The heavy glass doors, set behind ornamental iron in the shape of a huge sun, opened wide. Claire and Abuelita walked in, with Gabbie and Graeme in tow.
“Mommy!” Gabbie squealed and ran into her mother’s open arms. Gabbie had changed from the tutu into a wizard’s outfit.
“Who are you?” Martina quizzed her.
“I’m Hermione and that’s Harry,” Gabbie said, pointing to Graeme with a plastic wand.
Martina scooped her up, holding her on her hip, and walked up to Claire and Abuelita. She gave them hugs with her other arm, kissed their cheeks, and ruffled Graeme’s hair.
“Welcome to Art and Sol!”
“Let me take your picture.” Sue stepped from behind the counter with her digital camera. “Say, kay-so!” she directed, her voice completely devoid of a Spanish accent.
This made them all laugh as they huddled together.
“Queso!” the group cried just before Sue snapped the picture.
“Let’s get you seated,” Martina said, as she noticed other people coming up the walk. Leaving them for Sue, she ushered Claire, Abuelita, and the kids into the dining area.
“Why don’t you sit down here, and I’ll get you some drinks. Would you like coffee, Abuelita?”
“Sí, bueno,” Abuelita nodded. She opened the menu, pulling her glasses out of her purse. “This looks good, mi cara.”
Abuelita was wearing a red silk scarf in her hair, which was smooth and pulled back tightly in a low bun at the nape of her neck. Her black silk blouse was tucked into a broomstick skirt—red and black silk—and trimmed at the waist by a wide, woven belt, which tied on one side. Red and black tassels hung down from where it tied.
Martina left the table but returned swiftly with a platter of three tall glasses and a mug. Graeme and Gabbie exchanged conspiratorial glances when they received theirs, both taking big gulps with their straws. Claire scolded Martina for indulging them.
“Oh, we only live once, amiga! They can have Sprite on our opening day!”
Abuelita agreed. “This coffee is delicious, Martina. Excellent choice.”
“Gracias, Abuelita.” Then, looking around the table, Martina asked, “Do you all know what you want to order?”
“I want a hamburger,” said Gabbie, closing the menu she’d pretended to read.
“Me, too,” said Graeme. “With fries.”
Claire made a face in Martina’s direction, but Martina was writing it down on her pad.
“Okay. What about you, Abuelita?”
“I’ll have tacos de carne asada.” Abuelita folded her menu and handed it to Martina.
“Claire?”
“I think I’m going to have this Speedy Gonzales.”
“Speedy Gonzales?” Graeme laughed at her. “He’s from Looney Tunes!”
“You’re correct, Graeme. But it’s also the name of a yummy Mexican dish that Tío Jesús makes. Do you want to change your order and try it?”
Graeme considered, looking back and forth between his mother and Gabbie. Then he made his decision.
“Nope, I’ll stick with a hamburger.”
By the time they finished their meal, the restaurant was filling up. Claire stopped Martina as she went by on a mad dash to the kitchen and asked her if she needed help.
“There was supposed to be a girl here at eleven o’clock—she came to training and everything. I don’t know what’s happened to her.”
Claire shot a look at Abuelita, who completely understood.
“Well, Gabbie, Graeme, it looks like we’re ready to go. How would you like me to take you to the park for a while, and then we’ll come back and get your mommy, Graeme?”
“Awesome!”
“Double triple awesome!” Gabbie agreed.
Claire hadn’t worked so hard—not physically, anyway—since she and Martina were servers in high school. During the summers, they’d worked together at José’s, a café in Romeo that had since closed. But it was amazing how it all came back to her now. After quick introductions to Frieda and Dr. Banks, who recognized her from the seminar, she was thrust into the controlled chaos of taking orders, filling drinks, and delivering food to what must have been the whole of Conejos County. It was wild, and Claire enjoyed the challenge.
When Abuelita came back an hour later, Claire said that there was no way she could leave Martina, so Abuelita took the kids back to the Casa.
