South Beach Love

by Caridad Piñeiro

  “Okay, so how do we get started?” Sylvia asked.

  In a flurry of activity, Dolores had whipped out her tape measure, notepad and pencil from her house coat and began taking Angelica’s measurements while Samantha watched.

  “Let’s leave them to this and make some cafecito,” Sylvia said, and linked her arms with Sara and Bridget to guide them back into the kitchen.

  “You haven’t changed, Sylvia,” Sara said with a chuckle and a wag of her head.

  “Not at all, thankfully,” Bridget said with a smile.

  “I haven’t, but you have Sara. You never used to be a quitter,” Sylvia said with a determined look.

  In the kitchen, Sara stepped away to take out Dolores’s espresso pot and make the coffee. She didn’t pretend not to understand the meaning. As she worked, she said, “I’m not being a quitter—I’m just being realistic.”

  Sylvia leaned on the counter beside her while Bridget sat at the table. “Realistic? Can you define that for me?” Sylvia pressed.

  Sara efficiently filled the filter for the espresso pot and lightly tamped down the finely ground coffee. As she added water to the reservoir, she said, “Both Tony and I have to focus on these quinceañeras. Anything that distracts us from that focus—”

  “Like exploring what’s happening between the two of you?” Sylvia challenged.

  “Nothing’s happening,” Sara said as she slipped the filter into the pot, and twisted it closed. She placed it on the stove and turned on the flame to heat the water.

  Sylvia was silent for a long moment—not a good thing since it generally meant she was busily plotting a move. Sure enough, a second later, Sylvia said, “You see that pot?”

  “Of course, I do,” she said, earning an eye roll from Sylvia.

  “That was rhetorical, Sara,” Sylvia said with a shake of her head as Bridget chuckled. “As the water gets hotter, the pressure builds until boom.” Before Sara could get in a word, Sylvia plowed on. “This thing between you and Tony has been building and if you don’t release the pressure, it’s going to explode and maybe not in a good way.”

  The sputtering of the pot warned that the coffee was ready. Sara shut off the flame and moved the coffee maker to a different range.

  “You see this pot?” Sara teased. “It didn’t explode despite the pressure and we’re going to have delicious coffee to drink.”

  “You think Tony and you can deal with all this pressure and still make something delicious for the parties?” Bridget chimed in, her gaze narrowed as she peered at Sara.

  “We’re professionals. We work under pressure every day. We will get it done and it will be delicious,” she said with a decisive nod.

  Sylvia held her hands up as if to say, “If you say so.” She shared a glance with Bridget who likewise held up her hands, but it was clear neither of the women believed her.

  Not that it mattered what Sylvia and Bridget thought. What mattered was what she believed was possible.

  She was spared from further discussion when Dolores walked into the room with the two girls who were busily chatting about an upcoming soccer game. They seemed like old friends. It brought comfort to Sara again as well as hope.

  And much like the two girls who seemed to be entering a new phase, as Dolores and Sylvia joined Bridget at the table, it seemed as if they were ready for a change as well. “It’s been too long, Dolores. We should really try to see each other more often,” Sylvia said.

  Bridget echoed the sentiment. “We really should.”

  Dolores, normally the more reticent one, nodded enthusiastically. “We should. I worried about these quinceañeras—”

  “Me, too, amiga,” Sylvia confessed.

  With a shy smile, Dolores said, “Maybe this will help us all reconnect like when we used to spend time together as kids.”

  “I can’t picture you as kids,” Angelica said with a shake of her head.

  The two women exchanged a glance and laughed. “It was a lot of fun,” Dolores said.

  “It can be fun again,” Sylvia said and took hold of Dolores’s and Bridget’s hands.

  “OMG does that mean we’ll have to spend more time together?” Samantha said and made a face at Angelica, laughter in her voice.

  “Definitely OMG. What will everyone say?” Angelica replied with a roll of her eyes.

