Evenings at the Argentine Club (5 page)

“Just like that?” Antonio asked, as if waiting for more. Waiting for Eric to get down on his knees and say he’d been wrong.
And he
had
been wrong about some things. Not about his career choice, but in turning his back completely on his old life—on his parents.

“Everything I own is in the back of my pickup, so yeah, just like that.”

“We’re happy to see you, and glad you’re home,” Lucia quickly added. “What your father is trying to say is, why couldn’t you
have called us or let us know you were coming? To show up at the club like that without warning made us look like…”

“Fools,” Antonio said.

If they were waiting for something earth-shattering, Eric didn’t have it. He’d simply begun to feel like he was closing one
deal after another, collecting money in a bank account that meant little to him, and feeling very little satisfaction from
life. All the women, all the great dinners, all the alcohol in the world, didn’t fill the void that had begun to grow in his
heart the past year or two. It was simply time to come home. At least for a while. Since he lived in whatever property he
was renovating, he didn’t have a permanent home to worry about. No wife, no children. Nothing to prevent him from going wherever
he pleased. “I should have called,” he said. “But I didn’t really have a plan. I just started driving, and I before I knew
it I was home.”

Lucia reached across and caressed his face. “Doesn’t matter. We’re just glad you’re here where you belong.”

Antonio nodded, a question still in his gaze.

Victor always liked to get to the restaurant early. After his morning café and newspaper, he usually left home. Mostly because
Jaqueline interrupted his morning routine at least a dozen times with questions or gossip of one sort or another. He tried
to be patient and listen, like this morning when all she could talk about was the Ortelli boy coming home. Victor didn’t understand
what the big deal was. Eric had always been a wild little boy, spoiled by Lucia. Then everyone was surprised when the kid
just up and left. Victor hadn’t been surprised. In many ways, Eric was like his father, Antonio. Victor liked Antonio, but
the man was always involved in some crazy scheme or another. And Eric had turned out the same. When he mentioned his thoughts
to his wife, Jaqueline turned a horrified gape at him.

“They’re our friends. How can you say that?”

“Because it’s true.”

“You know how much Lucia has suffered, losing Eric.”

Her words brought back memories of what his sister had said to him whenever he would call Argentina, referring to their own
mother. He frowned. “She didn’t lose him. He’s back.” And maybe part of the reason the boy left
was
his mother. A man has to be allowed to grow up. He can’t be coddled forever.

“Yes, but for how long will he stay?”

Victor stood and folded his newspaper, since she wasn’t going to let him read it anyway. “I guess we’ll see. I’ve got to go.”

Jaqueline looked disappointed, but she never voiced her feelings. She would never dream of complaining, even though he’d guessed
that she was unhappy. He didn’t know how to please her anymore, and this bothered him. He worked hard—always had. He was putting
Carmen through college. Always made sure Victoria and Jaqueline had whatever they wanted. He spent Sundays at the club with
their friends. What else was a man to do?

Victoria strolled into the kitchen, yawning. “Morning,” she said. “Carmen called and woke me up this morning. Says she loves
you.”

Jaqueline placed a cup of café con leche on the table, and a plate of French bread, then she slid the butter and dulce de
leche across the table. “Did you tell her I’m still angry that she chose to spend most of her summer break in Philadelphia
rather than come home?”

Victoria took a seat. “Just coffee this morning, Mami. And you tell her you’re angry every time you talk to her. Maybe you
should stop being angry and tell her how proud you are of her. She got a 4.0 last year again. Do you know how hard that is
to do with the type of classes she takes?”

Surprised, Jaqueline placed a hand on her hip. “I tell her I’m proud all the time. But why can’t she come home when she has
a break?”

“She got a part-time job and wanted to stay close to school. Every summer she comes home. Maybe she wanted to enjoy the city
this time.”

Jaqueline shook her head, not accepting the absence of her baby. Victor understood how she felt. He missed Carmen, too, but
he kept his feelings to himself. He pushed in his chair as the conversation between Jaqueline and Victoria continued.

