Catching the sheen of tears in Julia’s eyes now, Ben wondered if he’d misread her initial reaction.
“Welcome, Señora Fernandez.” He stepped forward, reaching out a hand to shake.
Paula Fernandez gave a double take, her mouth opening and closing before she shot a wide-eyed, questioning look at Julia.
She nodded at her mom. “Sí, it’s him. And yes, I know Martín will flip when he finds out I’ve been working with Ben. That’s partly why I haven’t said anything. I haven’t had time for the twenty questions I know he’d be texting me daily.”
Her mom clasped his hand with both of hers. The coldness of her touch reminded him that coming from the Caribbean, Paula might not own proper Chicago-winter attire. He’d check with Julia and purchase whatever her mom might need while visiting.
“Paula Fernandez,” the older woman introduced herself.
“Encantado de conocerla,” Ben responded.
Paula’s smile brightened at his Spanish. “It is a pleasure to meet you, too, Benjamin. My son Martín, Julia’s youngest brother, is a big fanático of yours.”
“Then I look forward to meeting him.”
“Ay, mi hijo would love to—”
“Hey, Julia!”
“Wow!”
“Check this joint out!”
The chorus of greetings and exclamations of awe as the kids pushed through the glass doors interrupted whatever Julia’s mom had been about to say. The kids poured into the building on a rush of energy.
“Paula, why don’t we check our coats and move into the VIP area.” Laura Taylor, classically fashionable as always in a dark green, floor length gown with long sleeves and a short turtleneck, signaled for the attendant to approach. “I’m sure Julia and Ben have last minute preparations before happy hour begins in thirty minutes. My husband Sherman should be joining us shortly.”
“Can I help you with something, nena?” Paula unbuttoned a hugely oversized coat that swamped her body.
“No, it’s okay, Mami. Go enjoy yourself, we’ll talk later. It’s . . .” Julia’s voice trailed off as the kids swarmed around her, the younger ones clamoring for her attention. “It’s good to see you.”
She hugged her mom one more time, then turned to quiet the group.
While Julia was peppered with questions, Ben caught Laura’s eye. The prominent socialite flashed him a sly thumbs-up.
Last week, when he and Julia had attended an exhibition at the National Museum of Puerto Rican Arts and Culture, the nostalgia in her voice when she talked about her family back home had planted the seed of an idea in Ben’s head.
Later, over coffee and dessert at one of his favorite restaurants, she’d mentioned her desire for her parents to see how she’d taken the lessons learned working with her family’s catering business and applied those skills to her work on the fund-raiser.
The seed of the idea to fly Paula Fernandez in for tonight’s event had blossomed. Ben privately mentioned it to Laura, more to bounce the idea off her than intending for her to take the ball and run with it.
But run she did.
After checking with her daughter-in-law Rosa for help reaching Julia’s mother, Laura had overseen all the flight reservations and logistics. The only snag in the plan had been Lilí not being able to pick up Paula at the airport.
Unflappable as always, Laura had called an audible and opted to pick up Paula herself.
The two older women moved deeper into the hall, so Ben followed Julia and the kids to the private room that had been prepared for them to warm up. Diego, the Chicago policeman who would accompany them on the guitar, and Señor Pérez, the keyboardist, were already there having arrived earlier to help with the sound check.
As he reached the group, Ben noticed the worried glance Julia sent her mother’s way. Her lower lip caught between her teeth.
Unease marched like angry army ants across the back of his neck. Maybe he hadn’t been mistaken earlier.
For some reason, Julia didn’t appear exactly thrilled by Paula’s appearance. If so, no telling what she’d say when she found out the visit had been his idea.
Before Ben’s dread about his surprise potentially blowing up in his face could morph into something bigger, Bernardo sidled up to him.
The boy’s crooked smile, the delighted way he smoothed down the front of his dress shirt and tie, lightened Ben’s mood. Reminding him of the reason they were all here tonight. Another common goal he and Julia shared: helping these kids.
