by Julia Amante
“It was fate. Finding that house was a stroke of luck.” He leaned back and rested his woven fingers on his stomach.
“So it’s a done deal?”
“Done. I’ll be spending the next two or three months getting it ready for them to move in.”
“Thank you,” she whispered.
He was going to say it was not a big deal. But it was, and he knew it. “You’re welcome.”
“Hey, we’re done, dude,” one of the movers called from inside the house. “Need a signature.”
Eric stood. “Be right back.” He went inside to sign.
Victoria drew a breath. The outside air was cold, and she shivered. She stood and followed Eric inside. The house was completely empty, and her footsteps sounded loud on the wooden floors. The movers left and closed the front door behind them.
Eric buried his hands in his pockets and looked around. “Damn. Want to stage my house again? With permanent items this time?”
She laughed. Her eyes met his contemplative gaze, and her heart beat hard against her chest. “Maybe. I need to see where we stand. I’m still not sure why you came home this time. Not sure if you’re still angry with me. Or if you’re going to leave each time things don’t go your way. If I should take my things and go, or if… the marriage proposal is still on the table.”
“Fair enough. I came home because this is where I want to settle down and live my life. I’m not still angry with you. I’m not going to leave each time things don’t go my way. You shouldn’t pack your bags and leave, and the marriage proposal is most definitely still on the table.”
“Hmm.” She walked the empty living room, stopped at the front door and leaned her back against it. Watching him as he took up the entire room all by himself. Gorgeous.
“But you’re angry with me,” he said.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“You just left.”
“I didn’t want to get in your way. I wanted you to go do this job in Washington.” He moved forward, his hands still in his pockets. “I want you to be successful and be free to do whatever makes you happy. I want to be your biggest supporter, not the weight around your ankles. I thought if I came home before you left, my pitiful crying might make you want to stay.”
“Your crying?”
“Oh yeah, it would have been an ugly scene.” He continued to approach. “I would have bawled my eyes out. You would have felt guilty and stayed.” He gave a playful shudder. “Ugly.”
“So let me get this straight. You stayed gone because you weren’t strong enough to watch me leave?”
“You got it.” He stepped closer, standing only a few inches from her now.
She fisted her hand at her sides to keep from touching him. “So instead you disappeared, refused to take my calls, and made me cry myself to sleep each night.”
He pulled his hands out of his pockets and placed them on the door by her shoulders. “Let me make it up to you.”
“Don’t you dare touch me.” Although her breath was already coming in thicker.
He stepped closer and dropped his forehead on her shoulder, his hands still on the door. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t know how to stay out of your way while still being by your side.” He angled his head so his lips touched the side of her neck. “Tell me I didn’t blow this with you, please, Victoria.”
Tears clouded her vision. She closed her eyes and brought her hands up, placing them on his chest. Then she turned her head and found his lips.
He responded immediately. Growling in response, kissing her hungrily. His hands sliding down the door, but still not touching her body. But every other inch of his body came in contact with hers. He pressed her hard against the door. Bit her bottom lip, kissed down her neck, along her breastbone, to her breasts. Her knees grew weak, and she began sliding down. He finally let go of the door, wrapped his arms around her, and helped her to the floor.
She should have stopped this. The wood floor was cold and hard. They still had much more to talk about. And sex wouldn’t mend the wounds they’d inflicted on each other out of sheer stupidity. But none of that mattered in those minutes where the clothes came off and their bodies came together hard and feverishly. The explosion of passion came quickly, and left them both breathless and drained.
Once she caught her breath, she put herself together as best she could and sat up, her back against the wall. He lay sprawled on the floor. “Vicki?”
“What?”
“The older I get, the more I realize I’m not perfect.”
She laughed because that sounded so funny. “You mean you thought you were?”
He pushed himself up on an elbow. “Yes.”
“Well, welcome to reality.”
“So, you knew I wasn’t perfect?”
“Honey, you’re pretty darn close.”
He smiled. “Does that mean I’m forgiven for wanting to claim you for myself and never let you go?”
She stared at him. Although she’d been angry and hurt that he cut off communication the way he had, she was as much at fault. In her mind, she was already planning a fabulous career, finally traveling away from this town. Finally free. And a marriage proposal from a man who wanted nothing more than to return home and settle comfortably into it sent her into a panicky, emotional dive. But looking at him now, she understood that he wasn’t going to tie her down. With him she’d been able to soar. Look how far she’d gotten. And he came back to continue to support her. “Okay,” she said, as they waged a staring war across the room. “You’re forgiven.”
“I was starting to sweat waiting for your answer.”
“If we still have a bathtub, I’ll help you get nice and clean.”
He pushed himself up. “Shit, this floor is hard.” He stood and took her hand. “I like that idea, but I’m not done getting dirty yet.” He led her to his bedroom, where at least he had a mattress on the floor. They took all their clothes off and got under the blankets. It was still early evening, but she didn’t care. She didn’t want to be anywhere else. They snuggled together, their legs wrapped around each other.
“Will you have to travel a lot with your design company?” he asked.
