“And now it’s time to get to work.” Slapping a black nylon kitchen fork on the rim of the shredded pork pan, Gloria cut in the conversation and assumed the role of taskmaster. Her grin gave Gracie hope that her sister would give Jake a chance.
Jake walked over to Gloria, fingers raised in a quick salute. “Private Peoples, reporting for duty.”
“Your mission, Private Peoples, is to take this pork and to give it some shock and awe.” She pointed at several pounds of freshly roasted meat.
“Yes, ma’am.” Jake found two more shiny aluminum rectangles and set up a processing station that resembled Gloria’s, then stocked one pan with plenty of yummy material with which to work.
“Don’t forget your gloves.” Mamí pulled a pair of clear plastic gloves from a box on the shelf over the sink. “Gracie, take these to Jake.”
Instead of taking them to put on himself, Jake held his left hand out for Gracie to slide on the glove.
“Gracie?” Jake gave a sincere smile at her hesitation to put the glove on his hand. “You’re slowing down the assembly line.”
“I’m going to need the masa on those husks very soon, Graciela. Rápido!” Juanita cocked an eyebrow straight at where her daughter couldn’t stop studying Jake’s smile.
“Lo siento, Mamí.” Well, really, she only felt sorry about turning away from Jake and walking back to the other side of the counter.
“So, Jake, I understand you’re in real estate?” Papí pulled a bottle opener out of a corner drawer and began popping tops off the soda bottles. Gracie could feel herself deflate like the whoosh of the escaping carbonation as her father blindly dove into the heart of Jake’s struggle tonight. She couldn’t blame Papí for making small talk out of the only detail he knew about Jake. But still, she wanted Jake to feel as safe talking with her family as she always did when they cooked together.
Jake continued to work at his assignment. “Well, Carlos, I am for now. But not after tomorrow. Is Huarache’s hiring?” He held up a handful of pulled pork and laughed as he spoke. It made Gracie breathe a sigh of relief to see him joking instead of stressing. What a difference the passage of a little bit of time could make. “You may consider this my job interview.”
“I’m sure we could find you a spot, Jake, although we prefer to hire family.” Papí clapped a wide hand, marked with the scars from years around knives in a busy kitchen, on Jake’s shoulder as he passed. Gracie had seen Papí give Gloria’s husband, Felipe, the same sign of approval so many times over the years before Felipe passed away.
He brought the last of the soda bottles to the table and started handing them out. “Gracie, I know you want the orange soda. Jake? Which flavor do you prefer? Limón? These are popular soft drinks in Mexico. I hope you like them.”
“I think I’ll try the lemon, Carlos. I believe I had one of these as a kid when we went down to Cancún on a vacation.” He took a long sip straight from the bottle. “How many tamales are we going to make tonight?”
“Ten dozen, maybe a few more. They’re always popular at the church fund-raisers. Lots of families like to eat homemade tamales, but don’t always have the time to make them.” Mamí squeezed between Jake and Gloria and removed a pan heavy with a mountain of tamale filling. “Anything worth having takes time and effort. A good tamale is no different, Jake.”
“That’s a good way of looking at it, Mrs. Garcia.”
“Oh, you should call me Juanita. Mrs. Garcia is Carlos’s madre.” She smiled that warm smile Gracie had known all her life, the smile that drew people in and made them immediate friends. Gracie hoped it made Jake feel at home in Huarache’s kitchen.
A snippet of a popular song began to play from Gloria’s cell phone. Gloria pulled off her gloves quickly and answered the phone. “How are you feeling, Cara?” Gloria pushed back from the table and stepped over to a corner of the room to talk to her patient.
“I think I’m about finished here, Juanita.” Jake dropped the last few shreds on top of the pile in front of him, then removed the spice-stained disposable gloves.
“Muy bien! You can help Gracie spread this masa on the corn husks, then I’ll come behind you all and add the filling and Gloria can roll them up. Then we’ll start putting them in the steamer.”
A large, aluminum mixing bowl, filled to the brim with masa, got pushed toward the open spot next to Gracie.
“What’s the best way to do this, Gracie?” Jake asked, moving just a bit closer to her than necessary. This wasn’t the first batch of tamales Gracie had a part in making. She knew it would not be the last. But she would certainly remember it as the most enjoyable.
Gracie retrieved a husk from the bowl of water to her right and laid it out before her. “After you get a softened husk, you reach in and grab a good handful of masa. Then, with your fingers, you work it out evenly—all the way to the edges.”
“That’s how you make them by yourself, Jake. When you make tamales with su novia, it’s much better to work like this.” Carlos stopped behind Juanita, wrapping his arms around her so that his hands slid between her arms and torso, making it appear that there were four hands preparing the corn and pork.
Gracie hoped Jake’s Spanish wasn’t good enough to realize that the word Papí used could be translated as “girlfriend.” A small flush of embarrassment prickled at Gracie’s cheeks like the brush of a holly bush. She and Jake were nothing more than adversaries who were becoming friends. No matter how old a daughter got, a father could still embarrass her without even trying.
“Maybe you’re right, Carlos.” Jake came up behind Gracie. “That would definitely make it more fun.”