  “That it’s a good thing?” Sara said, hesitantly.

  “Definitely,” Samantha said, and Angelica echoed it. “Definitely.”

  Inside of Sara, the seeds of hope and comfort that she had felt earlier, took root and started to grow. Maybe they could survive these quinceañeras after all.

  Chapter 18

  The hotel kitchen was a dream. It had every gadget that a professional chef would possibly need, well-organized stations for all the line chefs and other staff, and was large enough to handle preparations to feed as many as fifteen-hundred people.

  Overkill for his niece’s two hundred-person event, but he wouldn’t complain about the kitchen being over-staffed and over-sized for the work he had to accomplish. He was also grateful that the hotel was allowing him to use their facilities and staff for the event. The fact that the hotel might now be featured as part of the South Beach Style article had upped the ante, so the hotel was going over-the-top to make sure Tony had everything he needed for the party.

  “I really appreciate all that you’re doing, Jenny,” he said to the Event Manager for the hotel.

  The young woman, a pretty Cubana in a trim business suit, hugged her portfolio to her chest and smiled brightly. “We’re honored to have such a renowned chef in our kitchen.”

  He dipped his head in thanks. “You’ve gone above and beyond. I’m grateful you’re loaning me your staff today as well so that we can run through the menu.”

  “Of course, chef. Whatever you need,” Jenny said.

  The sound of the ballroom door opening drew their attention. Another member of the hotel staff led Roberta Lane and the photographer into the space.

  Tony’s hackles rose at the sight of the reporter. She had that toothy shark grin on her face and a look in her eyes that warned she maybe had another horrible surprise up her sleeve. He braced himself for her imminent arrival, dreading it and what might follow.

  As Roberta neared, she focused her attention on Tony and held her hand out to him. “So good to see you again, chef.”

  He took hold of her fingertips only, as if her touch was unctuous. “Roberta,” was all he said.

  “Where will you be working today?” Roberta said, totally ignoring the Event Manager standing beside him.

  Tony gritted his teeth, placed his hand on the young woman’s back, and said, “I’d like you to meet Jenny Gomez, the hotel’s Event Manager. She’s been responsible for making this all happen and we owe her our thanks.”

  Roberta surprised him then. With a broad smile and a shake of Jenny’s hand, she said, “Yes, thank you, Jenny. I’m not sure we need to hold you up anymore.”

  “Of course. Let me get out of your way,” Jenny said and handed Roberta a business card. “Here’s my contact info just in case you need it.”

  Roberta took the card and slipped it into her jacket pocket. “Thank you. Chef, are you ready for the photo shoot?”

  “Is it okay to get started, Jenny?” he asked in deference to the manager.

  Jenny nodded. “I believe the staff is ready. Let me go get them.”

  Jenny walked to the far side of the kitchen where a number of chefs and workers were busy preparing meals and other items. Approaching one man wearing the traditional chef’s toque, she spoke to him for a moment and he nodded and looked toward Tony, the reporter, and the photographer.

  The Event Manager returned and said, “Chef will have your staff over in a few minutes. They’ll bring over the various items you requested in your e-mail.”

&
nbsp; “Thank you again, Jenny,” he said and with that, the young woman departed, leaving Tony alone with Roberta and the photographer.

  “You’ve had a few exciting days, chef,” Roberta said, and he braced himself, expecting a trap.

  “No more than usual,” he said and shot a quick look at the photographer who as always, seemed totally disinterested in what was happening. He wondered what the man thought of his colleague—and if he ever spoke, for that matter.

  “Really?” she said and reached into her purse to extract her smartphone. With a few swipes, she held up the phone to him. “This has gone viral apparently,” she said as a shaky video ran on the small screen.

  Tony didn’t need to look to know what it was as the tinny sound of a Sara chant spewed from the phone. With a disinterested shrug, he said, “Stuff happens.”

  Obviously dissatisfied with his answer, she said, “No embarrassment then? What about your relationship with Sara?”

