Evenings at the Argentine Club (4 page)

Saving face. Such an Argentine trait. Too proud to say, “My son’s a jerk.” All around them people were doing the same kind of whispering as Victoria and Jaqueline.

“Let’s go say hello and welcome him home,” her mother continued, grabbing Victoria by the elbow.

Victoria frowned. “No, give them some privacy.”

“It would be rude not to say something. Vamos.”

Jaqueline pulled Victoria’s arm and led her to the Ortelli table. “Eric, querido, what an amazing surprise,” Jaqueline said, and hugged him.

Eric stood for the hundredth time and opened his arms to Jaqueline, dropping a kiss on her cheek. Then without pausing he said hi and kissed Victoria. Then he took his seat again.

Victoria checked him out. He’d grown thicker, more muscular, more solid. Still just as handsome as he’d been in high school. He sipped his wine with a relaxed arrogance that didn’t seem quite proper, considering the commotion he’d caused.

“How have you been, Victoria?” Again, the question was one that would make sense if he’d been away a few months, maybe a year. But for someone who’d disappeared seven years ago, his attitude seemed too casual.

“Where should I start?” she said.

He chuckled. “Wherever you’d like. Have a seat. Do you mind, Mami?”

Now he was asking if his mother minded what he did?

“No, but you eat. Your food is getting cold.”

“I’m not hungry.” He eased the plate away. “I didn’t come to eat, anyway. I actually went home, and when no one was thereI remembered it was Sunday and figured you’d be here.”

“It’s not only Sunday,” Victoria said. “It’s Independence Day.”

He frowned. “Oh, in Argentina. That’s right.” He glanced around. “No wonder all this.”

No one said anything in response. To forget July 9 was too big an insult to comment on.

“I was actually just leaving,” Victoria said. “So enjoy your dinner.”

Jaqueline gave her a scowl. “You can stay a little longer. Talk to Eric for a while.”

“We shouldn’t intrude,” Victoria said.

Antonio Ortelli, who had walked in from the grills with a surprised look on his face, had hugged his son, then sat to let his wife handle all the questions. Now he stood. “We have time to catch up when we get home.” He patted Eric on the shoulder. “Let’s continue to enjoy the celebration.”

“Of course,” Lucia said, and though she didn’t appear to want to let Eric out of her sight for a second, she also stood. “I’m going to go finish up in the kitchen and let you get reacquainted with your friends. Your father’s right, we’ll have you all to ourselves later. There’s plenty of time.”

Eric squeezed her fingers with his large, dark hands. The guy had a spectacular tan the color of dark, golden honey.

“All the time in the world,” he said, before his mother and Jaqueline returned to the kitchen. Lucia looked back at him twice as if she were afraid he’d disappear.

Faced with making casual conversation with a man she didn’t know anymore, Victoria took a seat across from him and tried to remember who he had been when they’d last spoken. Fun came to mind. Mama’s boy. Cheerful. He didn’t look like any of those things anymore. He looked harder.

He sipped from his glass of wine with lips that could possibly also be hard, but right now they looked shiny and sexy surrounded by the five o’clock shadow on his face. “This place never changes.”

“Some things never do.” Nor do some people. Namely, her. He, on the other hand, was almost unrecognizable.

His light brown eyes rested on her face after doing a very quick, barely noticeable scan of her body. “Remember when we used to sneak up to the offices on the second floor and pretend to look for clues that this was a secret organization involved in some kind of plot to take over the world?”

She wanted to smile at the memories of their childhood games. They’d had so much fun. She and Eric and Susana and a handful of other kids who were now all grown and married. Except for her. And maybe Eric. After high school they’d all stopped being friends. And he’d disappeared. Maybe that was why she wouldn’t allow herself to enjoy reminiscing with him.

“I don’t think we knew what we were looking for,” he continued. “Or even why our parents would want to take over the world.”

“Maybe we just wanted to have fun.”

