It Had To Be You by Janice Thompson Page A

fumed, not used to sitting still for so long, and definitely not used to this amount of pampering. While Mama worked on her face, Bertina painted her fingernails and Bianca gave her a pedicure.
    When they finished, Rosa stood and approached the mirror over my dressing table, gasping as she saw herself for the first time. “O-oh my.” The face that stared back at her was beautifully made up—not too much, not too little. Just right.
    “Rosa!” I stood beside her, gazing at her reflection. “You look like a movie star.”
    “Laz won’t recognize me.” She giggled. “And that’s not necessarily a bad thing.”
    “Don’t be so hard on yourself!” Bertina said with a wave of her hand. “You’re a beautiful woman.”
    Rosa grimaced and shook her head.
    “Of course she is. Beauty runs in our family,” Bianca assured us all.
    Mama dove in, going on and on about what a head-turner Rosa would be on her wedding day. Listening to my mama and aunts and their girlish chatter brought a smile to my face. Made me wonder if one day Sophia and I would have a conversation like this—say, in forty years or so. Though, of course, I wouldn’t have to wait till then for my wedding day. Hopefully, she wouldn’t either.
    My sister approached and began to fuss with Rosa’s long hair. “We need to put this in a nice updo.” She turned to me. “Bella, do you have any rubber bands? Hairpins?”
    Minutes later, Rosa was seated on the chair at my dressing table, having her hair done. After a bit of work on Sophia’s part, it was beautifully styled. We all gasped at the change. Honestly, Rosa was right. Laz might not recognize her. The transformation was pretty amazing.
    The conversation rose to a roar at this point as we all oohed and aahed at my aunt’s appearance. She stood and turned with her back to the mirror, and Sophia handed her a handheld mirror to use as well. Now seeing the whole picture, Rosa began to cry.
    “It’s so … pretty!”
    “That reminds me of a song.” Bertina began to sing, “I feel pretty, oh so pretty,” from West Side Story , and within seconds, we all joined in, creating a rousing chorus.
    That’s pretty much where our party ended. Francesca appeared in my doorway with a sour look on her face. I found myself distracted, however, by her red negligee. So distracted, in fact, that I actually squeezed my eyes shut to force the image away. At once, everyone stopped singing, freezing in place. Bertina clamped a hand over her mouth. I couldn’t be sure if she did so to stop the song from flowing out or to keep from saying anything about Francesca’s attire.
    “Ladies, I know you haven’t seen each other in ages,” Francesca said, her accent thicker than ever, “but I’ve got to get some rest, and you’re making it impossible. It was a long flight. A very long flight.” She gave my aunts a pensive look. “Surely we all need our beauty sleep.”
    You could’ve heard a pin drop at that proclamation. Something about the words beauty sleep sounded like an accusation. The slumber party ended immediately, though I had my suspicions Bianca, Bertina, and Rosa would’ve tossed a few eggs at Francesca’s head if they’d happened to have any handy. And Sophia surely would have hurled a water balloon at her.
    Francesca disappeared from view, and Bertina’s eyes narrowed to slits. She whispered, “Il pessimo vicini e il parente piu stretto.”
    For this one, I had to ask for a translation.
    “The worst neighbor is the closest relation,” Deanna whispered. “She’s trying to say this is going to be hard for Rosa, marrying into Laz’s family, especially with a woman like that in the mix.”
    Rosa’s expression softened as she looked at her hair in the mirror once again. “Not so. Francesca just needs the love of the Lord, that’s all. I’m not giving up on her. She’s a sweet young thing.”
    “Emphasis on young ,” Bianca said as she rolled her eyes.
    “There’s nothing wrong with being