South Beach Love Page 2

  And if she did expand the business, she could kiss her personal life goodbye.

  With a heavy sigh, Sara set aside those thoughts and started prepping the menus for the next few days. She’d have to have all her ducks in a row if she was going to keep her promise to her brother and that meant being uber organized and talking to her partner to see what could be done to free her and some of her staff for Samantha’s party.

  It was going to turn out perfectly, with zero hiccups if she could help it. The best quinceañera ever…one that the guests would remember for some time to come.

  Chapter 2

  Angelica Rodriguez rushed toward the cafeteria, her heels tapping out a staccato beat on the marble of the hallway floors. Her friends would already be waiting for her at their usual lunch table. Located next to the windows that faced a stand of palm trees and the bay, it was a prime place to eat and only the coolest kids shared those prized tables.

  The room was packed and as Angelica rushed in, heads turned and whispers chased her. Her confusion only increased as she caught sight of her two best friends huddled over papers they guiltily tucked away into their notebooks as she reached the table.

  “Que pasa?” she asked, eyes narrowed as she examined the apprehensive looks on Maya and Daisy’s faces.

  “Nothing.”

  “Nada,” they responded, almost in unison, but Angelica knew something was definitely up.

  She jammed her hands on her hips and cocked her head at a defiant angle. “You know you chicas can’t keep a secret from me.”

  Maya, the more pliable of her friends, reluctantly opened her notebook and pulled out a pale pink envelope. She placed it on the table and slowly slid it across to Angelica.

  Angelica peered at Maya’s name in flowery script and then gingerly picked up the envelope. A sudden hush in the cafeteria made her pause and look around. Like meerkats coming out of their burrows, her classmates had perked up and focused their attention on her.

  So not good. Angelica sucked in a breath to brace herself. She withdrew the notecard in a pale pink that matched the envelope. The embossed gold lettering in the center simply said, “You’re invited…”

  She flipped open the card and couldn’t believe what she was reading. Another quinceañera – from her biggest rival, Samantha Kelly, no less – and just a day before her quinceañera. It wasn’t even close to Samantha’s birthday. She was almost certain that Samantha had a summer birthday when school was out of session.

  Whirling, the invite fisted in her hand, she marched toward Samantha’s table where her nemesis sat with her friends. A tight smile graced her rival’s lips as Angelica approached and slapped the invitation down on the table.

  She crossed her arms, cocked a hip and said, “Really? The day before mine? It’s not even close to your birthday!”

  “Sorry, but it was the only day we could get. By the way, here’s your invite,” Samantha said, whipping an envelope out of her knapsack, and handing it to Angelica.

  Anger clouded her vision for a millisecond before she reined it in and plastered a smile on her face. She couldn’t let everyone see how upset she truly was. “Gracias, Samantha. No sabia que eres Latina.” She’d said the words in Spanish as a subtle jab, but they were true all the same. She genuinely hadn’t known the other girl had a Latino background—the name “Samantha Kelly” wasn’t exactly typical.

  Samantha’s smile tightened even more, and she tilted her chin up in challenge. “Mi mama es de Cubaa.” A Cuban mother explained it. Well, explained the choice to have a quinceañera, anyway. Nothing could explain her terrible timing.

  “Great. Wonderful. Thanks,” Angelica bit out, spun, and stomped to where her friends sat, expectant looks on their faces.

  When she neared the table, she snapped her hand up like a cop directing traffic. “Not one word. Not one,” she warned, still flummoxed by Samantha’s actions. To keep the discussion from going there, she said, “Are you guys going to soccer tryouts this afternoon?”

  Maya grimaced and shrugged negligently. “Probably even though I’m sure I won’t make the team.”

  “Way to be positive,” said Daisy as she stuffed a potato chip into her mouth.

  Maya chuckled and said, “I am being positive. I’m positive I won’t make it.”

  Angelica likewise laughed and wagged her head. “At least you’re trying. You never know what will happen.”

  “I know that you and Samantha will make the team,” Maya said.

  Daisy jumped in with, “And you’ll have to kick her butt to be the team captain again.”

  “Again and again,” Angelica murmured. It seemed as if she and Samantha were always battling for the top spot at everything. Soccer team captain. Which Angelica had won last year. Student class president which Samantha had won earlier that semester. Class valedictorian which was most definitely up for grabs.

  Best quinceañera ever? she wondered. For sure it would be her quinceañera!

  Tony peered past the crowds lining the sidewalk in the airport’s pick-up area, ignoring the bright plumage of the tourists in their tropical-colored shirts, the locals in their everyday T-shirts and shorts, and the fashionistas who paraded along the curb in designer clothing as if the area was a Milanese runway. He worried that he’d be hard-pressed to find his petite sister, but then a tricked-out lime green Jeep whipped up to the curb and stopped with the squeal of chrome-rimmed tires.

  The driver honked and waved. He did a doubletake, wondering if he was seeing things, until his sister hopped down from the Jeep and emerged through the crowd like Moses parting the Red Sea. She launched herself into his arms, nearly knocking him over with the force of the embrace.

