Evenings at the Argentine Club (37 page)

She looked serious for a change. “Absolutely. I can do this. And I want to.”

“You wanted to follow a career in science, too.”

“No, I was good at science. It was fun. You and Mom decided I should make it my life. But, Dad, I want to make money. I want to be rich someday.”

“Doctors make good money.”

“And they’re stuck inside a clinic with sick people all the time. Not for me. I want to be around people who are happy, having a good time, eating a good meal. You’ve got the best job in the world.”

He’d never thought of it that way. “All right. You make the degree change and when you’re finished with college, we’ll start your training.”

She threw herself across the seats and wrapped her arms around him.

“Your mother is definitely going to divorce me now.”

“I won’t let her.” She pulled back and opened her car door. “Let’s go.”

Jaqueline welcomed her baby home, tears in her eyes as she hugged her for a good, long minute. Victor stood at the door, watching.

“Come in,” Jaqueline said to him, grabbing his arm.

He walked inside and closed the door. The three of them sat on the couch while Carmen talked about everything on her mind, jumping from one topic to another. Then she grew serious. “I need to tell you something, and you can’t freak out.”

“Okay,” Jaqueline said cautiously.

“This was my idea. My decision. And I begged Dad to consider it.”

She glanced at Victor who looked scared. That didn’t make her feel any better. Carmen went on, explaining how she planned to change her major and eventually move back home to help Victor in the restaurant business. That was the crux of what she was saying, but she danced around the idea for nearly fifteen minutes and took another ten minutes to explain how it would work.

When she was finished, she stared at Jaqueline. “What are you thinking?”

They both looked at her expectantly. Carmen was coming home. She couldn’t think of a better Christmas present. She pulled her forward for an embrace. “Whatever makes you happy, amorcito.”

*   *   *

In a suburb of Austin, Texas, Eric cruised the neighborhood, a list of repos in his hand. Pulling over, he killed the engine. He slid out from behind the wheel of the truck and crossed the yard, like he’d done millions of times in the past. The house was nice, didn’t seem to need much work. Someone probably overpaid for it and found they couldn’t handle the expense. He glanced at the sheet of paper listing the specs of the house. Three bedrooms, two baths, one story. Typical. The kind of house most families liked.

In the backyard, the previous owners had left a playground. He checked it out. It was in good condition. He sat on the swings, bummed, not finding a thrill in much of anything these days. He’d missed Christmas with his family, and he’d thought that it might be the first he’d actually spend with them in seven years. Now tomorrow would be New Year’s Day, and the only resolution he’d made was to wake up the next day.

He’d called the Realtor in California and told her to take the house off the market. He’d called his mother and apologized for leaving so abruptly. She hadn’t been very understanding this time around. She’d told him he was immature and unreasonable, and he owed Victoria an apology. He probably did. At first he’d been angry and just needed to get away. His ego had been bruised and he wanted to drift in his self-righteous anger. But once he reached Austin he crashed in a motel room, sleeping for almost two days, and he stopped being angry. And when he checked his voice-mail message, he almost turned right around and went back to her. But as he thought of how he would apologize and beg her to reconsider his marriage proposal, how he would do everything in his power to convince her that they’d be happy forever, he realized he couldn’t do that to her.

This was her moment. She was absolutely right. He was the one who’d encouraged her to do exactly what she was doing. Explore herself and all her possibilities. Leave the comforting security of the known for the unknown. He was proud of everything she’d accomplished in the last few months. He’d watched her grow and blossom, and his heart swelled with something much stronger than love. Respect. Real affection—he liked her and enjoyed her and wanted the best for her. He was completely devoted to her. And for that reason, he decided not to return home. Not to make her reconsider her decision. Not to appeal to her emotions.

He couldn’t explain any of this to his mother, of course. He told her he didn’t owe Victoria anything, and that he’d be back to wrap everything up once she was gone. She assumed he didn’t want to see her because he was hurt. But he didn’t want to see her because he knew himself, knew he would have a difficult time doing what was best for
her
when his heart was crying out to do what was best for
him.

