on a limited pool of power.

“End result: giving Antonio a gift has shortened Candle’s ability to hold on with the current status quo by decades. When he told me about this last month, we patched it by connecting Candle to your found family as well. It was a loophole in his magic. When he made your door dissolve, he designated you as Alma’s successor by basically making me your room. And since Alma has been remiss in her duties, you’re able to take over her responsibilities until she can retake them. So, anyone you consider close family can be used to fuel the magic.

“Of course, that also means that if you don’t feel like you have any family, the magic dies. So, when you felt like the town re-learning your face would make you lose your Tias, and Antonio’s gift would mean that you would lose him. Well, the magic started to fail; luckily, you snapped out of it in time and reassured yourself that they were just intrusive thoughts. This isn’t sustainable, though. The patch only keeps the illusion of normality; it doesn’t solve the underlying problem. If there is a significant enough argument in the central family, then even the supplement from your Tias wouldn’t be enough. I can’t help there either since my body is one of the miracles the relationships are sustaining.”)

(“And when you say every miracle …”) Mirabel trailed off as she started to understand.

(“My body was the second miracle Candle ever created. I’ve evolved since then, so I can hold myself together better than the family’s gifts can. But yes, the house is held together by his magic. If he runs out, then I fall apart. My soul is connected to my family, you, and Antonio because of my new nature. But a spirit without a body is pretty useless; I would be as good as dead.”) Casita said, her “voice” somber. She inserted some false pep and suggested, (“At least the mountains are natural structures now, so they should stick around mostly unharmed…”) She trailed off as she noticed that it wasn’t working.

Mirabel gave a worried sigh, (“So, I either save the miracle… or… You die, and the family loses their gifts and their home.”)

Casita made a sound halfway between consoling and encouraging, (“I know if anyone can do this, it’s you. You’re my little miracle after all, and I’ll try to help as much as I can.”)

Mirabel took a calming breath, (“How long do I, we, have?”)

Cassie gave a nervous squeak, (“Two weeks minimum, a few months max.”)

Mirabel put her less-than socially acceptable English repertoire to use.

When Ayla got up early the day after the gift ceremony, she had a lot to do before the Madrigals got into town. Cassie hinted last night that Mirabel would be tied up with some sort of issue up at the house for a while. So, the sisters would put the plans they spent most of last night plotting into action before their sobrina could talk them out of executing said plans.

She had slipped around the party after the impromptu meet ‘n greet with her apprentice’s house-mother (and wasn’t that still a trip), subtly inquiring with some of her frequent clients whether they would like to discuss some things the next day. Many of them had agreed to meet this morning at her shop and spread the word. So, she needed the room to be prepared for a large breakfast meeting. Daniella had been kind enough to offer to make the food for it since Ayla, the consummate bachelorette, didn’t really know how to cook well.

She came down the stairs into her shop from the upper level where she lived to clear out some space for the meeting. However, as she began cleaning, she ran across the project that she had been working on before the Gift ceremony. Alma Madrigal had deigned to personally enter her shop a few weeks ago for the third time in the woman’s life to commission dresses for the family’s women. Usually, when the woman needed something made, she would send one of her brood, typically either the shape-shifter or Julietta’s husband. But, she wanted to dictate the choices personally this time and discuss what she wanted without a middleman.

Ayla had been excited at the large order and the relative artistic freedom she had been given, sans the color restrictions. She had gotten right onto the essential dresses, Isabella’s and Alma’s apparently, so that they could be reworked if they weren’t up to snuff. The day after Ayla had taken the commission, Mirabel had taken one look at the order form and requested to take over the usual commissions so that Ayla could focus on the important order. Ayla wished she had picked up on that hint rather than just accepting wholeheartedly in her excitement. She looked at the order form again, and in her newfound clarity, she recognized something. The order was only for six dresses. There were 7 women in the family, and Ayla knew that Mirabel wouldn’t wear a suit. The realization was solidified by the fact that none of the measurements in the order would fit Mirabel. She felt the bitter cold anger that had receded a bit overnight rise in her chest and coat her mind in a layer of hoarfrost as she contemplated her options.

