Evenings at the Argentine Club Page 11

  “Don’t you think the entrance should stand out?” Eric asked.

  “Yes, but it already does. You don’t need something obvious like a half wall to announce to visitors that this is the entrance. But if you like it this way, that’s okay.”

  “Hmm,” he said, and got back to work.

  Victoria, too, moved on to other things. She took down all the old lighting fixtures, carried trash out, swept, and when her stomach grumbled she checked her watch and noticed it was almost two in the afternoon. So she dropped everything, washed her hands outside with a hose, and went for a late lunch run.

  As if they hadn’t eaten in a month, the guys devoured the giant garbage burritos—appropriately named for containing everything but the kitchen sink—and slurped down the monster sodas. And Victoria herself practically inhaled her smaller bean and rice burrito. And she didn’t even feel guilty eating the heavy meal. She’d had quite a workout already.

  Eric sat beside her, sipping on his soda when he finished eating. “I appreciate you being here today. You didn’t have to be involved in this part.”

  “Now you tell me,” she said, then smiled. “I wanted to be here.”

  “Thanks for picking up lunch.”

  She ate the last bite and wiped her lips. “No problem.”

  He gazed sleepily at her.

  “What?”

  “I never thought I’d be sitting across from you, casually eating lunch again. It’s weird.”

  “Weren’t you ever planning to return home?”

  He shook his head. “Nope.” He stood and tossed his trash into a plastic bag. “I wasn’t ever going to come back.” He patted his stomach as if satisfied. “Back to work.”

  She got on her feet, too. “Hey, wait a minute. You can’t leave me with just that. Why weren’t you ever going to come back?”

  “I didn’t think there was anything for me here anymore. Come on.” He jerked his head toward the house.

  “What about your parents? Didn’t you miss them?”

  “Honest?”

  “That would be nice.”

  He offered one nod. “I was young and angry when I left. I missed the easy home-cooked meals and the comforts of home. I didn’t miss my parents the first couple of years. It was them I was trying to get away from.”

  “Where did you go?”

  He narrowed his gaze and stared out at the yard. “All over. I stayed in the States for a while. Paid my dad’s debts off, then took off to Europe with some friends. Traveled all over until I ran out of money.” He chuckled. “My friends magically disappeared then. So I came back to America and started seriously working in real-estate investment. The last two years I’ve been in Austin. Nice college town. Lots of culture, believe it or not.”

  “So why did you come home?”

  He glanced at her. “I don’t know.”

  But she thought he did know. He just didn’t want to say that he’d gotten lonely. That he’d needed to reconnect with his past. That it was inevitable for people to return home. “That’s okay. It’s not always important to know every why.”

  Then he turned and placed a hand on her lower back. “Thanks.”

  She followed him inside. His helpers did, too.

  “Here,” Eric handed her the sledgehammer.

  “What?” He didn’t actually think she was going to swing that heavy, oversized hammer at anything, did he?

  “I’ve decided you’re right about that half wall.”

  She smiled, pleased that he had decided to trust her, and follow her first major recommendation. “Good. It’s going to make a big difference in here.”

  He put the sledgehammer in her hands and walked her to the wall. “Go for it.”

  “I don’t think—”

  “Come on,” he coaxed. “Give it a good swing. You wounded me with that comment of me being a macho construction worker, so come on.”

  She eyed him skeptically. She might be big, but that didn’t mean she was strong. Still, he looked so excited about her tearing down that wall. So she lifted the heavy, menacing-looking tool and swung it at the stuccoed wall. It made a small dent.

  Eric laughed. “I could have made a bigger hole if I kicked it. Slam the damn thing.”

  Victoria nodded, lifting the sledgehammer with more determination.

  Eric stood beside her making an ugly face. “Hard. Think of putting it clear through to the other side.”

  The other two men came to watch.

  Victoria pulled it back as far as she could and swung, hitting the dry wall and chipping a piece off. A small piece. She pulled back again and hit it again and again and again. The men all cheered and yelled things like “Slam it,” “Think of your ex-boyfriend,” “You got it.”

  Finally, the muscles in her arms started to burn, and she was laughing too much to continue. She stepped back, and all the guys lunged forward as if they were just waiting to take over. They kicked at the wood beams that were left until the entire wall lay in pieces on the floor. Then they cheered, congratulated each other, and patted her on the back. The entire episode reeked of too much testosterone, so she allowed Eric to dust her off and take the sledgehammer out of her hands. “Wasn’t that fun?” he asked

  “A blast,” she said, breathing heavily.

  He laughed. “That’s how I’m going to feel when you start asking me what color carpet matches what color walls and what flooring works best with what cabinets.”

  “I wasn’t going to ask you.”

  “Well, then.” He stepped back. “I’ve hired the right woman for the job.”

  By nightfall, she understood why he said she wouldn’t have to work out if she helped him. Not only had her arms gotten a workout, but with all the trips she’d made to the Dumpster she must have walked ten miles. Even her back was sore.

