A Season to Celebrate

by Fern Michaels

  As close as Julia was to Lilí, she’d purposefully not told her about how Ben had taken to stopping by the association’s main office the past two Tuesdays to go over sponsor updates and other details with her. How they’d fallen into the routine of meeting, then grabbing a bite to eat on their way to parranda rehearsal at the youth center.

  They’d gone back to Gloria’s once, then grabbed deep dish pizza last week.

  Working dinners. Between friends.

  That’s the way Julia continued to think about the hours she spent with Ben.

  Yet, she’d kept the information from Lilí because . . .

  Because her cousin put the “die” in die-hard Cubs fan. Her love for the sport rivaled that of Julia’s brothers. As soon as Lilí had heard about Ben’s involvement with the soiree, she had jumped at the chance to serve as an extra pair of volunteer hands the night of the event.

  So, when Julia found herself spending more time with Ben, she hadn’t said anything to avoid this exact reaction.

  “I can’t believe you held out on me like this,” Lilí continued with her complaint. “Chica , you’ve been hanging with baseball royalty all this time. How cool is that?”

  Lilí’s gaze darted back and forth from the highway to Julia as they traveled from the cousins’ family home in the nearby suburb of Oakton back into the city.

  They’d spent Thanksgiving Day celebrating with Lilí’s sisters and their familias . That’s how Julia’s not-so-secret secret had gotten out, thanks to Jeremy, Laura Taylor’s son, who was married to Julia’s cousin Rosa.

  Right after his “please pass the tostones, ” he’d casually said, “So my mom tells me you and Ben Thomas have been working closely together on the soiree.”

  Julia had been so shocked, she’d nearly dropped the tray of fried green plantains she held out to him.

  Lilí had actually spit out her water, drawing a howl of laughter from her sisters’ toddlers and a shoulder-shaking giggle from her nine-year-old niece, María. Naturally, Yazmine and Rosa had been none too pleased with Lilí’s lack of table manners. Equally as naturally, Lilí had taken their older sister admonishments in stride, waving them off for more important matters. Like talk about Ben Thomas.

  At first, Julia had tried skirting the topic at the dinner table. Every question Lilí tossed at her had been lobbed back with a noncommittal answer tied to the soiree. Julia had carefully kept her tone light, devoid of her conflicting feelings for the hunky ballplayer. As soon as she could, she’d changed the subject.

  No way did she want to risk giving away any hint of her burgeoning attraction and have it inadvertently make its way back to her mami. And it would. With Rosa pregnant and due in early January, Julia’s mom called to check on her fairly regularly.

  Unfortunately, Lilí had remained undeterred, pushing for details. “All the good ones,” as she’d put it, her eyebrows waggling playfully.

  Thank goodness having little ones at the table kept their parents occupied, often missing part of the table conversation. So while Yazmine, Rosa, and their husbands tended to their kids, Julia had sent Lilí a narrow-eyed glower, mouthing “later” before taking a big gulp of wine.

  Looked like “later” had become “now.”

  Night had fallen and they sped along I-90 toward the city, on their way to post-dinner cocktails and dessert at the Taylors’ downtown penthouse.

  The entire Fernandez family had been invited, but after the day’s festivities, the little ones were overtired and Rosa’s obstetrician had ordered her to get more rest over the school break.

  That left Lilí and Julia to represent the family for an invite many A-listers in Chicago and its surrounding areas would clamor to receive.

  “Quit holding out already,” Lilí pressed. “What’s the guy like? I mean, he seems like buena gente in his interviews. Is he really?”

  Was he good people, like her cousin asked?

  Julia didn’t have to think twice about her answer.

  “Sí ,” she replied. “He actually is.”

  And that was the problem.

  Ben actually seemed too good to be true. Friendly, considerate, quick to laugh. Humble.

  And yet, there was a sad undercurrent she often sensed when one of the kids, someone at the office, or a fan on the street asked about his playing days.