The pace didn’t slow down until after two o’clock.
“Why don’t you take a break now, Claire? I’ve got these last few tables,” Martina offered. “You can get a drink and go sit down in the kitchen if you want to.”
“Thanks, boss.”
Martina stuck her tongue out at Claire.
Claire walked over to the drink station to fill a glass with ice and water and then went into the kitchen. It wasn’t until she sat down on a stool in the back, by the open door, that she realized how tired her feet were. It was a good thing she had chosen to wear her Birkenstocks, or they’d be outright hurting. She looked down at her legs. Her faded jeans were streaked with salsa and sour cream, and there was a guacamole stain on the sleeve of her white poplin shirt. She blew a stray strand of hair out of her eyes and took a long drink of her water. It tasted like rain.
“Mind if I join you?” It was Frieda, Martina’s friend from the home group she was always talking about.
“Sure,” Claire said, scooting over to make room for the stool Frieda was holding.
“Busy day,” Frieda observed. “What a neat blessing for Martina and Jesús.”
“Yes,” Claire granted, though she hadn’t thought of that until now.
“And I know it’s been a blessing to others. This town was in need of a good gathering place.”
Frieda plopped down on her stool and took a drink from her glass of water.
“Boy, that fresh air feels good.”
“Yes, it does,” Claire agreed. She wished she could think of something interesting to say.
“So, you’re Martina’s best friend from childhood?” Frieda’s question was really a statement.
“Yes. We grew up together all the way through school.”
“And then, let’s see,” Frieda said, thinking. “Martina says you went out into the world and made something of yourself while she stayed here and had a baby.”
Claire was taken aback at the cognitive dissonance in Frieda’s words.
“Well, yes, I suppose that’s one way of putting it.”
Is that how Martina described our different choices? The paths that ultimately led Martina to joy and me to sorrow?
Frieda laughed. “You know Martina. So straightforward and humble. She loves and admires you so much.” Frieda’s smile felt genuine.
“Excuse me, ladies!” Jerry called, swinging open the front door to the kitchen. “There’s a two-top on the patio that’s requesting you, Frieda.”
There was mischief in his eyes.
“Me? I can’t go out there; I smell like a garlic factory! Claire, you’ll have to do it.”
Claire looked at Jerry and then back at Frieda.
“It’s somebody who wants to see you, Frieda,” Jerry said. “They told me to get you.” He smiled.
The door swung shut and he was gone.
Frieda turned to Claire. “It’s probably one of my cheerleaders, but what if it’s not? Martina didn’t show me anything about serving. Would you mind going with me?”
Claire had rested long enough anyway. She stood to her feet with a smile.
When she saw who was sitting under the umbrella, Claire nearly dropped her tray of two ice waters. Why did I tell him all of that stuff? Her first instinct was to turn right back around, but the football coach and Stephen Reyes had already spotted her trailing behind Frieda with drinks that were obviously meant for them. There was no escape.
When Claire reached the table, the coach was standing up, giving Frieda a hug.
Stephen stood to his feet. “Claire, what a nice surprise!” He sounded like
he meant it. His manner was easy, comfortable as an old denim jacket, and he was grinning from ear to ear. Claire could see the tiny chip in his front tooth and the look of obvious pleasure in his eyes.
Claire felt anything but pleased. She shakily set down the two glasses, spilling a little bit of water on Martina’s woven Mexican table cloth. The pattern on this one was fish. In front of Stephen’s seat, a spot spread out slightly over one of the fish, darkening the cloth. It quickly disappeared.
She looked up at him.
“Hi,” she said weakly.
Stephen’s eyes were steady. “Claire, this is Joe, my good friend that I told you about. And Joe, this is Claire Caspian. You already know Frieda?”
Claire nodded and took the hand that Joe offered her. It was big, and hers seemed to disappear when he covered it with his other hand.
“Nice to meet you, Claire,” Joe said, pumping her hand heartily.
“It’s nice to meet you, too, Joe.”