“Not really. I think most of their contracts are around here. But occasionally they get work in other states. It won’t affect me regardless.”
“Why not?”
“I’m going to go ahead and open my own design studio right here in Burbank. That way I can finish my classes, get my own clients, and stay close to those I love. What about you?”
He drew a breath. “I’m going to need to travel back and forth between Austin where I just bought a place, somewhere in Arizona where my dad just bought a place, and here where your parents just bought the beach house.”
She raised an eyebrow. “I hope you’re going to need a traveling interior designer for all these places, or I’m going to be upset again.”
“I absolutely need an interior designer.” He kissed her forehead. “But don’t worry, the guy I left in charge in Austin is really good. I’ll go back three or four times to get it completed, then I’ll try to stay local.”
“Promise?”
He held out a hand. “Promise.”
She placed her hand in his to shake, but instead brought it to her chest. “Then, when all that’s done, I’d like to officially announce our engagement.”
“Why wait?”
“I don’t trust you,” she said, but with a smile. “You might decide to take off again. Your track record sucks.”
“It does. You’re right.” His hand slid up her chest and curved around the back of her neck. “And every time, I come back and decide to stay because of you. Must mean I’m crazy in love with you.”
“And every time I welcome you back. What does that say about me?”
“That you’re crazy in love with me?”
“Or just plain crazy.”
He laughed and kissed her. “Just marry me before we have our first child, okay?
”
“Deal,” she said, with a prickly feeling in the base of her spine as she thought about how that reunion by the front door a few minutes ago had been condomless, and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d taken a birth control pill.
Oh, what the hell. She’d deal with whatever life brought her. Although this time… “Get the box of condoms,” she muttered.
He chuckled as he kissed his way down her body.
Chapter Twenty-five
Six months later, sitting on the newly constructed and stained wraparound porch at her mother’s beach house, Victoria was happily not pregnant. In fact, she was weighed down by very little these days.
In the last few busy months, Eric finished the Austin house and flipped it for a decent profit. Then they both spent a month and a half in Arizona, fixing up Antonio’s house. Eric turned it over to a real-estate firm to sell.
They returned home and Victoria spent most of her time studying and taking classes. In May, the Argentine Club had its first-ever non-Argentine event, celebrating Cinco de Mayo with some fabulous performers and delicious, spicy Mexican dishes. The day was a huge hit, and Jaqueline received all the praise she deserved for organizing it.
And then there was this beach house. After weeks of reconstruction and designing the inside just right, Victoria spent the weekend helping her mother move in, and now they were taking some time off to relax.
“Eric did an amazing job on this house,” she said under her floppy summer hat.
“You’ve got to convince him to take your father’s check. We never expected him to work for free.”
“Dad paid for all the materials. All Eric did was donate a little time.”
“You both donated a lot of time,” Jaqueline corrected. “And Victor now wants you both to get our old house ready to sell.”
“No, he doesn’t.” Victoria lifted her head to gaze at her mother. “Carmen is going to live there for a while when she comes home next month.”
“I thought she’d stay here, with us.”
Victoria smiled. “Dad told me you were thinking that, and he said no way in hell was he going to share his time alone with you.” She raised an eyebrow. “I’d let Carmen use the old house if I were you.”
Jaqueline blushed.
“Where is Dad anyway?”
“I think he’s at the Santa Monica restaurant today. Do you know that that place alone has practically paid for the construction loans? It’s done better than the Newport Beach restaurant.”
“Well, the land alone cost him a pretty penny in Newport.”
“The investors are very pleased,” Jaqueline said. “I don’t think he’s going to have any problem when it comes time to build the other restaurants.”
Victoria opened the bottle of suntan lotion and spread some on her legs. “He told me. How do you feel about him planning to open even more restaurants?”
“I asked him to wait a year. We just got these open a few months ago, and I want to make sure, you know, things continue to go well.”
Victoria knew her father probably wasn’t thrilled about that. “Hmm.”
“He told me that was a great idea. That he was happy to sit here on the beach for a year and enjoy all his good fortune. And we’re going to take a month off to visit Argentina.” Jaqueline sighed—a content, happy sigh that said everything was finally right.
Victoria smiled and stared out at the vast sea spread before her. Her parents hadn’t crossed an ocean to build their life in America. No weeks on a ship, experiencing seasickness and disease. Their struggles had started once they got here. Would they make it? Would they be accepted into this new society? Would their dreams really come true, or would it become a nightmare? And like all immigrants, they’d suffered and almost lost the spirit that had brought them to this land to begin with. But they had also survived and had helped build a better America. She, as their daughter and as a proud American, benefited from their hard work and sacrifices, and was grateful. So very grateful.
Dear Reader,
The Argentine Club that sets the stage for much of this book became a catalyst, a sort of time machine for me to take a trip back to my own childhood. I have vague memories of my family attending “the Argentine club.” We didn’t go often, because my mother didn’t like going. She shared with me recently that the women sat around gossiping most of the time, or trying to one-up each other. My mother didn’t find a sisterhood, but rather, as she says, a bunch of silly women she’d rather avoid.