  “¡Hermanito! I can’t believe you’re really here,” she said, then stepped back and examined him as she settled onto four-inch-high heels that still only brought her up to his chin. A stylish romper in a bright floral pattern – a shocking deviation from her usual power suit - complimented her Cuban curves; bare, toned arms; and the heavy gold chain and medallion around her neck. Her thick dark hair was in messy knot on top of her head, and she had the barest hint of laugh lines around her mouth and eyes.

  He raised his brows in disbelief at her statement. “¿De verdad? Even though you called every day until I finally said ‘Yes’? And don’t you roll your eyes at me,” he said as he circled his index finger around her expressive face.

  Sylvia laughed, grabbed hold of his hand, and hauled him toward the Jeep. She might be tiny, but she is mighty, he thought as they wove through the crowd to her car.

  “Admit it, Tony. You wanted to come home. You missed us. You missed Miami. You missed me most of all,” she teased and pinched his cheek in that annoying way she always had since they were kids.

  At the curb, she jerked open the tailgate of the Wrangler with one powerful pull.

  “You got three of the four right, hermanita,” he kidded as he hoisted his suitcase to load it into the cargo area of the Jeep.

  “When did you get this?” he asked as he walked to the passenger side, thinking that despite the bright color, a sure Sylvia trademark if there ever was one, it just wasn’t what he would have guessed to be his sister’s kind of ride. He couldn’t imagine her pulling up to an important business lunch in this beast.

  “A few weeks ago, after someone totaled my sedan,” she said as she climbed into the driver’s side. “I told myself no one is going to mess with me in this,” she added with a definitive bop of her head that shook loose some strands of hair from her top knot.

  “No one with half a brain would mess with you anyway, Sylvita.”

  She expertly pulled away from the curb, gold bangles dancing on her wrists as she threaded into a narrow opening in the traffic. Her very feminine hands, sporting multiple rings and bright pink nail polish, looked incongruous on the masculine leather of the steering wheel.

  His
sister shot him a look her eyes wide. “If that’s the case, why did it take you so long to agree to come and visit?”

  He shrugged. “I had things to get in order. It’s not easy to just up and leave the restaurant for a month.”

  “And I appreciate that you did. Hopefully you’ll also get to relax a little while you’re here,” she said, navigating through traffic like a Formula One race car driver. Even though his seat belt held him securely, Tony braced one hand on the dash and gripped the console with the other to steady himself in the seat. He sucked in a breath as they barely avoided the bumper of one car. His heartbeat jumped in his chest as Sylvia accelerated past a lumbering bus, pressing him back into the seat with almost G force strength.

  “I could start relaxing right now if you’d just slow down,” he said and muttered a prayer after a near miss with another of the airport buses.

  With wave of her hand that had the bangles musically dancing, she said, “¡Calmate! You’ll be home before you know it.”

  “I’ll be dead before I know it,” he mumbled to himself. He finally relaxed as they left the congestion of the airport behind on the highway to Miami’s Little Havana. Their parents had refused to leave the area even though all the kids had moved out to the suburbs along with a good number of their friends.

  “Mami and papi are so excited that you’re staying with them, but if they get to be too much you can always come stay with me,” Sylvia said as she shot him a quick look.

  It was all Tony could do to hold back his laughter. If anyone was going to be too much it was Sylvia. She had likely planned every day of his stay in the same way she would prepare for a courtroom trial.

  “Angelica is excited also!” she forged on without giving him a chance to speak. “We can hardly wait to see what ideas you have for the menu. It’s so important for Angelica, Tony.”

  “And not for you?” he asked, peering at his sister. More than him and Javi, Sylvia had always needed attention and affirmation.

  With a delay that roused worry again, she said, “I’m done trying to please everyone, Tony. Now I want to please myself, without worrying about what everyone else thinks. But Angelica is in that difficult teen mode. You know, All Drama All the Time.”

  “And it’s drama because…?” he asked, emphasizing the question with a lift of his brow.

  “She lost the election for Class President to another girl who is suddenly having a quinceañera the day before Angelica’s. Plus, they’re battling to be captain of the soccer team and class valedictorian.” She sighed. “You know how it is.”

  Tony chuckled and shook his head. “Sorry, but it’s been a long time since I was a hormonal fourteen-year-old girl.”

  Sylvia bopped him on the arm and shot daggers at him with dark brown eyes like his own. “Be serious, Tony. She just wants things to go well. We all do. There will be lots of important people there, so it’ll help Esteban with his real estate business. Mine, too.”

  A social event like this would be a big help in building his reputation and getting some clientele if he decided to relocate to Miami, not that he was really thinking about it. At least not that much. But he had to admit he preferred the warm Miami spring over the chilly one in New York City.

  As they drove the last few miles to Little Havana and his parents’ small cinder block home just off Calle Ocho, he fisted his hands to keep from reaching for his smartphone to check on his employees yet again. Instead, he listened as his sister started listing all they’d have to get done in the short time left before the big event. Luckily his one and only expected contribution was the menu.

