Evenings at the Argentine Club (9 page)

He crouched down to dip his brush in the paint can. He smiled up at her, letting his eyes, the color of warm golden oak, first travel up her legs. “You’re a little overdressed today. Trying to impress me?”

“I went out to lunch with some friends.” He wore a pair of worn shorts and a sleeveless T-shirt that made him look more gorgeous than he had at the Independence Day party, where he’d been properly dressed.

He rose to his feet. “Well, I am flattered that you cut your lunch short to see me. You must be feeling guilty about something.” He turned away so she didn’t catch his expression.

“I have nothing to feel guilty about,” she said, though she felt guilty as hell.

He brushed the shutter and grinned, offering a small wink. “You’re right. So don’t worry about my eye. I’ve been punched before. Wasn’t your fault. I was just pissed when I implied it was—sorry.”

She nodded. He seemed sincere. “Since you’re the star of this celebration, shouldn’t you be inside with the old folks?”

“I’ve been fawned over enough for one day. So I left our dads in front of the TV in the living room and our moms in the kitchen cleaning up from lunch. I snuck out to spend some time in the sunshine.”

Again, she noticed his great tan. He must spend a lot of time out in the sunshine. It looked good on him. “Getting tired of all the attention already?”

“My mom is driving me crazy. And your mom has pointed out how much stronger I look, how nice I trim my hair, how wonderful
I dress—before I changed into this—and how deep my voice has gotten.” He shook his head. “I feel like a specimen in a science
lab.”

Victoria laughed.

“And your dad hasn’t stopped asking me questions about my work since the second I told him I deal in real estate.” He dipped
the brush in paint again.

Victoria felt her back tighten at the mention of her father and business. “Real estate? What do you do?”

“Not you, too?”

“Sorry. I should leave you alone to finish painting.”

“No, have a seat.” He pointed to a bench on the porch. “I’ll be done soon.”

“I should let my mom know I’m here.”

“Later. Unless you’re hungry and want to go in for a bite.” “No.” Well, yes, she
was
hungry, but she had to work on that willpower, and no way would she admit to him that she wanted to eat again after telling
him she’d come from eating lunch.

“Good, then stay with me a bit.” He brushed across the slats of the shutters quickly and expertly.

“Okay.” She sat on the bench like he suggested, because being on her feet in her current shoes was akin to torture. “What
should we talk about if you don’t want to tell me what you do in the real-estate world?”

“You.”

She blushed. “Nothing much to tell. Besides, you seemed to know a lot about what I’ve been doing the other night when you
made your grand reappearance.”

“Why do you say that?” He worked his way down the shutter.

“You knew I still lived with my parents. And that I wasn’t married.”

“Oh, that.” His expression gave nothing away. “My mom keeps me up-to-date on things when I call her every week. Usually she
uses you as an example of what good Argentine kids do. Stay home. Take care of their parents.” He smiled. “I had to take the
first opportunity I got to tell you you’re making the rest of us look bad.”

Victoria crossed her tired legs, then uncrossed them again when her thigh muscles stretched and reminded her of how angry
they were at her. “You’re the only bad boy, Eric. The rest of us are doing what’s expected. Susana is married with children.
Adrian is a practicing psychologist. Eduardo runs his father’s body shop. Ana teaches elementary school.”

“And you, sweet Victoria? Continue to fill in at the grill and run errands for your father like you always have?”

“Actually, I’ll be taking over the restaurant soon.” Admitting that she was doing pretty much the same thing she’d done the
last time he’d seen her was beyond humiliating.

Eric raised an eyebrow. “He’s retiring?”

“No.” She wasn’t free to discuss any of it yet, so she tried to change the subject. “Now back to you. What do you do?”

“Never mind. Tell me about taking over the restaurant. I didn’t think you had any interest in that.”

“I don’t. But it’s a job.”

“There are lots of jobs. Didn’t you want to be an interior designer once?”

So he remembered her grand plans. One rainy weekend in particular came to mind, when their parents had gotten together. Carmen
sat on the phone talking to her friends for hours, then actually did homework. She and Eric settled in his room, their shoes
off, radio on. He playing video games and she drawing new interiors for his room. “How about this?” she’d say, interrupting
his game. “I’m not changing my room,” he’d said over and over again to each of her new designs. He barely looked at what she’d
done, keeping his eyes on the TV screen. They’d been, what? Fifteen.

She watched him now give a final stroke of the brush to his mother’s shutters and wondered what he thought of the way she’d
redecorated his old room. “I do that for fun,” she said. “I helped your mom decorate her place.”

“She told me. You did a great job.”

“Thanks.” Neither one of them mentioned his room. She’d found all her old designs packed away in his closet and left them
where she’d found them. Instead of using any of those teen sketches, she painted his room in a nice, neutral taupe, exchanged
his twin bed for a mature double with dark, masculine bedspreads instead of the sports quilt. Only one wall highlighted his
childhood and provided evidence that this had been his personal space. A display case held his trophies, rock collections,
model cars, airplanes, and houses. And a collection of pictures of Eric from baby to young man were framed in various sizes
and hung on the wall beside the display case. Lucia had cried and told her again and again that she loved it, even though
she’d been hesitant to let her touch his room at the beginning.

He watched her as he took his paintbrush over to the hose and ran water through it, droplets spraying in all directions. “I
know your dad’s not retiring. He told me about his business plans.”

Victoria found that hard to believe. Why would he tell Eric of all people about something he was being so secretive about?

“He asked me if I’d be interested in finding good, cheap commercial property for him. Scouting out good locations for his
expansions.”

Victoria listened and frowned. “Why you?”

“Well I asked myself that, too, especially because I have a feeling he thinks I’m a major fuckup. But I guess my dad convinced
him that I do know what I’m doing.”

“Which is?”

