Nacho Figueras Presents

by Jessica Whitman

  “Stay,” she told the sisters as she headed the opposite direction out of the barn, toward the house.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  The boy had some natural talent, thought Enzo, as he watched Max bob up and down on Tango’s back. They’d had to bring the stirrups all the way up, and his little legs barely straddled the pony’s broad back, but he was keeping his balance and managing to hold on.

  “Max,” asked Enzo, “have you ridden a pony off its lead yet?”

  “No,” said Max, his big eyes shining under the visor of the black riding helmet he was wearing. “Can I?”

  “I think maybe you are ready,” said Enzo, unhooking the lead but keeping his hand on Tango’s bridle. “Just put your hands like this.” He placed the boy’s hands on the reins. “Keep them soft. You do not want to pull hard or it will hurt Tango’s mouth. Keep your back nice and straight, and when you want to go right or left, you can tug the reins just a tiny bit in the direction you want to go. Just a little tug—Tango will understand you. You do not need to pull hard.”

  Enzo could hear the boy’s loud, excited breathing. “Okay, ready?”

  Max nodded and Enzo let go of the bridle but kept close and walked alongside them just in case.

  “I’m doing it!” said Max. He sounded amazed. “I’m steering the horse!”

  “¡Excellente!” said Enzo. “Let’s go once more around the ring and then we will quit for the day.”

  He watched the little boy with pleasure. His glasses were slipping down his nose, his cheeks were pink with excitement, his penny-bright curls stuck out from under the helmet, his skinny little arms were clenched and stiff and held uncomfortably high, but he had a huge smile plastered on his face.

  Enzo’s chest got tight. He could only imagine how hard it must have been for Noni to lose him, what a gift it must feel to have him back in her life.

  He had refused Pilar at first when she had asked him to come give Max some lessons. He’d claimed he was too busy, suggested that one of the grooms start him out instead.

  “Well, perhaps that would work if you had not abandoned us,” said Pilar, carefully examining Mark’s new stables, “but the grooms are all too busy picking up the slack you left behind.”

  Enzo exhaled in exasperation. “The barn has more than fifty workers, Pilar. I find it hard to believe that I have left such a huge hole.”

  “Well, you did,” said Pilar shortly. “Besides, I want this boy to have a real teacher, not just a groom.”

  Enzo looked at her, puzzled. “But why do you care? Who is this boy to you?”

  Pilar raised her eyebrows and shrugged. “I like him. He makes me laugh. Besides, this is not about who the boy is to me. This is about who the boy will be to you.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “When you and Noni reconcile. You will need to know Max.”

  Enzo made a noise of frustration. “We were never together, Pilar. How could there be a reconciliation?”

  “Tsk tsk tsk, there you go, lying again.”

  Enzo turned to her. “Why are you getting involved? You don’t even like Noni.”

  Pilar nodded, considering. “You know, that used to be true. I used to look at her and all I could see was Carlos. And I am not saying that it is very different now. Most of the time that is still the situation. I do not like her. But you know”—she paused and leaned over a stall door, calling a pony over to her with a little whistle—“when I was married and the boys were very young, Carlos was almost never around. He was always traveling, and even when he was home, he was usually out late or, you know, with one of his women.”

  Enzo blinked, surprised that Pilar would speak about this so casually.

  She looked at him, amused. “What? You think I did not know he had women?” She blew out a little huff of air. “Believe me, I knew. Anyway, sometimes when I see Antonia with this boy, I see someone else. Not just Carlos. Maybe I see a little bit of myself, honestly. She works so hard and she worries so much, and she has no man to help her. And that reminds me of me. Which does not mean I like her. It just means maybe I understand her a little bit.”

  She looked at Enzo intently. “I had a long, unhappy marriage, Enzo. I think you know something about that, no? Unhappy marriages?”

  Enzo smiled grimly in response.

  “I stayed in that marriage because I loved my children and I thought I was doing what was best for them. And who knows?” She shrugged. “Maybe I was wrong to do that, or maybe I was right. But I was never happy, and I would not wish that on anyone. Not even someone I do not like.”