Jake’s easy interaction with her family made her smile. David had only met her family once, and he had made it clear that he didn’t have any fun at the time.
“Jake...” Gracie tried to catch his attention in order to get his help with the giant bowl of masa that remained. He wasn’t listening. Instead, he looked into her eyes as though he’d never seen them before.
“Jake?”
He brushed back a lock of hair from her forehead, wiping a trail of masa from the fine hairs framing her face. The hairs moved past his fingers with a light tickle.
“Gracie.” He ran his fingers across the strands again, seeming completely lost in his thoughts. “Thank you.”
“For what?” She couldn’t believe it could be this easy. She hated letting bad memories crowd her mind while her heart was feeling so light, but she had to be honest. David and Jake came from the same world, so Gracie knew this moment of having Port Provident’s prodigal son fitting in so easily with her immigrant family couldn’t last.
She didn’t want to feel those feelings of rejection based on her heritage again.
So Gracie closed that door on her heart tightly, like the lid of the steamer Mamí was using to cook and soften the tamales.
“For letting me see that not every family works the same way as mine. My father only cared about his business. My mother only cared about being seen in the right places. My sister and I had each other, but we never experienced what you have right here in this room, except for when we spent time with Nana.”
“Cara’s in labor. I need to head to the clinic.” Gloria’s interjection unintentionally broke the connection encircling Gracie and Jake. “You can take it from here, Private Peoples. Make me proud, soldier.”
Heading out the door, Gloria returned a bigger version of the salute Jake had given her at the start of the tamale preparations. Gracie viewed it as a sign of approval. Just as he had revealed over time with her, Jake’s sincere side won out over the strictly business facade he tried so hard to maintain.
Gracie wished he’d put this genuine and fun part of his personality front and center instead of trying to be someone he thought everyone else wanted him to be.
How could she demonstrate to him t
he value of who God created Jake Peoples to be?
“Jake, are you planning to come to the fund-raiser at La Iglesia de la Luz del Mundo tomorrow?” Mamí sealed another bag of a dozen tamales as she talked.
Of course he wasn’t. Gracie knew that answer before Jake even spoke. Tonight’s adventure in Hispanic culture had to be a one-time thing, a break to keep Jake’s mind off what lay around the corner for him tomorrow.
Jake walked over to the sink, turned on the water and began washing his hands.
“What time does it start? I’d like to come.”
Gracie’s jaw dropped. She couldn’t believe what she’d just heard. She hoped no one else noticed her shock. They’d think she was rude—and she knew better than to bring up the past with David around her parents, who were still angry about how their daughter had been treated years ago.
Jake raised his voice to be heard over the flowing faucet. “My board meeting starts at three o’clock. I don’t know how long it will last. But since they’ve apparently already decided on the outcome, it probably won’t take long.”
Jake turned to the paper towel dispenser in the corner. It hid his face, but not the flat tones of his voice.
“We’ll be celebrating your confirmation tomorrow night at the church, Jake. Nothing is final yet.” Carlos opened another soda, swapping out Jake’s empty bottle on the table.
“That’s right, Jake.” Gracie’s mother chimed in from her spot near the steamer. “If God wants you at the head of your company, nothing will stand in your way.”
Jake nodded wordlessly.
“I can see that you’re not convinced, young man, but Juanita is right. Look around you.” Carlos spread his arms. “I should still be a cook in a small Mexican resort town. But here I am, in the greatest country in the world. I own my own restaurant. It’s not the biggest restaurant in Port Provident, but I will have been open for twenty years next month. Plus, I get to work every day with the love of my life.”
Carlos crossed the kitchen and stood next to Jake at the sink. He placed his hand on Jake’s shoulder. “That’s God, Jake. If your dream is to run your family’s company, it’s because He’s placed it there.”
“Thanks, Carlos.” Jake nodded again. “I wish I had the same confidence as you.”
Carlos kept his calloused hand on Jake’s shoulder, conveying fatherly approval through his touch. “It’s not confidence, Jake. It’s faith.”
* * *
Three hours passed in Huarache’s kitchen before Jake realized it. He’d stayed busy and the conversation had surrounded him so completely that he’d never even thought to check his watch.
As Juanita sealed the last tamale in the last plastic bag, Jake found himself wishing the evening wasn’t coming to a close. From the moment he stepped through the door, the Garcia family welcomed him—even when they didn’t have a reason to, since he’d almost bailed on them at the last minute. After spending time in her parents’ presence, Jake better understood why he couldn’t stop thinking about Gracie.
Carlos and Juanita had spent their years in Port Provident building a business, not because they were entitled to or because they would impress others, but because they desired to honor God’s blessings in their lives.
Gracie and her sister, the next generation, followed their parents’ example.
How different from the way his father had run the Peoples family business and how Jake himself was raised.
“Jake, do you mind giving me a ride back to my place?” Gracie threw a sponge over his head and into the sink as she passed him. He loved this relaxed side of her. Apparently, the time in the kitchen kept her from the worries about her business, as well.
“Of course. Happy to.” Jake would be grateful for the few more minutes to spend in her presence. He’d love to draw this enjoyable evening out as long as possible.
