Evenings at the Argentine Club Read Online Free

home to Argentina and buy a mansion in Buenos Aires.
    Somehow, at one of the neighborhood bailes, she’d caught his attention on the dance floor, and he’d become determined to get her to date him. Every night, he’d show up at her apartment and call her, beg for her to come to the balcony and talk to him. He’d read her poetry, sing tangos full of passion, and call out his undying love.
    Jaqueline’s father cursed at him and told him to go home. He threatened to go down stairs and bash Victor’s head in. But Victor kept coming back, not intimidated or thwarted by parental disapproval. He had even shown up at her high school and begged her to have a cup of coffee with him, go for a walk in el centro, sit on a park bench and tell him her dreams.
    His charm and boldness had swept her off her feet.
    She soon learned that Victor was a man who got what he wanted. And that he had been serious about traveling to the United States.
    “We’ll get married and go together,” he’d promised.
    “Victor, I can’t leave my family, my life, for that kind of adventure,” Jaqueline had said. “Forget all that. We can have a great life here.”
    But Victor couldn’t let it go. It was his dream, and soon it became her dream. They’d gotten married two years later and received a big send-off by all their friends, who wished them a great life in the faraway land so full of promise.
    Everything was new and exciting. Starting with the plane ride. Jaqueline had never been on an airplane before. She marveled at everything—the silverware, the small pillows, the way the chair tipped back. “See how little the houses look,” she had said excitedly, as she held Victor’s hand.
    He had smiled, caressing her with those sexy eyes of his, holding his excitement in check even if she could feel it in his touch. “We’re really doing it,” he’d said.
    “Do you think it will be very different over there?”
    “Maybe.”
    “I’m scared.”
    He’d put his arm around her and said, “Don’t be, my love. I’ll always take care of you. I promise.”
    And he had. But at some point, buried under the stresses of work and raising children, they’d drifted apart. He might have stopped loving her. Or maybe she’d stopped loving him.
    Her children had become her entire world. But now, they no longer needed her. And Jaqueline had a vacant hole in her chest that she couldn’t seem to fill.
    “I’ve got to go get the meat ready,” he said.
    “Then I guess you’d better go.”
    He nodded and hurried outside.
    By nine that night, everyone who was going to show up for the July 9 celebration had arrived. Victoria sat down to a glass of wine and breathed a sigh of exhaustion, surveying all her hard work and feeling satisfied with her efforts. She’d been able to put aside her concerns about her father’s revelation and get to work. She had dressed the tables, made sure the place settings were perfectly arranged using the club’s best china, and set up the gardenia center pieces. At each end of the stage she placed three-foot decorative vases, and she’d instructed the three-man band—consisting of a keyboardist, a violinist, and an accordianist—on the songs that had been requested by their members so they could incorporate those into their performance. She had the guys put up the banner over the stage, called the photographer, who was late, checked on the food, and passed the cooking on to the men, including her father, who would handle all the barbecuing. In the kitchen, the women had salads and desserts under control.
    They didn’t even pay her to work this hard. She must be insane. Well, to be fair, no one got paid. This was a labor of love. They purposely never had an event catered, preferring to do it themselves the way they would have in Argentina. So in a way, she looked at it as if she were serving 250 members of her extended family.
    Her cell phone alerted her that her sister was calling. Victoria couldn’t talk to Carmen and