  He didn’t talk much about his wins or stats. Surprisingly, any talk about his playing days focused on the people and relationships he’d formed. In the locker room, while traveling, during practice, on their days off.

  The times he asked about her family, the conversation steered more toward their traditions, whether she would miss being home for the holidays.

  If you asked her, he seemed lonely. But how could a man everyone wanted to be friends with feel alone?

  It didn’t make sense.

  Most of the time she wondered if she might be projecting the little homesickness she felt onto him.

  “Has he shared any insider baseball stories with you? You know, the kind we don’t hear on the news?” Lilí asked, intruding on Julia’s musings.

  “We actually don’t discuss baseball all that much.”

  “Ha! It’s crazy,” Lilí said on a chuckle.

  “What is?”

  “Your situation. I mean, how often have you told me that you’re tired of living and breathing baseball with your brothers? Then you come here and wind up working with one of the best this city’s seen in ages.”

  Lights from the oncoming traffic shone through the windshield, illuminating Lilí. She shook her head, a corner of her mouth quirked in a satiric smirk.

  “I guess that’s good for the Youth Association and Mrs. Taylor.” Lilí flipped her signal as she maneuvered her Corolla to exit I-90 onto West Congress. “No worries about you being star-crazy. If there’s one type of guy you’d never fall for, it’s an athlete.”

  “You got that right,” Julia answered.

  She turned away to stare out her passenger window at the blur of holiday lights decorating the downtown city streets.

  “No chance of that happening,” she murmured.

  All she had to do was keep reminding herself of that.

  * * *

  Ben stood near one of the fire pits strategically placed around the expanse of Sherman and Laura Taylor’s penthouse terrace. After the gourmet Thanksgiving meal shared at their Victorian-inspired dining room table, the group of fifteen or so had moved outside to enjoy the atypically mild late November weather.

  The Taylors were known for hosting intimate gatherings like this, where important, oftentimes invaluable, personal and professional networking took place. Once, Ben spent an evening enjoying drinks and the picturesque Chicago sunset with several bank execs and their wives, discussing everything from fishing off the coast of Miami to investment opportunities. By the end of the night one of the men wound up donating a hefty sum to the youth baseball clinic program. Without any prodding or mention of the need for funds on Ben’s part.

  But tonight, while the prominent players in Chicago’s business and legal professions seemed content to relax around the dancing flames with their bellies full, Ben strategically sat on one of the dark brown wicker ottomans facing the formal living room inside. From his vantage point he had a clear view of the archway that led into the foyer with the penthouse’s private elevator doors.

  The same doors Julia would enter through once she arrived.

  That’s the main reason he was still here, other than his manners reminding him of the rudeness of leaving so soon after dinner.

  He’d thought about going to Miami for the weekend. Touching base with his parents, spending time with Octavio’s family. Then Laura had issued her invite and mentioned the Fernandez sisters and Julia should be here.

  The idea of spending more time with Julia and meeting the cousins she spoke about with love and laughter in her voice had him bagging his travel plans to stay in town.

  Through the thick glass windows he spotted the housekeepe
r striding into the living room, heading toward the foyer. He couldn’t see the gilded metal elevator doors, but he hoped the older woman was on her way to greet . . . his thought trailed off as Julia came into view.

  She and another petite, dark-haired woman with a similar athletic build and golden tan skin strolled around the corner, stopping under the archway.

  He watched as Julia unbuttoned her cream winter jacket, slipping it off her shoulders to reveal a dark green sweater over a black pencil skirt and black knee-high boots. His pulse sparked as she brushed her fingers through the length of her black, satiny hair. It was a habit of hers he’d noticed over the past couple of weeks.

  A habit that made him want to run his own fingers through her tresses and feel the silky strands. Among other parts of her.

  The housekeeper took Julia’s jacket from her and, while Ben couldn’t read Julia’s lips as she said something, he caught her gentle smile of thanks.