The dresses were all sitting innocently on dress forms in the woman’s sizes, awaiting being stitched together. She purposely walked over to the purple dress she had been working on for weeks, breathed in, grabbed a sleeve, and pulled with a violent exhale. It tore cleanly, most of the pins falling out rather than pulling apart the fabric. She saw the snobby girl Mirabel described in her stories overlayed on the lavender fabric. The ice thickened and she systematically pulled and ripped apart the dress. Then she moved to the dark pink and maroon number and did the same to the scowling old lady whose visage her mind helpfully replaced the dress form with. She continued on for each of the dresses, sans a simple large skirt and blouse, and a pretty red number, clearly for the two madrigals she wasn’t quite decided on yet. Still running on anger, she picked up her shears and sliced the pieces apart, leaving only quilting squares; hopefully, they would make a nice blanket to donate.

Anger temporarily sated, she sighed contently and picked up the order form. The seamstress turned it over to the side she usually barely touched. Sometimes orders needed to be canceled, and most of the form’s back was for this. There were only two things on the back, a set of checkboxes and a few lines for writing. The box usually checked was completed for the form to be filed away and never touched unless clothing needed altering or replicated. She checked the other, Canceled. On the lines where the reasons were put, she wrote heavily, “Client banned from the store due to inappropriate conduct towards an employee.” She then pulled out the store’s stationery and copied the form letter she would usually send in such a case. It was a simple thing, just an empty formal apology for the order’s cancellation and leeway for adding to it if she felt the need to explain herself. She didn’t feel the need here, so she just filled in the salutation and signed it. If Alma Madrigal wanted to know why her order was canceled, she could come down here herself and ask. Ayla almost felt some anticipation for that time since she was the only seamstress in the small village.

Being banned from her shop was a big deal for a family as important as the Madrigals. Without access to Ayla’s work, the woman and most of her family would need to buy the baggy uni-sex, “to be tailored” clothing from the general store and tailor it themselves. Mirabel wouldn’t be able to help with that, though, since she had been legally Ayla’s apprentice for a few years now. As Ayla’s apprentice, she wasn’t allowed to work for people her mentor didn’t approve of, and Ayla certainly would disagree with the girl working for the Madrigals right now.

She felt a smidge bad for putting her sobrina in that position, but she also thought that the girl may be a bit glad to be free of some of her many chores. Of course, the woman wouldn’t stop her from working for the people the girl actually liked in the family, but that was three people at most. Ayla was neutral on Dolores and Luisa, the two were nice enough, and despite seemingly lacking backbones, the two did seem to care for Mirabel’s wellbeing. Antonio wearing Mirabel’s clothing was a foregone conclusion. Ayla wouldn’t even think of attempting to stop the girl from clothing her son. If there was one thing Ayla could do that would draw the girl to anger (other than the landmine that she had stepped on last night), it would be that.

She also knew that her sisters would be instituting similar bans on the family. Being barred from the cobbler would be problematic quickly with all the walking that the madrigals did, as would their inability to access the blacksmith. The jeweler wouldn’t really be a problem for them … except for the fact that one of them was looking to get proposed to soon. No Jeweler means no rings would be finding their way onto anyone’s finger. And the prospective spouse buying it wouldn’t get around that. When a Rojas banned you from their store, that meant that none of their goods would be finding their way to you. And they were very open about why people were banned from their stores. Maybe if the amazing Madrigals found themselves shunned from the community they served, they would have the time to recognize the fantastic children that they probably already lost.

Ayla sighed as she filed away the form and put the letter in an envelope to be sent. She then moved work tables over to one side of the room and pulled chairs, blankets, and anything else she could think of into comfortable positions for the meeting ahead. She wanted the Madrigals to feel as much of the pain they had caused that little girl as possible, and that included the rumors. She would need quite a few chismosas’ help for that plan to work. Luckily, most of her favorite clients frequently associated with such women.