  She looked away from him, leaning over and scratching the pony’s neck. “Me comprendes?”

  “Yes,” he said quietly. “I understand.”

  * * *

  Antonia huffed up the drive, filled with self-righteous anger. Pilar had finally gone too far, and Noni was going to find her and tell her so. No holding back. No keeping her temper. The old woman had no right to meddle in Noni’s life.

  She crashed through the kitchen door, fully expecting to find Pilar in her usual place at the kitchen table, cup of tea in one hand, a book in the other.

  But the kitchen was empty.

  “Pilar?” Noni called. She checked the dining room and the sunroom. They were empty, too. She turned and walked up the stairs to the second floor.

  Pilar’s bedroom door was ajar, and Noni heard a rustle from inside. She thrust through it, not knocking. “Pilar, I have some things I need to—Oh my gosh, whoa!”

  There were Pilar and Hendy, in bed, under the covers, looking up at her.

  “Oh! Oh my God! Sorry! Sorry!” Noni threw herself out of the room and flattened herself against the hallway, covering her eyes with her hands. “I didn’t see anything! I swear!” she called back, her voice cracking with embarrassment.

  She heard Hendy’s dry little chuckle, followed by Pilar’s somewhat more exasperated voice. “Antonia,” she said imperiously. “Come back in here.”

  Noni shook her head frantically. “That’s okay! I’m good!”

  Pilar sighed, annoyed. “Antonia. Come in. Now.”

  Noni squeezed her eyes shut, opened them again, grabbed the door frame, and then slowly inched her way back into the room. She kept her eyes on the floor. “Um. Hi,” she said.

  “Ay, dios mio,” muttered Pilar. “You can look at us. We are perfectly respectable.”

  Noni gradually slid her eyes back in their direction. They were both sitting up in bed, the blankets pulled up to their shoulders. Noni gave a sigh of relief. “I’m so sorry,” she said again. “I had no idea that Hendy was here.”

  “He just got back,” said Pilar, patting his arm affectionately. “It was a surprise.”

  “Straight off the plane,” said Hendy happily.

  “Does this mean that Jandro and Sebastian are home, too?” asked Noni.

  “Sí,” said Pilar. “They’re stopping in the city first, but they’ll all be up later tonight.”

  “Are they home for good? Did they find a fourth player?”

  Hendy shook his head. “We saw some excellent prospects but haven’t made any offers just yet.”

  “So why did everyone come home, then?”

  “Why, darling girl,” said Hendy, “your thirtieth birthday is this weekend. Did you think we’d let you celebrate without us?”

  Noni froze, a lump in her throat. “Oh, wow, you guys didn’t have to do that. I mean—”

  Pilar rolled her eyes. “Do you think I raised a couple of chimps? Of course your brothers will be here for your birthday. Do not make plans for Saturday. It’s all been taken care of. Now, get out of my room.”

  “Okay,” said Noni, “thanks.” She knew she was grinning foolishly, but no one had ever planned a birthday party for her before. “I’ll just, uh, keep Max around the barn for a bit longer.”

  Pilar shot a look at Hendy from under her lashes and gave him a sultry smile. “Sí, why don’t you do that?”

  Noni stepped
out the door.

  “Oh, Antonia!”

  She stuck her head back in the room. “Yes?”

  “What did you come storming into my bedroom for to begin with?”

  “Ah,” said Noni, still smiling, “nothing. It was nothing, Pilar.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  The house was full of family the next day: Alejandro and Georgia and little Tomás, Sebastian and Kat, and it looked like Hendy would be staying on as well.

  Before breakfast, Noni, afraid the house might be too crowded, offered to take Max and find another place to stay.

  Pilar just glared at her in response.

  “You think my home cannot accommodate nine people? In 1932, this house once comfortably boarded all the members of the U.S. Senate and ten congressmen on top of that. My dining room table alone seats twenty-five and that is without the extra leaf. Now stop being ridiculous and go fetch Max before your café con leche gets cold.”

  Max was racing around his room with four-year-old Tomás. They were sharing the room.