“Yeah, or maybe we wanted to believe they were more than just lonely immigrants longing for a piece of their homeland.”

The way he said that, with such derision, irritated her. But a part of Victoria wondered if that was true. Kids always thought their parents were all-powerful and important. But had she ever wished they were more than what they were? No. “Is that why you finally came home? Longing for everything you walked away from?”

He took another sip of wine, but kept his gaze on her, probably wondering how she’d had the nerve to ask him directly what everyone was wondering. “Maybe.”

“Well, it’s about time. Do you know how much your mother has suffered? Because I do. I’ve been here the entire time to watch her cry on my mom’s shoulder. And age way quicker than she should have.”

He clenched his jaw and stared at her coldly. “That’s the way the world works, Victoria. Children grow up, move out, go on with their lives. You apparently haven’t learned that yet.”

Anger made its way up her body from her stomach and warmed her face. “I value my family. I know the meaning of the word
loyalty,
and I respect my parents for everything they have sacrificed for me.”

“How very Argentine of you,” he said, obviously not meaning it as a compliment. Then he grinned, making those old dimples pop up. “And very admirable. With those honorable values and being damned cute to boot, I can’t believe you’re not married yet.”

The personal nature of his comment was inappropriate, like everything else about him. “And what values do you hold dear? Let me guess: freedom and wealth?”

His grin dwindled. “Man, Victoria, I never thought you’d turn into one of them.” He gestured to the others in the club. “How did you let that happen?” he asked with obvious disappointment. “You need to loosen up.”

“Who are you to tell me how—?”

“Who are you to tell
me?
” He lifted an eyebrow.

“No one,” she admitted.

“That’s not entirely true. We were pretty good friends once.”

“Not as good as I thought.” They’d played together at the club and sometimes at each other’s houses when their parents visited one another. And as teens they’d sat together and watched movies or listened to music. And they’d talked about so many things. But he never once mentioned leaving home. She had. She’d been the one with dreams. She wondered if he remembered that.

More curious people stopped by the table, interrupting them to welcome Eric home. But she didn’t mind. It gave her a perfect excuse to leave. She stood and said good-bye. Eric stood as well, took her hand, and pulled her toward him for another kiss on the cheek. “It really is good to see you again.”

She couldn’t say what was really on her mind with others listening to them. “Welcome home, Eric,” she said instead, and left feeling depressed.

She didn’t know why the arrival of a family friend’s son should have that kind of effect on her. Maybe it was a combination of that and finding out about her father’s restaurant expansion plans that had her emotions so low. Maybe it was the realization that everyone seemed to be living the life they wanted except her. Maybe it was the realization that she didn’t have the slightest idea what it was she wanted out of life anymore, and that the last time she’d thought about it had been in high school.

V
ictoria woke up to her cell phone playing her sister’s favorite tune—“Irreplaceable” by Beyoncé—and groaned, burrowing further
under her soft, cozy blankets. Why couldn’t Carmen ever remember that it was three hours earlier in California? The phone
stopped, then the happy tune started again. She tossed the covers off her head, reached for the nightstand, and clicked her
phone on. “What?”

“Sounds like someone partied a little too long last night.”

“And now I’m trying to sleep.” Victoria rolled onto her back and hung an arm over her forehead, shielding her eyes from the
sunshine coming through the window shades.

“Sorry, but it was call now or not at all, because I’m meeting a friend in ten minutes. We’re going to amuse ourselves walking
seeing-eye dogs before class. Crazy, I know, but it’s her idea, and I thought I’d go along with it. Gets me outside, in the
fresh air, some exercise, you know. And the dogs are so cute, they—”

“Carmen,” Victoria moaned. “You woke me and you’re rambling about some stupid dogs. I don’t really care.”

“Sorry. Okay, tell me what you wanted to tell me last night. Fast.”