“Would you like me to pick you up for the fund-raiser tomorrow? I can have Anne call you and let you know when the meeting is wrapping up.”
“I only have morning and afternoon classes tomorrow, so I should be through about the same time you are.” She finished wiping down the counter, then tossed another sponge into the side of the sink filled with sudsy water.
“Great.” He smiled at Gracie just to see her shy smile turn back into a grin. It calmed the nervous quiver that had stayed in his heart since Nana’s call. “You ready?”
“Ready.”
Jake walked over to Gracie and stood next to her. It seemed like the right thing to do. She didn’t close the few inches of space between them as Jake realized he’d hoped. He couldn’t think like that. Tonight had been a welcome break, but he had no certainty in his life after tomorrow. At this point in his life, he needed a friend and nothing more.
“Carlos, Juanita, it was a pleasure meeting you both.” Jake extended his hand to Gracie’s father.
“Jake, I know you had many reasons not to come, but we are glad you did anyway. It was good to meet you.” Juanita gave him a quick peck on the cheek.
“I hope my tamales pass the test.” Jake laughed, remembering the step-by-step tutorials Gracie’s entire family had given him to make the simple, traditional food.
“I’m sure they will,” Carlos replied as Juanita nodded in confirmation. “We’ll see you tomorrow at the church, Jake.”
Gracie gave the nail on her pointer finger a little nibble as her father spoke.
“We’ve got to go, Papí. Jake has a big day tomorrow.” She turned toward the door. Gracie seemed to be trying to step out of Huarache’s quickly.
“You seemed nervous when your dad was talking.” Jake stopped a few steps into the parking lot.
She looked down at her feet. Her words came out muffled as she bit down on another fingernail. “Parents. You never know what they’re going to say.” Jake felt that there was more behind Gracie’s words, but she stopped short of elaborating further.
“I seemed to always have that problem growing up. My mother usually found herself halfway through a bottle of alcohol by lunchtime, so it was usually best that her slurring disguised her words. And my father, well, he’d never heard the adage about not saying anything if you couldn’t say something nice. He was all too willing to elaborate on what he saw as my many shortcomings.” Jake twisted the corner of his mouth wryly at the memory. “But luckily, neither of your parents seem to have any of those issues.”
“No, not at all. They’re good people. But sometimes they let their imaginations run away with them.” Gracie’s eyes looked distant, as though searching for some faraway memory.
Good people. Those words took Jake back to his earlier train of thought about Gracie Garcia and her parents. The Garcias came to America in search of a dream. Through hard work, Gracie had learned a new language, then fulfilled a dream to help others do the same. She opened a small business that changed lives and paid the bills. And her parents had achieved that American dream as well with Huarache’s.
Gracie pursued a relationship with a God she knew personally and didn’t shy away from making it a part of her life, a trait Jake could now see she inherited from both Carlos and Juanita. Even skeptical Jake found that refreshing. He didn’t know God in such a way, but he admired Gracie’s honesty about her faith.
Gracie impressed Jake. She hadn’t been handed anything and hadn’t squandered opportunities.
Unlike someone else he could think of.
In truth, Gracie was everything Jake hoped he himself could be.
He’d let too many good things go in his life. His new friendship with Gracie couldn’t become just another casualty of his own streak of bad luck.
Chapter Seven
Soft morning light peeked through the curtains in Jake’s bedroom. The sun ushered in the day on which the prodigal son would learn of his redemption—or not.
If he co
uld have pulled the covers over his head and pushed today’s events off until a time when he could be assured of a positive outcome, Jake would have. But with Sam Pennington continuing Johnny Peoples’s tradition of spewing venom as far as Jake was concerned, that day might never come. And Jake knew he couldn’t stay in bed forever.
Dressing quickly, he stopped his nervous pacing only long enough to make coffee and pour it into a travel mug. He wanted to be at the office early and lock the door. He now knew he didn’t have much of a chance, but he did know himself. Jake needed to spend some time alone putting together the final plan.
Arriving at the office before any other employees, Jake reflected on all the classes in law school that stressed the importance of thorough preparations before going into the final arguments in a trial.
He’d stand in a boardroom today, not a courtroom, but Jake Peoples felt he had as much on the line as any death-row defendant.
The morning passed, a blur of spreadsheets and notes from past presentations. He only stopped when his stomach insisted on some food, then went right back to where he left off.
Jake notched another line on the notepad on his desk.
Forty-one.
Jake had checked the time forty-one times since returning from a solitary lunch at the sandwich shop down the street.
He put his head in his hands as he realized only ninety minutes had passed.
A muscle in his neck—right under the base of the skull—cramped. Jake needed to release some of the building tension.
He pushed aside an open file folder full of papers on the condo project and laid his head on the one available vacant space he’d created on the desk.
The sound of three insistent raps on his office door jolted through him. Eyes still closed, he tried to ignore the commotion.
“Jake? Jake?” The door muffled the voice, but every repeat of his name came through more loudly. “Jake!”
He lifted his head, fingertips squishing into the cool leather arms of the soft executive chair as he pushed himself upright.
Saving Gracie Page 11