“This place is pretty padre, huh?” Bernardo craned his neck, gawking at the intricate scrollwork carved into the tall ceiling, then gazing out at the ornate decorations blanketing the hall.
Ben grinned back at him. “Yeah, it does look pretty cool. Julia and the team have done an incredible job. And having you kids performing is going to make it that much cooler.”
Bernardo beamed with excitement.
“Okay, everyone, silencio, por favor!” Julia called out when everyone was seated in the rehearsal room. She waited until the chatter had quieted before continuing. “I know we went over this earlier this week, but I’d like to review the program. Make sure everyone remembers when they should join in the singing from their table, then start slowly making their way to the stage.”
Ben stayed off to the side, quietly admiring her ease with the large group of visibly anxious students. Even Rico, their fearless leader, thrummed his fingers on his knee, his expression serious, nodding in agreement as Julia went through their plan.
During the happy hour, the kids would wait here, warming up with the musicians. About forty-five minutes in, they would head to assigned dinner tables where they’d join attendees for the meal and dessert. The idea was for donors to get a chance to meet and interact with some of the kids. See firsthand the individuals they were helping.
After dinner, Ben would head back to the stage, only to be “interrupted” by Rico tapping out a beat on the plenera stashed under his chair. At a nearby table another student would break out a güiro, heightening Héctor’s hand drum beat. At that same table, a girl would join in with a set of pal-itos, adding further to the beat by knocking the two wooden rhythm sticks together.
A nod from Rico was the signal for the musicians to start the first verse of the carol and move toward two other tables nearby. The students seated there would rise, join the carolers, and continue heading toward the stage, picking up the others as they passed each table.
It wasn’t quite a true parranda, where carolers went from house to house, stopping to sing and eat, before heading on to the next house. Traditionally the revelry would continue through the night going from one house to another, the group growing in size until the sun came up.
Tonight, the kids would wind up on the stage where they’d sing a set of songs in English and Spanish. For the finale, attendees would be encouraged to join in a bilingual version of “Silent Night” with the help of lyrics printed on the back of each program to facilitate participation.
“Does anyone have any questions before I head out to check on a few items with the caterers?” Julia looked around the room. When no one raised a hand or voiced a concern, she clapped her hands together and grinned.
“Okay then, you’ve got”—she twisted her wrist to check her watch—“about an hour to relax, go over the songs, and get ready to wow this crowd. I’m going to run, but I’ll swing by in a bit to check on you.”
She wiggled her fingers in a good-bye wave, then swung toward the door. Only then, with her back to the kids, did a tiny V of concern crease between her brows. Without even glancing at him, she hurried by.
Ben turned to follow, hoping it was nothing more than typical pre-event stress rather than her mother’s appearance that had Julia troubled.
* * *
“Once again, we appreciate your attendance tonight,” Ben told the audience, scanning the hall and making eye contact with donors throughout the dining area. “Now, we hope you enjoy the savory meal Chef Salcedo has whipped up t
o give us a taste of Puerto Rico’s delicious cuisine. Afterward, we have a special performance in store for you. But first, buen provecho!”
On his “enjoy” cue, a trail of servers in white dress shirts with black pants and ties marched into the hall carrying trays of roast pork, fried plantains, and pigeon pea rice. Between the table chatter and the tinkling of forks and knives on china plates, the din in the room increased.
Ben left the stage to rejoin Sherman and Laura Taylor, Julia, her mother, and several donors at their table.
Julia sat beside him on his left, and while for all intents and purposes she appeared her usually poised, confident self, her right leg jiggled nonstop with what seemed to Ben like nervous energy. Occasionally her knee knocked his, then she’d wince, sit still for a few seconds, only to start jittering again in seconds.
He wanted to place his hand on her thigh, intending to offer calm or comfort. But even with the cover provided by the table linens, he kept his hands to himself, unsure how she would react to such an intimate touch. Especially with her mom next to her.