  “Just like Tío Sebastian and Papí used to,” said Tomás, who was obviously quite enamored with the older boy. “It’s like we are brothers, too!”

  Antonia smiled nervously at that description. “Time to get dressed, Max,” she said. “Pilar has breakfast on the table.”

  Max obediently went to the bureau and pulled out a T-shirt and shorts. He unself-consciously took off his pajamas and stood in his underwear for a moment. Noni felt a pang in her heart at the sight of his skinny little bare chest. He looked like a featherless baby bird.

  “Noni,” he said, “Tomás calls Pilar Abuela. Should I call her that, too?”

  “What? Oh no, that means ‘grandma.’ Pilar isn’t your grandma. Put your clothes on, honey.”

  Max slowly pulled on his shirt and shorts. “Well, she kind of is, isn’t she? I mean, she is the mom of your brothers, and you are kind of my mom, right? Since my real mom is dead.”

  Noni took a deep breath. “Oh. Oh, buddy. It’s a little more complicated than that.”

  “I mean, there’s also Mama Cecelia. She’s kind of my mom, too.”

  Noni froze. “Wait, who?”

  Max struggled to zip up his shorts. “Mama Cecelia. Daddy and I lived with her for a long time.” He got the zipper up. “But we don’t anymore.”

  “Huh,” said Noni, but before she could pursue the conversation further, Sebastian swept in and grabbed both boys up into his arms. “¡Desayuno! Come on, muchachos! Abuela says breakfast is getting cold!”

  They both yelled in glee, happily pounding Sebastian on the head and shoulders as he carried them out of the room.

  Noni hesitated in the doorway for a moment.

  “You too, Noni,” Seb called back to her. “Mamá baked media lunas. I can’t remember the last time she made such a fuss.”

  Noni smiled and went downstairs.

  * * *

  Enzo ate breakfast on the patio of a café in the village, content to sit with his book and coffee and bask in the perfect Hamptons weather. Mark had gone back to California for a business trip, and much to Enzo’s chagrin, he had given the entire team the long weekend off while he was gone.

  “What?” he’d said when Enzo had tried to suggest they could practice without him. “Practice without the patron? Come on, that’s crazy talk!” He’d winked at Enzo. “Besides, they’re all already so much better than me. Last thing I need is them improving even more while I’m gone.”

  The waiter brought Enzo his goat cheese and spinach omelet and he put down his book. He watched the street as he ate. He thought he’d never get used to the sight of all the Ferraris and Porsches and Maseratis that inched by in the slow Hamptons traffic. The summer people were tanned, toned, and casually (if impeccably) dressed and all seemed to drive cars more suited to Kuwaiti princes (of which there were actually more than a few) than the laid-back villagers they liked to pretend to be.

  Still, Enzo was comfortable here. Aside from the cars, it was actually less flashy than Wellington. He liked the little villages and their immaculate beaches. He liked the pretty shingled cottages and neat little dooryard gardens. He liked that he never had a bad meal, and he liked the sunset over the sound and the lively nightlife. And people knew horses here, of course. Which was always a good thing.

  He finished his breakfast and looked at his watch. Only nine in the morning. He considered what he wanted to do with the rest of his day. He wasn’t used to having this kind of free time on his hands.

  Pilar had invited him to Noni’s birthday party on Saturday and he was still deciding whether he’d go. Antonia had been strangely distant with him after Max’s lesson the day before. He’d told her how well Max had done, and she had just smiled and nodded politely, then asked Max if he wanted to go into the village with her to get some ice cream, thanked Enzo, and left. It didn’t even seem to occur to her to invite him along.

  He wondered if this was how it would have to be with them from now on—always at arm’s length.

  Enzo paid his bill and decided that whether he was going to the party or not, he should buy Noni a gift. It was her thirtieth birthday, after all, and she was, if nothing else, still his friend.

  At least, he thought with a little shiver, he hoped that to be true.

  Chapter Thirty

  Breakfast was loud and chaotic and messy and completely wonderful. Pilar, along with Liz, the chef from the yacht, had cooked up an elaborate meal of Argentine pastries and fresh fruit, eggs prepared to order, and succulent sausages from the farm down the road. The maté was poured and platter after platter of food passed around the table as Sebastian and Alejandro entertained everyone with stories of all the terrible players they had seen in London.