  “The theme is Miami Spice. We’re hoping you can do what you do best. Upscale nouvelle Cuban food.”

  “So what I usually do,” he said and wondered why doing the same recipes suddenly didn’t seem so appetizing.

  His sister side-eyed him. “Is everything okay with you?”

  He hesitated for a heartbeat, but this was his sister. The one who, despite her need for attention, always seemed to know what was right for her loved ones. Who would fight tooth and nail to make things right for them, no matter what?

  “Things have been rough lately,” he reluctantly admitted.

  “Financially? Esteban and I could help you out, sabes,” she offered without any reluctance.

  He smiled at her generosity. “Gracias, but no. I’m okay that way for now. I broke up with Dina –”

  “Gracias a Dios. She wasn’t the right woman for you,” Sylvia said and made a face. Tony thought that thanking God for the breakup was a little extreme—but his sister tended to be all or nothing when it came to her personal relationships. She loved you or she couldn’t stand you. And Dina…well, Sylvia certainly hadn’t loved her.

  “According to Dina I wasn’t the right man for her. Besides, we were both always working crazy hours on different shifts. It’s hard being involved with another chef. As for the restaurant, lately I’m always getting pulled out of the kitchen for paperwork. That’s just not my thing.”

  “And now I’ve pulled you away for a whole month,” she said, clear regret filling her voice.

  They had just reached their family home and as Sylvia parked and killed the engine, he reached over and hugged her. “I’m glad you did. I think I need the time away even if it’s making me antsy. Now I know how new parents feel the first time they leave their baby with someone else.”

  “It’s not easy, hermanito, but you’ll survive,” she said and returned his embrace.

  Tony had no doubt he would, but would his restaurant? Although he had trained his sous and line chefs well, concern knotted his gut. But he didn’t want his sister worrying about him. “I’ll survive being away from the restaurant, but will I survive your quinceañera?” he kidded.

  The squeak of a screen door and an excited “¡Mijo!” filled the air.

  Sylvia laughed, leaned close, and whispered, “Trust me that the quince will seem like a piece of cake compared to dealing with mami and papi. Prepare for them to lay the worst case of Cuban guilt ever on you.”

  He grimaced and steeled himself because he knew his sister wasn’t wrong. Barely a day after Sylvia had called to ask for his help, his parents had begun phoning and texting repeatedly with reminders about how much they missed him. About how long it had been since he’d been home and how everyone he knew, including Javi, was going to be at Angelica’s quinceañera.

  On that last point, Tony had some doubts. He’d spoken with Javi, who’d said he had something big going on and might not be able to get away. His older brother had been gone from Miami even longer than Tony had.

  “Maybe I should stay with you,” he said until his sister whipped out a big thick binder from the back seat and handed it to him.

  “What’s this?” he asked, staring at the flags and colorful papers making the pink binder bulge almost beyond its capacity.

  “Our plans for the quinceañera. Read them. Memorize them. There will be a quiz in the morning,” she teased and chucked his chin to close the surprised “O” of his mouth.

  “You’re an evil woman, Sylvita.”

  She poked him in the chest, so hard he thought he might find bruises that night. “And don’t you forget that.”

  As if I could, Tony thought and braced himself to greet his parents.

  Chapter 3

  Sara scrutinized the materials that her sister-in-law Dolores had spread across the kitchen table of their modest suburban home in Kendall. Samantha sat next to her looking none too pleased with what were apparently her mother’s plans for the quinceañera. Her niece slouched in the chair; arms held tight across her chest.

  “Do we have to do all this?” Samantha said with a flick of her hand in the direction of the assorted papers and photos.

  “It’s tradition, Samantha. Each step of the quince means something,” her mother said patiently and sat next to Sara to expla
in, emphasizing each stage of the ritual with what looked like family photos.

  “Is this you?” Sara asked, pointing to an image of a young girl who bore a strong resemblance to her sister-in-law, minus the bifocals and stray grey strands that were beginning to emerge in Dolores’s thick mop of nearly black hair. The young girl in the photo was dressed in a lovely ivory gown whose fabric cascaded in gentle waves down to intricate beadwork all along the hem. The sparkle of the tiara gracing her dark head couldn’t compete with the gleaming smile on the young teen’s face. She held a small bouquet of multi-colored roses with bright pink and yellow ribbons that playfully dangled across her slim, almost childish hands.

  “It is. I remember this day so well. I walked into the hall with my court and my chambelan,” Dolores said, her tones dreamy and wistful.

  “Was that your boyfriend?” Sara asked, and reached for another photo of Dolores with an awkward young man in an ill-fitting black suit that looked almost funereal.

  Dolores shook her head. “It was mi primo—my cousin—who offered to be my escort. My parents were very old school and I wasn’t permitted to date.”

  “Los abuelos are so lame,” Samantha said as she leaned forward to look at the photos, her attitude warming as she glanced at the picture of her mother. “I’m glad they moved into the twentieth century so I can date.”

  Dolores jabbed a finger in her daughter’s direction. “Don’t think you’ll be running around all over with boys just because you turned fifteen. Right, Sara?”