  He sat on the front porch steps drinking his hundredth soda. She finished sweeping up the last of the broken glass and tile, then joined him. It was still warm outside, but a breeze was starting to cool things off. This was actually her favorite time of day. Birds flew from tree to tree trying to find just the right spot to settle in for the night. Some mowers could be heard in the background as people got home from work and tackled the chore. The air was scented with cooking smells coming from neighboring kitchens and outdoor grills. From the relaxed look on Eric’s face, she guessed it was his favorite time of day, too. And from the look of the house right now, this was the best place to be.

  “We didn’t leave a thing intact in there,” she said.

  With a lazy grin, he turned to look at her. “Demo is always the most fun.”

  “Yes, I saw the look of satisfaction on your face when you took your sledgehammer to those bathroom cabinets earlier. A lot of hidden aggression, I think.”

  “You think correctly.” He placed a hand on her knee. “Thanks for your help.”

  Every time he touched her—and he did so a lot—she became instantly aware of him as a man. Strong and confident and so different from the boy he used to be. She had to continuously remind herself that this flirtatious man was just Eric. “No problem. It was sort of fun, even if it looks like all we’ve done is mess up a perfectly good house.”

  “I’ve got about a six- to eight-week window to get this all done. If we finish by the end of September, I’ll only have to make two house payments. I can put the house on the market in October. Tomorrow, I’d like you to pick out the kitchen cabinets and appliances, because they take the longest to come in. I’ll give you my American Express and your limit.”

  “Ah, shopping. Now you’re talking.”

  “Remember, we want nice, but we don’t want to go overboard.”

  “You sure you want me doing this?”

  He squeezed her knee and let go. “Positive.”

  “Okay. Then I’m off to take a shower and go to sleep. I’m exhausted.” She stood.

  “Victoria.”

  “Hmm?”

  “’Night,” he said, though she was sure that wasn’t a
t all what he wanted to say.

  “Good night, Eric.”

  He watched her, making no move to get up and go anywhere. He wanted to sit outside by himself for a little while. After so many years on his own, he enjoyed the solitude. Although he could have sat on this porch talking to Victoria all night. Once they got this place cleaned up, he’d take possession of one of the rooms and move in. Life was looking up.

  Victoria took a long, warm, heavily scented shower, absorbing the moisture into her pores and relaxing her tired muscles. Then she wrapped herself in a long bathrobe and brushed her teeth. Wiping the steam off the mirror with a towel, she gazed at herself. If someone had told her last month that she was going to be hammering walls with Eric Ortelli, considering going into business for herself, and maybe going back to college, she would have told them they were on drugs. All of that involved work. Not to mention a belief that she could be successful with any of it.

  She let the bathrobe fall and turned to look in the full-length mirror on the bathroom door. Her belly bulged forward. Her hips flared way further than the natural bone and muscle structure forced them to. Rolls of fat padded her back and her legs. Her breasts were large, but they actually looked firm and good. She had one thing going for her.

  Mentally cringing, she pulled out the scale. The red digital numbers lit up and rewarded her with a number that said she was five pounds lighter than she was two weeks ago. Amazing. In the adjoining bedroom, her cell phone played Beyoncé. Victoria hurriedly slipped on the bathrobe and reached for her phone.

  “Hey, Carmen.”

  “You sound out of breath,” Carmen said. “What were you doing?”

  “Nothing fun. I just got out of the shower.”

  “Well, I have something to confess.”

  Victoria sat on her bed. When someone confessed something, it usually wasn’t good. “Yeah?”

  “I enrolled in business classes this year instead of the planned genetics, metabolic biochemistry, and molecular structure classes. I need to see if there’s something I’m better at than all those science courses.”

  “Better? Carmen, you’re an excellent student. You can’t do much better than straight As.”

  “I struggle for those grades and the next aren’t going to look so good. Labs didn’t go well.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m trying something different. Hopefully, you and Dad won’t freak.”

  “Why would I freak?”

  “You might not agree with what I have in mind.”

  “Which is?”

  “Let’s see how I do in these business classes first, then we’ll talk.”

  Business? Victoria wasn’t following. “Carmen, you can always talk to me, you know?”

  “I know.”

  “Okay. I’ve got something to confess, myself.”

  “You found a guy and he’s not Argentine.”

  “Worse. I quit La Parrilla.” She told Carmen the whole story, even the part about working with Eric.

  “Oh, my God. I’m speechless, Victoria.”

  “Think I’m crazy?”

  “No! I think it’s all great. I love that Dad’s planning to have more than one restaurant. And you being a professional designer? What can be more perfect?”

  “Dad’s really pissed at me. I hurt him, Carmen.” The line was silent for a few seconds too long. “Carmen?”

  “I’m here. I was just thinking that if he hadn’t chosen our career paths for us, maybe he wouldn’t be hurt.”

  “If he starts to struggle or it looks like he’s going to lose what he’s invested, I’m going to have to step back in.”

  “Vic, maybe instead of thinking you can go back and help him out of a financial bind doing something you hate and you’re not good at—and I’m only repeating what you’ve told me; I’m not being critical—you should start building your own career.”

  “I know. I’ve been thinking that, too. I want to have the money to save their house if Dad’s new restaurants don’t do well and he can’t pay the banks.”

