A Warm Kitchen on a Winter Day

Prologue

Katherine's mother, Rosa Ramos, keyed the piano softly as the melody to Frank Sinatra's My Way drifted and hung in the air, joining the rhythmic ticking of a grandfather clock and the rich smell of Filipino food. Katherine sat woodenly at the beginning of a row of folding chairs, staring at her little black shoes and uncomfortable white dress, uneasy with the tension-filled room. Next came Katherine's elder sisters—Maria and Anna—both equally ill at ease with the collective anxiety. Tala, the girls' nanny, or yaya as she would be called in the family's native Philippines, slid her hand into Anna's, holding it reassuringly. Tita Pony and Tito Roddy, family friends and neighbors, sat next to Father Valencia, who straightened his clerical collar before smoothing his black pants to dry his nervous palms. Finally, Katherine's father, Emilio, sat by himself on a plush couch with his arms folded, head tilted forward, eyes closed, and mouth open, occasionally emitting a deep snore while the muted Knicks game flickered across his glasses like Times Square.

Headlights cut through the dusk wintery outdoors and flashed in the room, ending the stillness and causing the well-dressed patrons to exchange brief glances from their chairs. Soon after, footsteps clicked up the front porch steps of the three-story, white Victorian house in the tree-lined heart of Flushing Queens, New York, Rosa and Emilio's adopted home. A pause, then a rap, rap, rap from the black metallic knocker rang through the house.

Rosa opened her mouth but was interrupted by the rumble of a jetliner pulling away from LaGuardia Airport. After the screaming engine soared overhead, Rosa regained her composure and said, "She's here," before checking her hair and dress in the mirror one last time. "Katherine," she said, exhaling with slight irritation, "wake your dad." Katherine ran to wake a briefly confused Emilio, who turned off the television.

Rosa walked to the door—stopped and turned to look at the long dining room table covered with an elaborate red and green tablecloth, bowls of Filipino food, place settings, wine glasses, and flowers—smiled at her accomplishment, then opened the door. Standing on the other side was a middle-aged Filipina with short hair, wearing a traditional-but-stately light pink dress under her fur coat. Rosa had seen her many times on television or in newspapers but seeing her in-person for the first time must have been surreal. "Merry Christmas Eve," said Rosa.

"And a very Merry Christmas Eve to you," responded a smiling Imelda Marcos, the First Lady of the Philippines.

***

The early evening sky was clear but cold, so Rosa quickly invited the newly arrived guests inside, where a grinning Emilio gave pleasantries in-between eagerly snapping pictures with his oversized camera. Imelda began first by introducing the two people with her. "This is Lyka Mae Manuel, my 10-year-old niece. She has been the perfect travelling companion during my three-month diplomatic mission," Imelda stated proudly.

"We are finishing our travels in New York and will return home in a few days," Lyka said with a smile and slight nod. "Thank you for inviting us to your home for Christmas dinner."

"And of course," Imelda continued, "this is Chesa Atay de la Rosa Bautista, my travelling secretary. Though, as I understand it Rosa, you already know Chesa from being classmates at the university." Chesa was an overweight, middle-aged woman with a puffy face, bright red lipstick, and thick glasses, whom Rosa knew well but had not seen in the two decades since graduation. Rosa knew Chesa as Ate Baby. "Ate" is a Filipino reference to an older female relative or respected friend. And "Baby" is her nickname used by family and close friends; in this case, it signified that she was the youngest of nine siblings. Rosa gave Chesa a warm hug, thanking her for coming.

Rosa, now relaxing a bit, began introducing her family and guests. "This is Tala. She has lived with us since the girls were young and is a member of our family now," said Rosa of the big-hearted but diminutive-in-size yaya. "These are my three daughters. Katherine is my youngest and is also 10-years-old," she said looking at Lyka. Katherine, who was tall for her age, and especially tall for a Filipina, stood on even footing with her older sisters and was a good head taller than Lyka, making her feel more awkward than usual. "Maria just turned 12 and Anna will start high school next year."