He swayed gently on the swing. The outside air held a crisp chill and he shivered. He reached for his cell, turned it on. Most of the time he had it off now, because Victoria called three or four times a day. This time, he didn’t have any messages. He dialed his favorite contractor in Austin.

“Hey,” he said, when the guy answered. “Happy New Year to you, too. I think I might have a small job for you.” He glanced at the house. “Yeah, let’s meet in a couple of days.” He clicked the phone off and headed back to his truck.

Victoria flew to Seattle with a heavy heart. She hadn’t been able to reach Eric, and she couldn’t believe he’d been so unreasonable. She hadn’t declined his marriage proposal, after all, she’d just told him it wasn’t the right time. His anger was way over-blown, and she just didn’t get it.

But now she had to put her personal problems on the back burner. At least for the next few weeks.

Her company put her and her project partner, Karrie, up in a condo close to downtown. They met with the client the second week of January to clarify her vision of the new building they would be moving into at the end of the month. From there, she and Karrie worked from sunup to sundown locating the perfect art pieces for the walls, the right furniture for each office and lobby, and creating the ideal look in general.

Victoria had created the design for the washrooms almost on her own, so she put them together while Karrie worked on the larger offices. The men’s room had black walls, which she contrasted with shallow white porcelain bowl sinks that rested on a slatted blond wood stand. The faucet tabs set into the mirrors were simple. She was happy with the dramatic masculine effect of the room. For the women’s washroom she allowed herself a few more frills. Even though this was an office building, women appreciated a few luxuries. Limestone counters, wicker baskets to hold the paper towels, a couple of pots of dried leaf plants, candles, colors. Everything subdued but still pleasurable to the eye.

As the end of the month approached and the project took shape, both she and Karrie were pleased with the result. Their clients also seemed happy on their final walk-through. Victoria had loved working as a designer. Even with the constant Seattle rain and the pangs of loneliness she felt at times when she wished she could spend Sunday at the Argentine Club or having dinner at her parents’ place, she knew that at least careerwise, she’d found a home.

Eric put his contractor in charge as project manager of the Austin house he purchased. He hoped he could get it turned around in less than a month. Having worked with this crew before, he felt comfortable leaving it in their hands. He drove back to Burbank and settled in to the home he and Victoria had invested so much time in. She had left it in perfect condition, but it lacked life. The Christmas tree was gone. He spent his first day home dusting, vacuuming, polishing. Then he went to see his mom. Although Lucia was obviously still disappointed in him, she was happy to see him back home.

“So what are your plans now, Eric?”

He’d thought long and hard about what he wanted to do. “I’m moving back for good.”

His answer seemed to surprise her.

“This is home. With or without Victoria. She helped me see that.” He smiled. “Which is sort of ironic. But this is where I fit in. This is where my family is.

“I may have to travel every once in a while for certain projects, but I’m going to keep the house I have here. Pay it off. Pay my subs. And wait for Victoria to come home.”

She ran a hand through his hair. “I hope she decides to do what you’d like her to do, but there are other women, Eric.”

“Not for me.”

She kissed his forehead. “She was devastated when you left. She really was.”

“I needed time to get my head clear. And she needed time away from me.”

“I’m not sure I agree. But everything will work out.”

“I’m not worried,” he said. “And I’m not in a hurry. She’s doing the right thing, Mom.”

Lucia nodded. “Yes, she is. And I’m proud of you for seeing that. You’re a good man, hijo.”

He chuckled. “Thanks.”

“And I have to show you something.” She pulled out a bank statement. “The money you sent us month after month. It’s all here in this account, and it’s yours.”

Eric looked at the amount and widened his eyes in shock. “But this was for you and Dad. So you wouldn’t have to work so hard.”

“The first monies you sent, Antonio used to pay off some debt he didn’t want to talk about, but once that was paid, you kept sending money.”

“I know. I wanted you to have it.”

