Leap Year (✔)

November 28

~93 Days till Leap Day~

If Rosie's house felt small and stifling, Brie's family restaurant was the exact opposite. The bell above the doorway rang as Rosie pushed open the door of Las Buenas Migas. Her cheeks flushed from the cold. Rosie attempted to smooth her hair as the wind pushed the door closed behind her, but it was a lost cause.

After stepping inside the restaurant for only a minute, warmth already started to spread across Rosie's face. It was the combination of the red paint, the crowded tables at lunchtime rush, the colorful paintings of women draped in elaborate dresses, dancing with mustached men in the moonlight. Oh, and the smell of enchiladas and seasoned rice sizzling in the kitchen. If Rosie hadn't been dating Brie, she still would have come to Las Buenas Migas for the heavenly smell.

As soon as the door shut, Mama Torres leaped up from the hostess station and gave Rosie a tight hug, messing up her hair again. From the day they'd met, Brie's mother had wrapped her arms around Rosie and insisted she call her Mama Torres. With her bright red lipstick, tight black curls piled high in a bun, and colorful jewelry layered over her work uniform, she was far different from Rosie's own mom, but Mama Torres felt like a second mother.

Of course, she didn't know Rosie was dating her daughter.

Rosie attempted to take her favorite seat in the restaurant, the little booth in the corner. Most customers avoided it because it was right near the kitchen and they hated the constant clanging and sizzling, but Rosie sat there for exactly that reason. Brie would pass by as she shuffled chips and salsa from kitchen to table, and stop to chat as Rosie worked on homework. Today Rosie was actually excited to chug through her research paper and science lab reports in the cozy corner.

But as she moved to her favorite booth that Saturday morning, Mama Torres grabbed her arm. "No, no, Rosie, I have a new idea." Her grip was strong and callused, so unlike Brie's. "You've been coming by so often and you've been such a good friend to Brie. So I talked to my husband and he agreed: we're offering you a job!"

"A job?" Rosie couldn't believe it. "Wow...uh...thanks!"

"You can start right now! I have to run to the store, so Abuela could use some help at the register." Rosie glanced at the front desk, where Brie's grandma's white tufts of hair stood out against the mahogany table.

"Hi, Abuela." Rosie smiled as she walked up to the register.

"Hola, Rosie!" She lowered her voice. "I was so happy when my daughter in law told me she offered you the job. You should have seen Brie. She was-- what's the expression-- off the roof?"

"Over the moon?" Rosie offered.

Abuela snapped her fingers. "Over the moon, there we go!"

With loving care, Abuela showed Rosie where the menus were and how to mark on the seating diagram if a table was taken. It wasn't difficult and Rosie was able to mark the correct table after a few tries. Abuela was impressed. "It's like you're part of the family already!" Rosie stared down at the register to hide her growing smile.

Abuela got the fun part of greeting customers and taking them to their seats while Rosie was stuck at an empty table, folding forks into napkins. Why did Las Buenas Migas have so many napkins?

Rosie supposed she should feel lucky to have been offered a job at all. Brie's restaurant was a family business after all. As far as Rosie could tell, Brie's dad and brother did all the cooking in the back, Brie and her sister were the waitresses, and Mama Torres was the manager. That's how it had always been. Tradition.