Evenings at the Argentine Club Read online

  “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 l
ast 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.

  Chapter Four

  Friday afternoon, Eric parked his pickup in front of the fifth and last house he planned to inspect this week. Immediately he liked what he saw. The house looked like someone had used it as a dumping ground. Old couches, broken glass, tires, pieces of discarded toys littered the front yard. An overgrown pepper tree blocked much of the view of the front door and porch. An attached garage had practically caved in on itself. It would need an entirely new roof. Most potential home owners saw this kind of mess and kept right on driving to the next house on their list, not wanting to clean up someone else’s trash. But cleanup was the easiest fix in the world.

  He walked across the yard, stepping carefully around all the garbage. The front door had seen better days and would definitely have to be replaced. Stepping inside the house, left unlocked during open-house hours, he scanned the living room, trying to see where the immediate focal point of the room should be. He decided it had to be the brick fireplace. Looking down at the stained and torn carpet, he knew it had to come out. Walls looked good and sturdy, even if some of the paint around the fireplace looked to be chipping. Kitchen was large and at one time had been okay, but since the house had sat empty vandals had come in and taken everything of value. The sink, faucet, oven, and microwave were gone. And it looked like they’d tried to pull the cabinets out but failed. The house had three bedrooms, two bathrooms, a large living room, and a small den. The starting bid for this house was ridiculously low. Eric nodded to himself. This was it. He’d hire an inspector to check for structural soundness, roof leaks, termites, and mold. If all that checked out, he was in business. He swatted some kind of bug, probably a spider coming down from the ceiling, and made his way out through the front door.

  Lucia kept dinner warm on the stove. She was washing a pot when Antonio came in and wrapped his arms around her plump middle.

  “I’m starving,” he said, and nuzzled her neck.

  Lucia smiled, drying her hands on a kitchen towel. “I’m waiting for Eric to get home so we can eat together.” She turned around in Antonio’s arms. “Why don’t you call him to see where he is?”

  “Because I’m not going to hound and annoy him, and you shouldn’t, either.”

  “I haven’t seen my son in seven years. Do you think I’m going to pretend to be indifferent about spending time with him?”

  “No, amorcito. But let him figure things out on his own. He’s home. And he’s home because he wants to be home. Just wait and see what happens.”

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nbsp; Lucia placed her hands on Antonio’s face and kissed his familiar and comforting lips. “I want my son back. For good.”

  Antonio sighed and nodded; he got the same look of regret that he always got when they spoke about Eric being gone. “If I could turn back time, he never would have left. But the past is the past, and I can’t do anything about it.”

  “Of course you couldn’t. He was young and needed the adventures that young men seem to need. After all, you were his age about the time you decided to move to this country. But he’s older now, and maybe you can convince him that it’s time to settle down. Have a man-to-man talk with him.”

  Antonio stepped back. He smiled. “I’m starving. Let’s eat, huh?”

  “Bueno. I guess I’ll feed him when he gets home. I hope it’s soon, though. I want to get to sleep. I’ve got to be to work early tomorrow. It’s inventory time.”

  “Mmm,” he said.

  Antonio hated that she had to work when so many of her friends didn’t. Take Jaqueline, for example. Sure, she helped out at the restaurant before Victoria took over, but she never had to work. Unlike other couples their age from the club, Lucia and Antonio struggled to make ends meet. Eric sent them money each month. She told him not to, but Antonio told her it would hurt his ego if they rejected his help. Still, she would rather have him living nearby than receive a check from him once a month. They deposited his checks in an account and never touched the money.

  But also, Lucia liked working. She’d gotten a job at a department store as soon as Eric finished high school, figuring she’d have more time to work, plus she could use the money to help him get through college. Sadly, he dropped out and they didn’t have college tuition payments for long, but she continued to work part-time. It got her out of the house. And even some great discounts at the store. She enjoyed it. And she didn’t care if Antonio approved.

  She placed a plate of ravioli with sauce and chicken in front of him and kissed the top of his head. Then she fixed her own plate.