“Why don’t you want some bread? Coffee is not enough to keep you going all morning.”

“I need to lose some weight. You’re always telling me I’m too fat.”

“I don’t say that.”

“Your mother never called you fat,” Victor said, taking his last sip of coffee while standing beside the table.

“You both call me
gordita
all the time. What are you talking about?”

“That’s an endearment,” Victor explained.

“If I were your pet pig that would be endearing.”

Jaqueline lifted her hands up into the air. “Fine. Losing some weight would be good for you. Right, Victor?”

“If she wants.” He pulled his car keys out of his pocket, gave Jaqueline a quick kiss, and turned to Victoria. “I have the
Lewis wedding party next weekend. Are you coming in to make sure all last-minute things are taken care of?”

“I’ve got it under control.”

“Don’t say that. That tells me nothing. Are you coming in or not?”

“Sure, Dad. I’ll come in.”

“Okay. See you later.” He hurried to work, where he felt the most comfortable these days.

Victoria worked part-time at a neighborhood boutique owned by her friend and ex-art history teacher, Douglas. Not only did
it give her something to do, but it also allowed her to indulge her creativity, and she loved it. Between the work she did
at the boutique and helping her father at La Parrilla, it kept her busy and provided some spending money. Sadly, she wondered
if she’d have to give it up as her father piled more responsibilities onto her.

Most women her age probably wouldn’t be content living at home, having jobs that led nowhere, not having a husband or even
a boyfriend, but Victoria was content. Not thrilled with her life, true, and Eric’s little digs about her still being at home
bothered her more than she cared to admit. Because it wasn’t only the fact that she lived at home. It was the entire package.
He was obviously successful at whatever he did. He had gone out into the world and started living. She, on the other hand,
had done nothing with her life. Ten years had passed since high school and she was in the exact same place.

She helped Douglas arrange a window display. Douglas had been a teacher for thirty-five years. His life had been going pretty
well. Then his wife got cancer and died, and he decided to quit his job and open the boutique they’d always talked about.
He was in his fifties now and seemed, like her, content.

Placing a mirror strategically to reflect the display of books and flowers on the antique table, Victoria caught sight of
herself. She looked terrible.

“Augh, I need to lose weight before our high school reunion,” she said. She was proud of herself for skipping breakfast.

Douglas glanced at her. “Must be hard with all that great food your family makes.”

“Yeah,” she said.

“You sound depressed.”

“Do you think I’m a loser, Douglas?”

He frowned. “Loser? Why would you say that?”

“I don’t know. I should be doing something with my life.”

“What do you want to do?”

She picked up a gorgeous vintage phone from the 1920s, and placed it gently on the table. “I don’t know.”

“Maybe you are doing what you want to do.”

She glanced at him. “Sort of.” She looked in the mirror again and didn’t see anything appealing. “I want to lose weight. I
feel like shit most of the time.”

He handed her a basket of dried flowers. “Then you should.”

She nodded and smiled. “I think I will.”

Now that he was home, Eric couldn’t say he had a plan. He didn’t. All he knew was that his life lacked a sense of purpose.
He’d lived the last twenty-eight years of his life for no one but himself. And he’d had a great time, no doubt about it. But
something was missing. He wasn’t sure what. The crazy thing was that it felt like whatever was missing was something inside
himself. Not things. Not experiences—he’d had plenty of those.

So he sat in the living room, wondering what the hell to do now that he was home. He opened his laptop on the coffee table
and visited the home auction site he commonly used to find investment properties. That was the only thing he knew how to do,
so why not do it? He punched in a few of the nearby zip codes. A list of houses popped up on the screen. He scanned through
the information, then leaned back on the sofa and lazily turned over the information in his head to see if any of them could
be a good deal. California real estate was tricky, and he’d avoided it for good reason. Prices had been overinflated for years,
and though people were able to make a profit, you had to be lucky to find the right house in the right neighborhood. However,
the market had dropped in the past year. A good thing for an investor who wanted to buy cheap, unless the home continued to
drop before you could unload it. Eric debated whether it was a risk he wanted to take.