If her eyelids weren’t feeling like itty, bitty, flat weights preventing her from opening her eyes, she’d roll them. Last
night, she had decided not to tell Carmen about Dad’s new restaurants yet. And now wasn’t the right time, either. She blinked
at the clock and saw that it was nine thirty, so she pushed herself up in bed and rested her back on the headboard. “Well,
you’ll never guess who showed up at the club last night.”

“Beyoncé?” She laughed.

Victoria ignored her way-too-peppy personality. “Eric Ortelli.”

“Get out!”

“Yep, he just strolled right into the club and made himself at home. Could have given Lucia a heart attack, the jerk.”

“What did she do?”

“Hugged him and told everyone she was expecting him.”

“Wow. Well, what does he look like?”

Victoria shrugged. “Great, like always. Amazing, really.”

“He always was a cutie. Okay, I gotta go. Give him a kiss for me, and call me soon. You’ve got to get me through this last
year of college. I’m so not loving it.”

“Just finish. You have to.”

“I know. Love you, sis.”

“Love you, too.” Victoria turned her cell off and headed to the shower.

Eric took a seat at the breakfast table because his mother insisted he do so the instant he walked into the kitchen. Lucia
bounded out of her seat and headed for the coffee carafe.

“Morning,” Antonio said.

“Good morning.” Eric glanced around the familiar kitchen. Unlike the changes to the interior of the rest of the house, the
kitchen remained the same. Same cabinets, same paint job, even the same appliances that had been here when he was a kid.

His mother, already neatly dressed and as efficient as always, placed the steaming coffee cup in front of him. “Sugar?” She
held the sugar bowl and a spoon above his cup.

“Oh, ah, no. Thanks, Mom.”

“Cream?”

“Black is good.” He smiled somewhat awkwardly as she hovered over him.

She ran her fingers through his hair. “I’ll get you some bread.”

And she did. She cut fresh French bread for him as if he were a child incapable of doing it himself. Then she offered him
orange marmalade, or dulce de leche, and practically spread it on his bread.

He stared down at the plate, bread loaded with dulce de leche. His mouth watered. He hadn’t had the sweet caramel spread in
so long.

“Did you want something different? Maybe you’re used to eating a full American breakfast instead.”

“This is fine, Mami, really.”

He’d lived alone for so long that the thick attention and the somersaults she was performing in an attempt to please him felt
a little uncomfortable. Meanwhile, his father sat silently drinking his coffee, not saying much, like always. It had taken
Antonio almost an entire year to talk to him again when he’d left home. Their fight over Eric’s future had been bitter, with
angry words shouted back and forth. Antonio had predicted he’d come home with his tail between his legs and beg to be taken
back in. That had caused Eric to stubbornly stay away just to prove his father wrong. There had been times when Eric had considered
swallowing his pride and going home. But he hadn’t. Couldn’t.

“Sit down, Mom, please. If I need anything else, I can get it myself.”

“But I haven’t had the pleasure of doing anything for you in so long. To give you a decent breakfast is the least I can do.”

“You have. Now, please, if you want to do something for me, sit down. Talk to me.”

“Well.” Lucia considered that. “Okay.”

“The house looks great,” Eric said. “You’ve redecorated.” Although he spoke to his mother on the phone often enough, now that
he was face-to-face with her, he didn’t know what to say.

“Victoria helped me. She said it looked too
Three’s Company
before. I guess that meant our things were outdated.”

Eric chuckled. “I guess so. Well, she has good taste. I like it.”

Antonio grunted. “So are you going to tell us what you’re doing home?”

“Viejo,” Lucia scolded.

“What? He shows up out of the blue. Don’t I have a right to ask?”

Eric took a bite of bread and chewed as he watched his father. The battle was still there. He sensed it as if it were something
physical pushing between them. Nudging, poking, irritating like a burr on the inside of a sock.
Who had been right? Who was the better man?
He shrugged. Older and hopefully wiser, he was willing to allow his father the power he deserved. He no longer had anything
to prove. “You’re always asking me to come home, so I finished my last deal and decided it was time.”