  He shrugged once again. “I don’t get bothered easily. As for my relationship with Sara, as I’ve said, I think she’s a wonderful chef. A true professional.” Unlike you, he wanted to say, but bit it back.

  With shrewd eyes, Roberta examined him. With another few swipes of her phone, she held it up barely inches from his face, forcing him to view the video. She’d paused it a spot when the videographer had turned his attention to Sara.

  The look on her face was one of pain and longing. As painful as it was to see her upset, the text she’d sent later that night gave him hope that she still cared for him on some level and that maybe, once they were done with the quinceañeras, they could once again explore the feelings that had been growing between them.

  It took every fiber of his being not to respond to the video and give Roberta even more fodder for her gossip.

  “Well, Tony?” she pressed at his prolonged silence, but he refused to be egged into a response.

  “Chef. We’re ready whenever you are.”

  Roberta jerked away the smartphone and glared at the chef and crew of kitchen staff that were lined up and waiting for Tony.

  Tony stepped up to the man with the toque and shook his hand. “Chef Gonzalez. Thank you so much for sharing your kitchen and your wonderful staff. I’ve heard so many good things about you and them.”

  The chef’s shoulders relaxed with the praise and he smiled. “Thank you, chef. Let me introduce the line chefs who will be working with us for the event.”

  “I’d like that,” Tony said and followed along as the chef introduced each of the men and women who would man the stations in the kitchen.

  From the corner of his eye he noticed the photographer shooting several photos as Tony met the staff. Roberta hung back, scribbling in her notepad. He forced himself to ignore their presence and focus on his main goal: instructing the staff on the dishes he planned on serving for his niece’s quinceañera.

  “We can work over here, chef,” Chef Gonzalez said.

  One of the chefs brought over a jacket for Tony and he slipped into it and then took a spot at the center of the table in order to explain each of the recipes they would be making the night of the party.

  “The theme of the party is Miami Spice and we’re going to prepare traditional foods with an upscale twist. Let’s start with the avocado salad,” he said and in no time, he had grilled the fruit and prepared the dressing. After, he demonstrated how to prepare the Cuban-style porchetta and other items for the menu.

  All the time that he worked, Roberta and the photographer hovered by. She was taking notes while the photographer took shot after shot.

  He hadn’t expected them to stay that long and in the back of his mind he wondered if Roberta had some ulterior motive for doing so. She seemed to like to stir up trouble more than he liked to stir up a good sauce.

  Once he was done explaining the side dishes, he hurried onto the dessert, but as he did so, he heard a murmur of something and chuckling from some of the line chefs. “Amateurs,” “Sara,” and “Munch” stood out and he turned and faced them.

  “I won’t stand for any negative comments being made about Sara and her staff. If I hear anyone behave that way, you’re off the team. Is that clear?”

  Some looked down or away, but all nodded to confirm their understanding.

  “Bueno. Let’s finish this up,” Tony said and provided the chefs instruction on a tres leches cake with banana and coconut for dessert.

  “It all sounds delicious. Sara Kelly is really going to have to up her game if she’s going to beat this menu,” Roberta said as she walked over.

  Tony gritted his teeth and reminded himself to remain calm. “I’m sure Sara’s menu will be original and delicious as well,” he said as he wiped his hands with a kitchen towel and undid the buttons on the chef’s jacket. He turned to the chefs and said, “I want to thank you for taking the time to walk through this with me. I’m sure everything is going to turn out perfectly the night of the party.”

  “Thank you, chef. We’re all looking forward to the celebration,” Chef Gonzalez said, and his staff echoed his sentiments.

  Tony stripped off the jacket and handed it back to one of the assistants. As he walked toward the exit to the ballroom, Roberta and the photographer tagged along beside him and Roberta attempted to re-engage him in the interview.

  “Do you have anything else you’d like our readers to know?”

