Evenings at the Argentine Club Read Online Free Page B

Lucia should have been an actress because she lived her life pretending. Pretending her life was perfect.
    She pulled Eric into the crowd, talking to everyone around her, calling for someone to bring him a plate of food. He offered a gorgeous smile as he shook hands and accepted hugs or kisses. Lucia led him to their family table, and Mr. Ortelli, who had been fetched from the patio, joined them. As if Eric were a celebrity or a war veteran come home, people passed by their table to welcome him—though Victoria knew it was more out of curiosity and nosiness than anything else.
    “Can you believe this?” Jaqueline whispered, having come to stand beside her.
    “What’s he doing here?”
    “I don’t know, but to show up just like that, without warning, to such a public place. He has no shame,” Jaqueline said.
    “Mrs. Ortelli said she knew,” Victoria offered. Often the target of club criticism herself, she felt a small need to defend Eric.
    “Well what else is she going to say? Pobre Lucia.”
    Saving face. Such an Argentine trait. Too proud to say, “My son’s a jerk.” All around them people were doing the same kind of whispering as Victoria and Jaqueline.
    “Let’s go say hello and welcome him home,” her mother continued, grabbing Victoria by the elbow.
    Victoria frowned. “No, give them some privacy.”
    “It would be rude not to say something. Vamos.”
    Jaqueline pulled Victoria’s arm and led her to the Ortelli table. “Eric, querido, what an amazing surprise,” Jaqueline said, and hugged him.
    Eric stood for the hundredth time and opened his arms to Jaqueline, dropping a kiss on her cheek. Then without pausing he said hi and kissed Victoria. Then he took his seat again.
    Victoria checked him out. He’d grown thicker, more muscular, more solid. Still just as handsome as he’d been in high school. He sipped his wine with a relaxed arrogance that didn’t seem quite proper, considering the commotion he’d caused.
    “How have you been, Victoria?” Again, the question was one that would make sense if he’d been away a few months, maybe a year. But for someone who’d disappeared seven years ago, his attitude seemed too casual.
    “Where should I start?” she said.
    He chuckled. “Wherever you’d like. Have a seat. Do you mind, Mami?”
    Now he was asking if his mother minded what he did?
    “No, but you eat. Your food is getting cold.”
    “I’m not hungry.” He eased the plate away. “I didn’t come to eat, anyway. I actually went home, and when no one was thereI remembered it was Sunday and figured you’d be here.”
    “It’s not only Sunday,” Victoria said. “It’s Independence Day.”
    He frowned. “Oh, in Argentina. That’s right.” He glanced around. “No wonder all this.”
    No one said anything in response. To forget July 9 was too big an insult to comment on.
    “I was actually just leaving,” Victoria said. “So enjoy your dinner.”
    Jaqueline gave her a scowl. “You can stay a little longer. Talk to Eric for a while.”
    “We shouldn’t intrude,” Victoria said.
    Antonio Ortelli, who had walked in from the grills with a surprised look on his face, had hugged his son, then sat to let his wife handle all the questions. Now he stood. “We have time to catch up when we get home.” He patted Eric on the shoulder. “Let’s continue to enjoy the celebration.”
    “Of course,” Lucia said, and though she didn’t appear to want to let Eric out of her sight for a second, she also stood. “I’m going to go finish up in the kitchen and let you get reacquainted with your friends. Your father’s right, we’ll have you all to ourselves later. There’s plenty of time.”
    Eric squeezed her fingers with his large, dark hands. The guy had a spectacular tan the color of dark, golden honey.
    “All the time in the world,” he said, before his mother and Jaqueline returned to the kitchen. Lucia looked back at him twice as if she were afraid he’d disappear.
    Faced