  “I hate to say this, but I wasn’t implying you do that to save Dad, but yourself.”

  Victoria was the one who was quiet this time. “Let’s just see how it all works out.”

  “Love you, Vic.”

  “I love you, too.”

  Jaqueline couldn’t dwell on the lack of connection with Victor forever. He made his feelings clear, and sadly, she couldn’t say his words were a surprise. His mind had always been occupied with plans that rarely included her. So why let it bother her now? In the past, she’d focused on her daughters and the truth had been easy to bury. Today it wasn’t as easy, but she tried. She called Hugo.

  He answered his cell but seemed distracted. “Jaqueline, it’s so good to hear from you.”

  “Bad time?” she asked. A child cried loudly in the background.

  “No,” he said. “Well, I have my children with me and I’m having one of those days,” he admitted. “But it’s still good to hear from you.”

  She smiled, remembering what “one of those days” felt like. “Are you driving?” Sounded like he was in a cave of sorts, and she heard the children.

  “Yes, I’m in traffic—missed my son’s soccer practice while they cleared an accident. He’s pouting. And now my daughter is crying, because I won’t take her to buy a dress for her piano recital tomorrow. She didn’t tell me in time, and it’s too late now. As it is, it’s probably going to be McDonald’s again tonight, because I don’t have time to cook.”

  Whew, he really is overwhelmed right now, Jaqueline thought.

  She didn’t know why he was a single father, but she felt for him. “Hang in there, Hugo. I just wanted to let you know that I put in a good word for you at the club. We’re going to try to work something out for your band.”

  “Ah, gracias, Jaqueline. I appreciate it.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  He cursed. “Damn it, I missed my exit.”

  “I’d better let you go.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  “Don’t be. And Hugo?”

  “What?”

  “If you’re close to a mall, pull over and buy your daughter that dress. Then take lots of pictures at the recital. You won’t regret it.”

  He sighed, obviously distraught. “Okay. If you think I should.”

  “Trust me. Buy the dress. Eat at McDonald’s. Let the world go by, and enjoy your kids.”

  “Okay, Jaqueline. Thanks.”

  She ended the call and smiled. “Goodness.” She didn’t envy him. Well, maybe she did, a little. And she asked herself—what would she do to have that again?

  Chapter Ten

  Taking the next step toward her new life, Victoria checked out the interior design degree offered at the institute Douglas recommended. She’d laid in bed a long time after she’d gotten off the phone with Carmen last night, thinking about what they’d talked about. She couldn’t go into the designing idea halfheartedly. If she was going to do it, she had to be prepared to succeed. The institute had a campus right in Burbank, so she wouldn’t have to fight LA traffic or move out of town to attend. That was a plus.

  She asked to speak to a counselor, but the size of the university allowed them to be much less formal than a major university that specialized in everything from plant reproduction to granting medical degrees. Instead, she was introduced to a facilitator, who walked her through the curriculum that the university offered for Interior Architecture. Fancy name for a designer. They had courses like color, lighting, fabrics and textiles, presentation boards. She had to be honest with herself. It all sounded interesting and exciting.

  “You’d be coming in as a transfer student,” the woman told her.

  “Yes. I’ve completed all my general division classes.”

  “Wonderful. Then you can jump right into the design courses.” She stood. “Let me walk you around campus.”

  Victoria followed her as she pointed out the various modern buildings and
showed off the green grounds. That was all nice, but Victoria had little interest in university life. “I don’t want to spend years completing this degree. To be honest, I’m not sure I want to put in a bunch of time to do something that I already do without a degree.”

  “We have an accelerated program,” she said, “created for working adults like yourself, and we even offer weekend classes. There are those, Victoria, who present themselves as designers when they have no training. But if you’re thinking of making interior design a career—a profession—you owe it to yourself to invest in the proper education. Our graduates are competent design experts who have been hired by top firms and won prestigious awards. You couldn’t do better for your future than to post a degree from our university on your office wall.”

  Victoria nodded, still not sure she wanted to invest the time. She completed her tour and left the university with a folder full of forms and brochures. As she drove down Glen Oaks Boulevard, she had to fight the desire to go straight to La Parrilla and give up all these insane ideas. Working in the back office of the restaurant, unnoticed and with minimal responsibility, held an appeal that was hard to explain to people like that facilitator, who probably spent most of her day talking to starry-eyed eighteen-year-olds. Or even Eric, who was never really handed anything and had to work to create his own destiny. Victoria could simply sit back and accept what her father was building and do nothing.

  But that was where the problem rested. She had to do nothing, and in return she felt like nothing.

  She made a few turns and headed to Eric’s property.

  She found him in the backyard, covered with sweat. He had a bandana—though it looked more like an old rag—tied around his head and wore long shorts and a sleeveless tee. Involved in a heated discussion with a couple of guys who were standing around the pool, he didn’t notice her.

  Victoria paused, thinking maybe she should have called his cell first before showing up. There really wasn’t anything for her to do here yet. In fact, she was supposed to choose the flooring this week. Then again, she didn’t know the measurements of each room, so that might be a good place to start.