Midway through the meal, the discussion took a natural turn to the Chicago Youth Organization and the Humboldt Park Center’s mission. Eventually it circled back to Julia’s involvement in the fund-raiser.
“So have you fallen in love with our city and decided to move here yet?” Sherman asked her.
“Um, well, it’s been busy, but I’ve certainly enjoyed my time in Chicago.” Julia’s gaze cut to her mother before she flashed a wobbly smile.
“And she’s doing amazing work, as you can see.” Laura raised her hand, palm up, indicating their surroundings. “I have been waiting for the perfect moment to sit down with her so we can discuss making her stay here permanent.”
Both Julia and her mother gasped at Laura’s comment.
Paula glanced back and forth between her daughter and Laura, a question flashing in her dark brown eyes.
“Mami, no he decidido nada,” Julia rushed to assure her mom.
Ben blinked in surprise. He would have said the opposite, that her decision had already been made. She’d told him from the beginning that her goal was to land a job here so she could stay.
What he hadn’t known was that, apparently, her family still remained in the dark.
“I know this would be a big change. For Julia and for you, Paula,” Laura continued. “While I believe Julia is interested, when Ben first proposed the idea of inviting you to Chicago, my hope was that by meeting me and witnessing the fabulous opportunities here for your daughter, you would feel reassured about my offer.”
“Gracias, I am thankful to be here. We are very proud of our nena.” Paula patted Julia’s hand on the table. “But her place is at home. On the Island. Right, Julia?”
Like a thief caught in the glaring lights from a cop car, Julia froze. Pained indecision stamped her features. Then she turned her gaze on him.
Ben sucked in a swift breath at the accusation burning in her hazel eyes.
Suddenly, his earlier dread rose up to grab a choke hold on him. Somehow he had miscalculated.
“Do you know what? I realized that we never went over that last minute script change for the second part of the evening.” Pushing back his chair, Ben tipped his head to the others at their table. “If you’ll excuse us. I need to make sure I have the correct sponsor information from Julia.”
Without waiting for anyone else’s response, Ben set his napkin on the table and gently grasped Julia’s elbow. “We should talk, right?”
Her lips pressed in a thin, angry line, Julia nodded. Stony-faced, she rose from her seat.
Chapter Ten
“How could you?” The words burst from Julia, threatening to drag the tears clogging her throat along with them.
Agitated, she pressed a hand to her forehead and paced the length of the room. Dios mío, she’d made a complete fool of herself in front of the whole table.
“Julia, I had no idea your mother was unaware of your plans.”
“Well, she knows now after that debacle.” Julia flung out her arm in the direction of the hall in frustration—with herself for her inability to level with her parents and with Ben for initiating her arrival at this crossroads.
“Is that a bad thing? That she knows?” Ben asked.
His question had Julia spinning around to glare at him. He stood near the closed door, hands deep in his pants pockets, his handsome face scrunched in a frown.
“Are you kidding me?” she cried. “This is terrible!”
“Why?”
“Why?” she mimicked, her frustration rising. “It’s bad that you forced my hand. That by . . . by interfering with my family life, I feel like you’ve forced me into a corner. Tonight of all nights!”
He took a step toward her, right hand outstretched in supplication. “You have to believe that wasn’t my intent.”
“Sí, I’m sure it wasn’t, but that does no good now. You promised not to push for more from me.”
Ben reared back as if she had slapped him. “I’m not. This . . . bringing your mom here, that was all for you. Because you’ve worked so damn hard and, you’re so close with your family, I thought you might want to share this with her.”
“You should have asked me.”
His mouth twisted in self-reproach, Ben bobbed his head in the tiniest of nods. “I see that now.”
Heaving a sigh filled with resignation and regret, Julia sank down into one of the padded folding chairs. This mess was on her really. She should have leveled with her parents sooner.