“I’m a real-estate investor. I buy houses, fix them up, and resell them at a profit. Apparently your dad figured I would know
where to find what he’s looking for.”

Victoria nodded. “Would you?”

“Possibly. But I turned him down.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “I work for myself.”

That was a typical, self-centered Eric response. “I see.”

“I suggested he use you, but he wasn’t thrilled with that idea. Didn’t think it would be something you could do.”

“He’s right. I don’t know where he should open new restaurants,” she said, though it stung to hear that her father had told
Eric that he lacked confidence in her abilities. “In fact, all this is very new to me. I just learned of his plans recently,
and I’m not sure how I feel about it.”

He dried his hands on a towel he’d hung on the porch rail and walked around the porch. “You weren’t in on the planning stage?”

Seen through his eyes, she realized how it must look. She didn’t know what was going on in the family business. He must think
she was either an idiot or self-absorbed to the point that she didn’t care what went on, or what was closer to the truth—her
father didn’t think enough of her to let her in on the daily running of the business until now. “I found his paperwork in
the back office, and he explained what he was doing when I questioned him. I’m sort of worried about this huge venture, to
tell you the truth.”

“Why?”

“Well.” She wondered how much to say. But Eric was a businessman so maybe he could put her worries to rest. “He’s emptied
his entire savings, borrowed money against his restaurant, our house… It’s a little… scary.”

“It’s risky.” He took a seat beside her, using the towel to wipe perspiration from his face. “Something I would expect from
my dad, but not yours.”

Wonderful. Just what she wanted to hear. “I want to believe he knows what he’s doing.” Then, feeling unfaithful, she amended.
“I’m sure he does.”

Eric didn’t comment.

“He’s always wanted to make millions and go back to Argentina a success.” Victoria smiled at how many times she’d heard her
father’s dream. And Jaqueline always remind him that they had to be practical. “He’s always talked about it, but I never expected
him to actually do it, I guess.”

“Victoria, every Argentine guy I’ve ever known has wild ideas of making millions and returning to Argentina a big shot. My
dad was the same.”

“Yeah. I guess I just thought he’d gotten over all that.”

“Where does all this leave you?”

“Putting in more time at the restaurant, I suppose.”

“Don’t trust that your parents are always going to take care of you, Victoria. Especially if your father has gotten a wild
hair up his ass about striking it rich.”

“I don’t.” And she resented that he assumed she was nothing but a mooch living off her parents. They
wanted
her to live at home. Her father expected her to help out with the family business. It wasn’t like she had a choice.

“What if the restaurant you think you’re going to run ends up having to close down? Then what will you do?”

Be free
, she thought, then chased the thought away. “My father is not going to fail.”

Eric leaned back and shook his head. “That’s what he tells me.”

Victoria stared out at the trees swaying in the warm afternoon breeze. She could hear traffic driving down neighboring streets,
but this block was quiet. A perfect summer weekend, but her life didn’t feel so perfect. She’d expected Eric to tell her that
she was being silly for worrying, that her father was a genius, that his plan was brilliant, and instead he was giving her
more to worry about. And now she was defending her father, when a moment ago she was telling Eric she had doubts.
He must think I’m a psycho
, she thought. She glanced back at him; he was watching her with a gentle look of concern.

But he quickly hid it as he stretched his arms up in the air and stood. “I better get this mess cleaned up.” He wrapped the
cord around the pressure washer, clamped it under his arm, and picked up the can of paint. “Be right back.” He disappeared
into the garage.

Victoria stood, then bent and picked up the brush he’d been using. She walked around the porch to the garage on the side of
the house. She peeked inside. “Here’s your brush.”

He smiled and took it. “Thanks.” He pointed to the crooked shelves that held household cleaners, rolls of paper towels, and
bags of rags. “I organized all this for my parents when I was a kid. I remember putting those up. My mom used to let me keep
my model-building tools up there. And the various bugs and lizards I’d caught in jars.” He chuckled. “I thought she was so
cool to let me take charge of the garage. She probably did it so I wouldn’t bring all my junk into the house. Boys collect
a lot of junk.”

Victoria leaned on a cool, white washing machine and smiled as she listened to him reminisce. Something warm touched her heart,
and she could almost picture him the way he used to look. She thought of all the times she’d heard people say how cold and
uncaring Eric had been to leave his family behind so easily. But something told her that maybe it hadn’t been so easy after
all.

He shrugged and offered a crooked smile. “Strange how some places can take you back in time.”

“Strange and sort of wonderful,” she said softly.

He nodded. Then he leaned on the washer next to her and crossed his arms. “I’m sorry if I was out of line out there. I tend
to look at all the negatives and see the pitfalls of a project way more than most people, I guess. I know the kind of trouble
you can get into by rushing into a deal.”

“My father hasn’t rushed into this.” But was he prepared to operate a business that would grow as rapidly as he planned? And
would other restaurants that he didn’t personally run do as well as the original?

“Got it,” he said, then he unfolded his arms and held out a hand. “Friends?”

She took his warm, slightly callused hand. “Only if you promise to say good-bye the next time you leave town.”

Eric ran his thumb across her knuckles before he let her hand slip out of his. “I promise.”

L
ucia peeked out of the kitchen window. “I don’t see them out there anymore.” She let the curtain fall. “You know men will
do anything for love. And Victoria would be perfect for him.”

Jaqueline wasn’t so sure that Eric was perfect for Victoria. Of course, her daughter was getting older, and though she was
pretty enough, she was overweight—and men usually didn’t like that. Plus, she was too unpredictable for most men. One day
she cooed over babies at the Argentine Club, and the next she was lost in her own world listening to that iPod with who knew
what kind of crazy music. Then again, maybe Eric
could
be the man for her. If anyone should understand unpredictability, it should be him.