  That stopped Tony dead in his tracks. He was tempted to tell her what a conniver she was. Instead he said, “You can tell them that I’m looking forward to my niece’s quinceañera and possibly spending more time in Miami in the future. I love my hometown and being back has shown me just how much I miss it, my family, and my friends.”

  Roberta’s nasty, toothy smile warned she was going in for a bite. “And have you missed one special lady in particular? Could it be Sara Kelly?”

  He forced a smile and jammed his hands in his pockets. “I’ll see you both the night of the party. I have to run.”

  Without waiting, he hurried off to phone that one special lady and ask her to meet him somewhere neutral. He didn’t want a repeat of what had happened the other night in her restaurant.

  Chapter 19

  Although she’d been hoping that Tony would try to reach out to her again after his disastrous visit to the restaurant the other night, she hadn’t expected that it would happen so soon. She had felt horrible but also felt powerless to stop the chant when the crowd had really gotten going. Once Tony had bolted out the door with her brother Rick chasing after him, there was little she could do except text her apologies.

  And despite their hopeful message exchange, she was still more than a little hurt about everything that was happening, including that Tony thought she couldn’t or maybe shouldn’t prepare a traditional Cuban meal because she wasn’t Cuban. Because of that, she had been working especially hard to learn Dolores’s family recipes and the stories and traditions behind them. She had also checked out a book on the history of Cuba as well as some cookbooks that also contained family histories. Last, but certainly not least, she had sat with Luis, Lucy, and some of the patrons of their fruit store to hear their stories about the “Cuba de ayer”—Cuba before Castro—and what their lives had been like afterward.

  She’d been fascinated by what she’d been learning and would do her best to honor them and their experiences with what she intended to prepare for Samantha’s quinceañera. Just like Tony would do all that he could to make Angelica’s party the best that he could.

  Tony, she thought with a sigh. She had been surprised when he had called just a little bit earlier to ask if she had time to meet him for breakfast at the coffee shop around the corner from Munch. The same coffee shop where she’d walked out of the interview with the South Beach Style reporter.

  “Breakfast? I’m not sure—”

  “How about just a coffee? You can spare ten minutes fo
r a cup of coffee, can’t you?” he had pleaded.

  She’d caved. “Ten minutes,” she’d said. She didn’t know if she could keep up a neutral face much longer than that. She cared too much about him, but also about being the one featured in the South Beach Style article.

  “Thank you, Sara. I appreciate it,” he said and named a time to meet.

  She shot a glance at her watch and said, “Okay, I’ll see you in fifteen minutes.”

  She ran back to Jeri’s office let her know she’d be stepping out for a few minutes. Then she raced into her office to pass a brush through her hair and freshen up a bit before meeting Tony. As she stared in the mirror, she told herself that she didn’t feel tired, but the dark circles beneath her eyes said otherwise. She dabbed a little extra foundation there, hoping it would do the trick and headed out to meet Tony.

  When she rounded the corner onto the pedestrian mall, Tony was already sitting at a table, two take-out cups of coffee sitting in front of him. He rose as she approached and went to give her a hug, but she side-stepped him and sat down at the table. He stood there for a moment, shoulders downturned, hands jammed in his pockets, but finally sat.

  “I hope you don’t mind that I took the liberty of ordering for you. I didn’t want to waste any of my ten minutes by having to wait in line,” he said with a hesitant smile.

  “I don’t mind and thank you,” she said, wanting to keep it pleasant between them. Because of that, she apologized again. “I’m sorry about what happened the other night at the restaurant.”

  Tony shrugged and picked up his cup of coffee. “There was nothing you could do, Sara.”

  She tapped her chest with her forefinger. “It’s my place and I should have been able to control what was going on.”

  He shook his head. “You can’t control everything. Besides, it’s not your fault this rivalry thing has gotten so far out of hand.”

  “It’s that reporter,” she said and finally picked up her cup of coffee and took a sip. She murmured her approval of the sweet and creamy café con leche. “Perfect.”