  The other young woman, probably Lilí, followed suit before the two cousins began making their way across the mottled white and cream tiled floor. They strode past the ornate antique hutches displaying priceless vases and sculptures, on their way toward the sliding glass doors leading to the expansive terrace. And while others may have been drawn to the beautiful decorations and touches in the Taylors’ artfully designed home, Ben only had eyes for Julia.

  He rose from his seat, anxious to be with her again.

  The past three Tuesdays hadn’t been enough. Not for him.

  Laura Taylor excused herself from a small group standing near the outdoor bar off to the right and she and Ben reached the doors at the same time as Julia and her cousin.

  Politeness had him holding back, allowing the hostess to greet her guests. Warm hugs were exchanged, then Laura held out her arm, welcoming him into their close-knit circle.

  “Lilí, I’m sure you know who this is, as I’m aware of your baseball knowledge. But Ben, I’d like you to meet the youngest of the Fernandez sisters, Lilí. She’s a victim’s advocate at a clinic that serves the Humboldt Park area.”

  He extended his hand to shake, but Lilí leaned in for a hug as was customary in her Latino culture.

  “Hugging’s in my DNA,” she said with a laugh. “But even if it wasn’t, I’m giving myself this one chance to fan-girl over you. Then I promise to be on my best behavior.”

  Ben chuckled at her cheeky grin. It turned into a full out laugh when Julia rolled her eyes and murmured an “Ay Dios mío .”

  “What would you two like to drink?” Laura asked.

  Julia declined, so Laura and Lilí headed toward the bar together. As they moved away, Julia turned toward him, that easy smile of hers curving her lips.

  “Happy Thanksgiving,” she said.

  Stepping closer, she lightly grasped his upper arms and rose up on her toes to press her cheek against his in the not-quite-a-kiss gesture she’d greeted him with the other day. Instinctively he placed a hand on her waist, taking in a deep breath sweetened by her floral scent. The urge to wrap her in his arms, give her the kind of hello kiss that would knock her stiletto boots off, pounded in his veins.

  But she’d given him no clear sign that she was interested in moving their relationship out of the friend zone into something more. Until he was sure, he’d play it casual. All while upping his game, determined to woo her.

  “It’s good to see you again,” he said, pleased when she didn’t move away after their brief hug. Instead she stayed close, keeping their conversation intimate. “When I heard you were having a family dinner in Oakton, I wasn’t sure if you’d make it.”

  “Lilí and I skipped dessert. Though I may or may not have snuck a sliver of Rosa’s flan on the way out.”

  The teasing glint in Julia’s hazel eyes easily drew an answering smile from him. He wanted to whisk her away to a quiet corner where he could have her to himself. Spend the evening enjoying the heat from the fire and sharing a bottle of wine while the lights from Navy Pier in the distance and the stars sprinkled across the sky sparkled around them.

  “With that sweet tooth of yours, I’m sure Rosa expected you to sample,” he told Julia, pleasure warming his chest when her smile broadened into a huge grin.

  “Ah, you know me too well.”

  “Not yet.”

  Julia tilted her head, giving him a speculative look. Before she could respond to his not too subtle intent, Sherman Taylor approached, his hand outstretched in greeting.

  The prominent lawyer ushered them over to chat with two middle-aged couples seated in a pair of dark brown wicker patio couches and matching ottomans. A brick and metal gas fire pit nestled in the center of the gathering space creating a warm, inviting ambiance.

  Introductions were made for Julia, then Sherman drifted away to pour her a glass of pinot noir. One of the husbands, a salt-and-pepper-haired criminal defense lawyer, asked Ben how he enjoyed living near the ballpark in Wrigleyville. This led into a discussion of the relatively new area known as the town square, the Park at Wrigleyville.

  “Have you been yet?” the lawyer’s wife asked Julia.

  “No, I haven’t. Though I hope to get there to try a bit of ice skating,” she answered. “That would be a first for me.”

  “You should go!” the woman encouraged. “I took our kids last weekend and they had a great time.”