She shook her head. “No, my love, Antonio and I both agreed we didn’t want it. So, here. Use it for your wedding. For your first child?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

She leaned across the table and kissed him. “Aside from your father, you have been my greatest love. Do you know that?”

Tears touched his eyes despite the fact he tried not to let her get him all emotional. “Oh, hell,” he said, swallowing a lump in his throat. “Well, to be honest, Victoria isn’t the only reason I wanted to live close to home again.”

She smiled, and stepped back away from him. “Oh, yes, she is. But I don’t mind. I love her, too.”

He stood, gave her one last hug and kiss. “And I love you. But I gotta go.”

There would come a time, in the next few years, when they would need him more. As they got older. As they were less able to be the strength always supporting him. He hoped those days were far into the future. But as he walked out of his childhood home, he was ready for the tables to turn when they had to. They were all the family he’d ever had, and he finally understood how precious that made them.

Later that week, he searched for a new property he could restore. Homes weren’t difficult to find. Seemed like a quarter of all California real estate was up for sale. An exaggeration, but he certainly had many options. Still, great deals were always hard to find. He got one lead on a beach house. This interested him. He went to check it out.

The wind blew off the Pacific. Dark clouds didn’t let much sunshine reach the beaches. The only people enjoying the sand and the waves were a few runners and a handful of die-hard surfers. Eric, wearing a black raincoat, walked along the beach. He could have parked in front of the beach house he was interested in, but he’d decided to spend a little time outside. The cool salt air, the cries of seagulls, and the crashing waves relaxed him. His thoughts seemed to flow more freely when he was outdoors.

And what he was thinking of doing was investing in a few quality homes in nice family neighborhoods, fixing them up, and renting them. This would bring him some income while the market steadied itself. People continued to need places to live. If they couldn’t afford to buy, they’d have to rent. He was also playing with the idea of restoring commercial property. This appeared to be more profitable right now. No matter what he decided to do, it would involve restoration of real estate. He loved his job, and he’d always found ways of making money in the past. That didn’t have to change now.

He came upon the house on his list. The beach house was small and dwarfed by the neighboring homes. It had a nice wraparound porch, but it was practically caving in on itself. Inside he found worn maple floors that could be restored, a small kitchen in need of renovation, but stunning windows. He could rent this place by the week and make a killing. With the famous Santa Monica pier and Venice Boardwalk close by, and the tons of shopping and restaurants available on the Third Street Promenade, this was a vacationer’s heaven. He stood on the crumbling patio and listened to the far-off calls of seals on Santa Monica Bay, and he imagined sitting out here in the mornings with a cup of coffee. That was enough to help him decide he was going to own it.

As he looked out at the horizon, he saw an older couple holding hands, walking along the surf. A look of contentment on their faces. For some reason, Jaqueline and Victor came to mind. He frowned. Turned around and looked inside the house again. Hadn’t she… mentioned a beach house? Had she been serious?

Getting a spark of inspiration, Eric rushed out of the house and jogged back to his truck. He called Victor on his cell and asked him to meet him at the beach house, and he drove to Burbank to pick up Jaqueline. She questioned him for the sudden need to pull her away from her photo organization project but went with him, laughing at his enthusiasm.

Her eyes sought his when she saw Victor waiting in front of the beach house. “Eric—”

“Come on, you’ll see.” He got out of the truck and hurried around the passenger side to open the door for her.

“Hey Victor,” he said, and opened the door with the key he’d been given by the Realtor. “I wanted to show you both this place.”

“Why?” Victor said, frowning as he took in the dirty walls, cracked ceilings, broken lights, and trash on the floor.

Jaqueline seemed equally perplexed until she walked to the large living room window and stared at the view. “Wow.”

Eric stood beside her. “I thought you’d like that. Great for early-morning walks.”

“How did you find this?”

“Luck. Not many cheap houses right on the beach. Not that this is cheap. You’re paying for the land the house sits on. But I can fix this up and have it looking like new.”

Victor joined them at the picture window. “Am I missing something?”