Instead, she’d put it off. Figuring, if she didn’t get a job, she’d go home and none of this would matter. But it did. Because if she went back to Puerto Rico, she wouldn’t be happy.
Ave María purísima, she’d made a mess of things now.
Dejected, Julia picked at the polish on her thumbnail, marred from her nervous nail biting. Out of the corner of her eye she watched Ben dragging a chair closer to sit by her.
“What can I do to help?” he asked.
“Nothing.”
“Come on, if I started this snowball rolling . . .” He nudged her knee with the back of his hand playfully.
“Stop being so nice, maybe?”
“Excuse me?”
His voice pitched higher on the last word and Julia’s lips tugged up at his obvious confusion.
“I want to be mad at you, but you’re making it very difficult,” she complained, tilting her head to look up at him under her lashes.
Ben flashed his sexy grin. The one that never failed to make her insides heat.
“Stop that.” She swatted at his leg, but Ben captured her hand with his.
His expression sobered. “In all seriousness, I don’t want to mess this up.”
The sincerity in his blue eyes sucked the air from her lungs.
“I admit this is fast,” Ben rushed on, “and you have a lot up in the air. But you should know, this isn’t a game to me. Whether you’re here in Chicago or back in Puerto Rico, I want to keep spending time with you. See if this goes . . . where I’m hoping it does.”
Julia stared back at Ben, rocked by his heartfelt admission.
“You should talk things over with your mom. Be honest with her.” He rubbed his thumb gently across the back of her hand, evoking tiny tingles of desire that sparked through her. “Whatever happens, I’m on Team Julia.”
He pressed a kiss on her knuckles, then stood, drawing her up alongside him.
“Come on, we have a show to put on. I’m betting your vision and those kids’ charm is going to fill the youth center’s coffers.”
Still grappling with his words, on top of her concern over finally admitting her plan to Mami and her elation over Laura’s potential job offer, Julia made herself take a deep breath and straighten her shoulders.
The kids were counting on her. No way would she let them down. Even when her entire professional and personal life hung in limbo.
* * *
Bernardo beamed at h
er from his spot on the first choral riser and Julia gave him two thumbs up. The audience clapped wildly in a standing ovation as the bomba portion of the performance drew to a close.
Everything had gone according to plan, with the crowd’s reaction even better than Julia could have imagined.
On the stage, Ben tucked the cordless mic under his arm to join in the clapping. The kids grinned and hugged each other. Rico high-fived their guitarist, Diego, before stepping over to share a fist bump with Señor Pérez.
Eventually the clapping subsided and Ben reached for his microphone. “I think you’ll all agree that these kids definitely have talent and personality.”
Laughter and chuckles tittered through the crowd.
“We’d like to thank each of you for your generosity this evening, but before we close the show with our final carol, the organizing committee and I wanted to bring up one special person.”
Julia turned to Laura, thinking perhaps her mentor, as the committee chair, had asked Ben for a few minutes at the mic.
Laura gave her a smile of encouragement, but didn’t make a move toward the stage.
“Julia Fernandez is the visionary who brought the rest of us along for this culturally rich and magnificent ride. Thanks to her creativity, enthusiasm, and expertise, we’ve enjoyed what I think you’d agree has been an amazing evening.”
Once again applause thundered through the room.
“So, Julia, the kids and I are hoping you’ll come up here with us as we wrap things up with ‘Silent Night, Noche de Paz.’ Everyone, please join in. Lyrics are on the back of your program.”
“¡Vete, nena!” Mami elbowed her as she encouraged Julia to go.
Bernardo hopped off the riser and hurried to the stairs on the right side of the stage. He held out a hand, his chubby cheeks rounding bigger with his wide grin.
Moments later, as she stood in the midst of all the kids, Ben at her side, with the cacophony of voices both on stage and off singing the well-known Christmas carol, Julia’s heart swelled with joy.
Holiday Home Run Page 8