My father, however, must have felt a different type of connection. He enjoyed being around other Argentines. He wanted to be reminded of his birth country, which he missed as if he’d left behind part of his soul. I remember many Friday evenings when he would go to the club to play cards, then return Saturday morning while my mother was cleaning the house and my brother and I were watching morning cartoons. If he won money (because they played for money), he’d walk in and toss twenty-dollar bills into the air and watch them rain down on us. My brother and I would excitedly pick up the bills as if they were candy that had spilled from a piñata. We were usually allowed to keep one each. If he lost, he walked in quietly, sat at the kitchen table, and talked to my mother about his night.
I wanted to share with you that “the club” was a part of my life; however, it wasn’t the central part, as it is for my characters. The club in the story comes from my imagination. Bits and pieces that I remember combined with, perhaps, wishful thinking. For instance, children didn’t learn Spanish or have a school at the club—I wish we had. We ran wild around and between the tables set up in the main and only hall.
I don’t know the exact history of the club, but I do know that it disbanded eventually. Today there exists an Argentine Association of LA in Burbank, which holds weekly dinner shows. I took my mother to a dinner event when I was doing research for this book. I thought she’d enjoy it. Good food, tangos, and jokes that went way over my head but she found funny because she connected with Argentine humor. We had a nice night out together, and she indulged me as I drove around Burbank taking pictures. Since I grew up in the San Fernando Valley of California, and I know there actually are large concentrations of Argentines in that area, I knew I wanted this to be the setting for my story. But I do want to make it clear that my fictional club is not intended to resemble what exists today.
As a child, like Eric in my story I didn’t see the point in getting together with a bunch of strangers only because they happened to have been born in the same country as my parents. I didn’t “get” my father. I’m happy to say that today I do. I don’t belong to an Argentine club, but I am a member of a number of Latina organizations. And I’m passionate about writing stories with Latino characters.
I think the beautiful multicultural fabric of our country makes us such an amazingly wonderful and strong nation. I’m glad that we have groups that keep bits of foreign cultures alive. I love Cinco de Mayo fiestas, and St. Patrick’s Day parades, and churches that hold services in various languages.
I love my memories of the real Argentine club that helped make me aware of my roots in a minor way, and I hope that you enjoy being a part of my fictional club.
Reading Group Guide
The Argentine Club was the glue that kept all these people together. What do you feel groups such as these do for a community? Does it keep immigrants from becoming Americanized? Or help make the transition easier?
Every character in the story was seeking, in some way, to fulfill the American dream. Is the dream still a possibility in this country? If no, what has changed? If yes, is it still the same dream that early immigrants came to this country to achieve?
How do you think Victoria’s relationship with her father affected her blossoming relationship with Eric?
In Latin America it is not unusual for a child to live with his or her family until marriage, which could be in their thirties. Do you see a problem with children staying to live with their parents longer?
As mothers, our jo
bs are to help our children mature and prepare them to live life on their own. Did Jaqueline perform this job well? Did Lucia?
What do you think caused Victoria’s weight issues? Was it simply a lifetime of unhealthy habits, or was there another, more emotional cause? How do you feel that her decision to follow her dreams helped her shed the extra pounds she carried?
Did Victoria hold traditional Latino values? How did they affect the way she lived her life? What are traditional Latino values? Is there such a thing?
Independence is one of the themes of the book. Are we ever truly independent or is that a myth?
Guía del Grupo de la Lectura
El club de Argentina era el cemento que guardaba a toda esta gente junta. ¿Qué hacen grupos como éstos para la comunidad? ¿Impiden a los inmigrantes a integrarse? ¿O hacen la transición más fácil?
Cada carácter en la historia intentaba, de cierta manera, satisfacer el sueño americano. ¿Es el sueño americano todavía una posibilidad en este país? ¿Si no, qué ha cambiado? ¿Si sí, es el mismo sueño que los inmigrantes de antes soñaban?
¿Cree usted que la relación de Victoria con su padre afectó la relación de ella con Eric? ¿Cómo?
En la América latina no es insólito que un niño viva con su familia hasta su matrimonio, que podría ser a sus treinta años. ¿Ve usted un problema con los niños viviendo con sus padres por mucho más tiempo?
Como madres, nuestros trabajos son ayudar a nuestros niños madurar y prepararlos para vivir sus vidas propias. ¿Realizaron bien este trabajo Jacqueline y Lucia?
¿Qué causó la preocupación acerca del peso de Victoria? ¿Era simplemente un curso de la vida de hábitos malsanos, o había otra causa más emocional? ¿Cómo le ayudó a perder sus libras adicionales esta decisión de seguir sus sueños?
¿Tiene Victoria valores tradicionales latinos? Si sí, ¿cómo afectaron la manera en que ella vivió su vida? ¿Cuáles son algunos valores tradicionales latinos? ¿Hay todavía tal cosas?
La independencia es uno de los temas del libro. ¿Es posible ser realmente independiente, o es un mito?