  The conversation moved on to other topics, though Ben listened with only half an ear.

  He was too busy concocting an idea. One he hoped he could entice Julia to say yes to. So far, any mention of sharing dinner or coffee outside their event planning had been politely declined. But this . . . it just might be the ticket.

  A short while later, Lilí joined their group. He started to rise and offer her his seat on an ottoman, but Julia slid over on the deep red sofa cushion to make room for her cousin to sit in between her and one of the wives.

  The move brought Julia closer to him, their knees brushing against one another’s. Like a randy adolescent sitting next to his first crush, Ben felt his body hum at the innocent contact. Surreptitiously, he tugged on his dress pants leg, adjusting himself.

  Though she didn’t say anything, Ben noticed Lilí placed a cell phone on Julia’s lap. She furtively tapped the screen to draw Julia’s attention to something displayed there.

  Julia ducked her head to read the message. Her mouth thinned the slightest bit and he caught her heavy sigh.

  “Will you excuse me?” Julia said to the group. She pushed off the couch, bringing Ben to his feet alongside her. “I’ll be right back.”

  Ben waited for her to pass by, then followed her inside the penthouse, concerned about the frown marring her normally smooth brow.

  “Everything okay?” he asked, closing the door behind them and silencing the din of conversation.

  Though they had gathered to celebrate Thanksgiving, Christmas music played softly on hidden speakers. Laura even had a stately Douglas fir, artfully decorated in red and gold ornaments and ribbons with tinkly white lights, holding court near the far bank of windows overlooking Navy Pier and Lake Michigan.

  The tree lights glinted off Julia’s gold crucifix necklace. The brightness clashed with the apprehension stamping her features.

  “Yeah, it’s fine,” she said, belying her expression. “I’ve been avoiding a phone call, but apparently it can’t be put off anymore.”

  She held Lilí’s cell in a death grip, her fist jiggling the device back and forth at her side. Her gaze shot around the living room, into the formal dining room up three steps off to the right, then across to the sitting area on the left, as if searching for a place to make her call.

  “You might want to try the library. You’ll have more privacy there,” he suggested.

  “Thanks, I’ll ask a staff member where I can find it.”

  “Here, I’ll show you the way.” With a hand on her lower back, Ben led her through the room, down the hall toward the office and library.

  Tension vibrated in her stiff shoulders a
nd shadowed her smooth features.

  “This is my favorite piece in Sherman and Laura’s collection.” As they neared it, Ben pointed at an oil painting of the Chicago skyline inspired by Van Gogh’s Starry Night .

  Julia briefly glanced at the gold-framed painting, her mind clinging to whatever had her anxious.

  “Beautiful colors,” she murmured.

  “I actually bought another one in the collection after seeing this. Then I reached out to the artist about creating something similar with a Miami backdrop.”

  That got her attention.

  She paused in front of the artwork, angling her neck to look up at him.

  “Your two cities. Your homes.”

  “Well, that would be more like a ball field, but . . .”

  He let his voice trail off, the ache of having lost the one place where he’d felt most at home, the most sense of family, clogging his throat.

  As if she sensed his loss, Julia reached for his hand. She linked her fingers with his, surprising him.

  “Sometimes, a move away from the place where we’re the most comfortable allows for the best kind of growth.”

  Said the woman determined to leave her family and Island behind for a new life. It was the one thing about her he didn’t understand. Mostly because he’d give anything to be back in the clubhouse with his “baseball family,” ribbing the other guys, grabbing their gloves to run onto the field, knowing they had each other’s back, win or lose.

  While she, in a sense, was turning her back on her family’s legacy.

  Despite his inability to comprehend how someone with the type of family connection he’d always craved could just walk away from it, Ben had a hard time finding fault with her decision to pursue her own dreams. Not when following her own path had led her to cross his.

  The cell phone vibrated in Julia’s other hand signaling an incoming message.

  “Ay ,” she said on a groan. “I better get this. My mami won’t be deterred.”