Treasure of the World Tara Sullivan (inspirational books for women TXT) 📖

the wrought-iron grille pulled over the doorway, but no one comes to let me in. Now that I think about it, given that today was a holiday, it might not have been open even if I had gotten here earlier.

I thread my fingers through the grille and rest my forehead against the cold ironwork. I need the medicine. I refuse to go home without it. I won’t show up in César’s doorway until there’s something I can do to help him. Sighing in frustration, I turn away from the pharmacy and follow Abuelita’s suggestion.

It’s a Friday, so Yenni should still be at the posada. Remembering Doña Arenal’s command that I only be there the one night when I was at death’s door, I’m not sure of my welcome. Even so, thoughts of warm rooms and good food point my feet in the direction of the inn. Outside the servants’ gate, however, I pause.

Deep, deep in my heart, so deep the cold Andean winds haven’t managed to snuff it out yet, I’ve been holding a hope that I might someday get a job at the posada too, like Yenni. I have no idea how she managed to get a choice like this, but I want a way off the mountain desperately. And, as much as I want a meal from Carmencita and a safe bed for tonight, I hate to gamble with my chances of a future job. I’m still debating whether it’s worth making them mad at me by showing up and begging for a roof for another night when the door opens suddenly and Yenni is standing in front of me.

“Ana? What are you doing here?”

“Yenni? Oh, hi,” I say awkwardly, covering my surprise with an overly-bright smile. “Are you done for the week?” She’s still wearing her maid’s uniform.

“Usually I would be, but with the parade and everything, there’s more to do.” Yenni shuts the heavy door behind her. “Carmencita didn’t have enough sugar to finish the breakfast breads for the morning. I need to run out and get some more. The little corner store should still be open, but only for another fifteen minutes or so. Want to keep me company?”

“Sure,” I say, falling into step beside her as she jogs down the street.

“So,” she says, “what brings you to the door of the posada at this hour?”

I tell Yenni all about the parade, since she missed it, and César getting sick, and the pharmacy being closed. Yenni shakes her head in sympathy.

“They definitely won’t be open until tomorrow,” she agrees.

As we walk, we update each other on our brothers: I tell Yenni about everything that has happened with Daniel, and she tells me Santiago is feeling better and is back to school.

We get to the little corner shop. It’s tiny really: only a room in a woman’s house. There’s not even a door to get in: it’s a barred window that opens onto the street. You can look through the bars into the small room and see the items on the shelves along the walls. It’s basic stuff: sugar and rice in little plastic twist-tie bags, cans of Inca Kola, batteries, pencils, single-use shampoo pods. The woman sits just inside the window, and you ask for what you want. You give her your money and she hands you the item and your change. It’s a good system. She can stay open late and still be safe because she’s behind the heavy iron bars, inside her house.

Yenni puts her purse on the windowsill and counts out the coins. She pays the woman, and the woman hands her two of the plastic bags of sugar and shuts the wooden shutters inside the window. We barely made it in time before she closed up for the night. When a motorcycle backfires behind us, we both jump in surprise and whip around to face the street. When we see the cause of the noise, we laugh shakily. Yenni smiles at me, about to head back to the posada. I decide now is the time to ask.

“So, Yenni . . . I was wondering . . . is there any chance I could spend the night with you?”

Yenni, looking uncomfortable, shakes her head.

“No, sorry. I can’t bring you with me like before. I know Doña Arenal let you stay the last time, but afterward I overheard her talking with one of her lady friends, saying she regretted it. That she was running an inn, not a charity. If I brought you back, I’m afraid I’d lose my job.”

“Oh, Yenni, I’m so sorry.”

She shrugs. “Not your fault. The doña changed her mind, is all.”

I try not to let my disappointment show on my face. Not just for tonight, but also for the future. If the doña changed her mind about me, it means she probably won’t ever hire me.

“Do you need a place to stay? Are you alone?” Yenni seems worried.

I can’t put my problems onto her. She needs to get back with the sugar so that Carmencita can finish the baking for tomorrow. She needs to keep her job and get her brother off the mountain.

“No, I’m fine,” I lie. “I can stay with my cousin. I just missed Carmencita’s cooking.”

Yenni dimples.

“Well, come around the back door tomorrow morning and I’ll sneak you out a piece of the sweet bread,” she says.

“Okay,” I say. “See you later.”

“Bye, Ana!” Yenni waves over her shoulder and hurries off in the direction of the posada. For a few minutes I stand there, leaning against the peeling paint of the concrete wall, resting my forehead against the iron bars of the closed shop window. Finally, I huff out a breath and straighten. The night is only getting later, the streets more dangerous. I need to figure out another plan as quickly as possible.

As I step away from the window, my toe catches on something. Bending down in the dim light, I see that it’s Yenni’s coin purse. She must have missed putting it in the pocket of her apron when she