“Hey,” Antonio placed a hand on his shoulder. “What are you doing?”

Eric angled his head back. “A little work. Nothing important.”

Antonio sat beside him. “I didn’t know you’d be working while in town.”

He shrugged. “I’m always looking for the next great deal.”

Antonio stared at the computer screen. “Foreclosures?”

“Yep. It’s the way to go these days.”

“These are in our area?”

“I was curious what the market was like around here.”

Antonio sat back and studied him the way he had when Eric was a boy. “Why?”

“That way I can stick around for a while if I find something good.”

“You thinking of staying for more than a while? Working closer to home?”

Eric wasn’t ready to commit to something like that. “California hasn’t been an easy real estate market. We’ll see if things
are changing.” He pointed to the screen. “These are going to be auctioned next week.”

Antonio’s interest was sparked. “Oh yeah? So what do you do? How do you choose one?”

“I do a quick inspection of the properties. If I like what I see, if I think I can do a quick fix on one and put it back on
the market in a fair amount of time, I go to the auction and bid on it.”

“That’s it, huh?” Antonio laughed and rubbed his chin. “Now why didn’t I find a moneymaker like this when I was younger?”

Eric couldn’t help feeling a tinge of irritation at Antonio’s downplaying the skill and work involved to actually be able
to make money. “It’s not as easy as I’m making it sound.”

“You’ve done well. Haven’t you?”

The question asked more than what it seemed. Had he made the right career choice? Had he been correct to follow his passion
and not his father’s plans of advanced degrees that led to a plush legal office in which to hang and show off those degrees?
“I have, but it hasn’t been easy,” he said honestly.

Antonio lifted his chin and almost seemed happy that Eric’s road to independence hadn’t been effortless. Eric felt the
I told you so
phrase hovering between them. Not spoken, but thought. “Easy or not, you’ve got the life,
Pibe
. Gamble on property here and there. Do a little traveling, a little work, and cash in big-time when you’re done.”

Even though his father hadn’t wanted this kind of life for Eric,
he
had always been interested in any and all ventures that involved speculation. Except that for Eric, there was no speculation.
He didn’t make the kind of money he made by taking stupid risks. Where Antonio had been impulsive and gullible, Eric had always
carefully weighed each business deal. Where Antonio had been easy prey for crazy get-rich schemes, being a foreigner who believed
in the impossible American dream, Eric was fully aware that the world was full of scams and trusted only his own intuition
and solid, legitimate real-estate ventures.

Yes, sadly, his father believed every guy with a promise of gold at the end of the rainbow. Eric blamed his ignorance on the
fact that he wasn’t raised in this country. He was an easy target to suck in and fool. But Antonio was wrong about Eric—he
was no gambler. And he was eager to show his father that even though he might not have become a well-dressed lawyer, he was
every bit as successful doing what he loved.

Maybe if Antonio saw Eric running his business, he would understand. “Want to go with me to the auction?”

Antonio put a hand on Eric’s shoulder. “I’d love to,” he said.

Those three words meant more to Eric than Antonio could ever guess. Acceptance. In a minor way, maybe, but for a father who
once told him that he had become the biggest disappointment of his life, this was huge. With a lump in his throat, Eric said,
“Then I’d better go check out these houses and see what they look like.”

All homes prior to auction were open to inspection, and Eric never bought a house he hadn’t thoroughly checked out. That was
also the way he lived his life. Looking at things from every angle. He hoped that for the first time he wasn’t thinking with
his emotions rather than his intellect. California real estate could be his downfall. As could being home again. But he had
to give it a try. Living the life of a wanderer, with no roots, no connection to anyone, was slowly eating at his soul. And
he feared that if he didn’t attempt to make a change now, there would be nothing left of him soon.