Daniella came bustling in with a large stoneware pot, her two children padding in behind her at a much more sedate rate with a basket each. “I hope that Changua is ok. I couldn’t think of anything else that I could easily make a lot of, and it should help everyone who indulged too much at the party last night. The Pan de Yuca is from the bakery. Signora Martinez gave me half-off when she heard that they were for this little plotting session.”

“Meeting! Dani. MEE-TING! We aren’t plotting the downfall of anyone, just a bunch of women with a common interest discussing that common interest.” Ayla insisted, taking the pot from her sister and placing it on one of the cleared work tables. Daniella took the chance to put the baskets on the table before shooing her children over to the cushions. Books were quickly produced from her purse and shoved into little hands before she turned back to her sister.

Daniella then raised an eyebrow, crossed her arms, and popped her hip, “So you’re saying that we AREN’T meeting to destroy most of the Madrigal family’s social status in recompense for their actions towards our sobrina?”

“Don’t be silly. Of course, we are; we just can’t say that outright. The Encanto has ears, remember.” Ayla whispered, exaggeratedly looking left and right.

“Those ears are asleep for at least another two hours, three if our sobrina gets them up late. That’s not even mentioning that she'd probably be on our side, considering what Mirabel said last night.” Daniella deadpanned, “If you want to play out your espionage novels, we can and basically are. Just don’t try and kid yourself while doing so.”

Ayla blushed a bit and huffed, “Well, excuse me for trying to add some levity here. I’m just excited to finally be able to do something.”

Daniella sighed. “Yes, I suppose it is rather exciting, precipitating circumstances notwithstanding. It’s also nice to finally get back at Mirabel’s family for her. Poor girl is too nice to ever want to force the issue.”

Ayla snorted, “She’s a little saint, the only reason she would have been able to stand it this long. So we get to play the guardian Powers, rain vengeance on her oppressors for her.”

“I suppose it will be Biblical.” Daniella snarked as she stacked some bowls next to the pot. “Tone it down a bit when people show up, though. We don’t want to scare them away. The ladies care about Mira, but that doesn’t mean that they want to be compared to avenging angels.”

“I get it. Don’t worry. I figure that we can just lay out everything Mira’s told us, and they’ll take it from there. Heck, I know that Maria Guzman is coming; there’s a good chance that she’ll lead the crusade. The woman may be an old friend of Alma’s, but she’s also quite taken with Mirabel. The girl made a few of her favorite dresses. I suppose it depends on how her friendship with Alma is doing right now.” Ayla mused, putting out a cup with spoons in it.

During this exchange, Elena and Carmella had come in unnoticed. The redhead slipped between the two women and grabbed a bowl attempting to steal some of the soup. “I overheard about that from Sophia Guzman and Felicia Ortiz at my store two days ago.” The horologist’s in-laws jumped a bit in surprise. “I was fixing Sophia’s watch while Felicia was looking at some of Mel’s earings.” Carmella gave a hum of agreement as she passed towards the kitchen to brew coffee en mass. “Anyway, Signoras Guzman and Madrigal are arguing right now. Alma is trying to move up Isabela and Mariano’s proposal, and Maria wants to give the two more time to get to know each other. Of course, Sophia’s behind her mother entirely. She’s been against the betrothal from the beginning; she just didn’t want to argue with her mother when the woman was behind it. Apparently, Alma’s trying to set up a dinner soon, to smooth things over, but Sophia’s been trying to talk her son out of proposing.” Foxlike grins slithered over Daniella and Ayla’s faces at this information.

“How hard do you think it will be to cancel that dinner?” Ayla asked Daniella.

“Oh, even if half of the things that I’ve heard from Mira about Isabela are true, then I doubt that Maria Guzman would want her grandson to have anything to do with her. Not to mention that it would give Sophia even more ammo to convince her son to drop the girl like a rotten papaya.” Daniella replied, her smile sharpening.

“Excellent.” Ayla chuckled. If Dolores could hear her, the girl would’ve been stuck between joy at someone helping to break the betrothal and terror at the supervillain-esque laugh that the woman’s chuckle quickly devolved into.