  “Oh!” laughed Sebastian. “Jandro, tell him about that fat Scot who fell off his pony at the Ascot Park game. I thought he must have been a patron—no offense, Hendy—but no, he was a three goal player!”

  “I think his papá bought him the team,” said Alejandro with a grin. He was dandling Tomás on one knee and trying to get him to eat a forkful of eggs.

  “No,” said Georgia, who was seven months pregnant and still in her pajamas, “I asked around. It turns out he’s very closely related to the queen. Did you know that he offered to fund the team in full if we would let him on?”

  Sebastian looked at his brother, one eyebrow raised. “You failed to mention this to me, hermano.”

  Alejandro shrugged. “If you truly want to hand the team over to a fat Scot who falls off his horse, I am more than willing to discuss it.”

  Both of Noni’s dogs were lying under the table. One growled at Pilar’s dogs, which were sitting patiently by the kitchen door.

  “¡Basta!” said Pilar firmly.

  To Noni’s astonishment, the dog stopped growling. Pilar reached down and scratched her ear. “They just need a firm hand,” she said casually.

  “So, Kat,” said Hendy, “did you finish your script?”

  Kat, Sebastian’s wife, laughed. “Don’t you know it’s impolite to ask a writer if she’s finished yet? You might as well ask me what I weigh.”

  “Sixty-eight kilos,” said Sebastian, deadpan.

  Kat shot him a deadly look and hit him with her napkin.

  Noni sighed happily. It was everything she had always dreamed it would be. She’d had meals with her brothers and their families before, of course, but never in their home like this, and never with Pilar.

  Noni realized that Pilar was the heart of everything. She joined in occasionally, but always with an eye to making sure that the food was kept warm and that there was a seemingly endless supply of it, that the table was set beautifully, that there were fresh flowers and linen napkins, that the coffee was served hot.

  Max spilled his juice and Pilar had it wiped up so quickly that half the table didn’t even notice it had happened.

  Pilar was happy, thought Noni. She was happy in a way that Noni had never seen from her before. She beamed at her sons
and their wives, she cooed over Tomás and Max, and every so often she would sneak her hand over to Hendy and gently squeeze his arm or rest her hand on his. When Noni told a little story about one of the ponies in the barn that seemed to have become emotionally attached to a billy goat, she was shocked to look across the table and see that Pilar was smiling rather fondly at her.

  Granted, Pilar immediately followed up that smile by sharply saying that Noni should know better than to let prized ponies mix with an animal that had horns. But she had, at least for a moment, definitely smiled at Noni.

  The only thing missing was Enzo. Noni could just imagine him at the table, fitting in so easily with everyone else. He would play with the children and tease her brothers and gallantly compliment Pilar’s cooking. He would ask Alejandro about Valentina’s budding dance career in California. He would ask after Hendy’s knee, question Georgia about the health of the ponies, and make Kat tell all the latest Hollywood gossip. Noni imagined him turning to her and giving her that slow, devastating smile—the one that melted her from the inside out, the one that held so much promise for later, once he got her alone.

  Antonia sighed to herself, longing for him.

  Then her eyes rested on Max as he munched on a media luna pastry and happily gazed around the table, a smear of chocolate on his cheek.

  Jacob needed to have a place at this table, she reminded herself. Not Enzo.

  She sat for a moment, trying and momentarily failing to imagine how Jacob would fit in.

  She shook her head. He would be fine, she reassured herself. Everyone always liked Jacob. He was a great father, a good man, and a brilliant artist. What was not to like?

  After breakfast, Jandro and Georgia wanted to go see the ponies, and Sebastian, Kat, and Pilar offered to take the boys down to the beach. Noni decided she would go to the barn first and then join up with everyone at the beach.

  “Oh, and tomorrow, Noni,” said Georgia before they all left, “Pilar has instructed Kat and me to get you out of the house. So we’ve booked a spa day.”