Frieda put one hand on her hip and waved her other index finger back and forth between Stephen and Claire.
“How do you two know each other?”
“Well—” Stephen began.
“He’s my doctor,” Claire answered, before Stephen could finish.
“Oh,” Frieda said.
Stephen sat back down. His jaw was tightening.
“So, do you ladies have time to join us?” Joe asked.
Frieda looked at Claire.
“Why don’t you go ahead, Frieda,” Claire told her. “We’re not that busy right now. I’ll let Jesús know in the kitchen.”
“What about you?” she asked.
“I think I’d better stay available to Martina out here. But I’ll wait on you guys. How’s that?”
Stephen looked a little disappointed, and Claire hated herself for being so brusque. What is wrong with me?
“Could you come out with us later for dessert?” Stephen’s eyes were imploring.
“Yeah, babe,” Joe turned to Frieda. “We’ve got a little surprise cooked up for you two.”
“That sounds great to me.” Frieda settled into the seat next to Joe and smiled.
They all looked up at Claire, waiting for her to answer.
“Uh, I’m sorry, but I can’t.” Claire’s words hit the ground with a thud. Taking up her order pad, she quickly changed the subject.
“Are you ready to order or do you need a few more minutes?”
“I think I need a few more minutes,” Joe said.
Stephen didn’t look up from his menu.
Chapter Eighteen
When Claire arrived back at the Casa, she found Abuelita, Graeme, and Gabbie sitting on the floor in the den. They were intently studying Graeme’s oversized checkerboard, but it was not set with its regular black and red checkers. Instead, the squares were covered with an assortment of Graeme’s dinosaur figurines.
Graeme and Gabbie were bent over one side of the board, advancing what appeared to be an army of meat-eaters, while Abuelita strategized from the other, setting a trap for their green T. rex with her purple triceratops.
“Oh, man!” Graeme exclaimed to Gabbie. “She’s going to wipe out our T. rex!”
“Hola everybody! I’m home!”
Graeme jumped up to hug Claire, keeping one eye fastened on the board.
“Mommy! We’re playing Dino-checkers!”
“Cool.” She sat down beside them with Graeme in her lap.
“Buenas tardes, hija. I was just jumping Graeme and Gabbie’s lizard king.” Abuelita raised her triceratops dramatically and crashed it down onto the T. rex, knocking it over.
“Good-bye, tiny lizard,” she said sweetly. “It has been nice knowing you.”
She replaced the T. rex by standing her triceratops proudly on the empty square.
“We still have our allosaurus and velociraptor,” Gabbie said, glaring down her nose.
At seven o’clock Martina called. Claire could hear a cacophony of voices in the background.
“Claire, I should have planned ahead better than this. I had no idea—Yes, Rosa, that goes to table five.”
“Martina, do you want Gabbie to spend the night with us?”
“Can she? Would it be too much trouble? Alberto! Over here. This table needs bussing. There are fifteen people waiting!”
“It’s fine—great. Graeme and Gabbie will be thrilled. Don’t worry about a thing.”
“I’ll call you in the morning! Muchas gracias!”
“De nada.”
Claire hung up the phone and continued to peel the orange in her hand. Then she peeled a second one and pulled it apart, arranging the slices on saucers in the shape of two pinwheels. She poured Graeme and Gabbie each a cup of warm milk and herself and Abuelita cups of hot water, dropping a bag of chai in Abuelita’s and Ginger Peach in her own. Arranging this all on a silver tray—one of Abuelita’s many—Claire carried it out to the patio, where Abuelita was sitting in a lounge chair beside a big terra-cotta pot filled with colorful cacti. She looked very relaxed. Maybe even asleep. Graeme and Gabbie were squatted by the goldfish pond a few yards away.
“Are you two fishing?” Claire gasped when she saw their poles.
She set down the tray on the table by Abuelita and ran over to them just in time to see Gabbie’s cork go under.
“You’ve got one, Gab! Reel him in!”
Gabbie jerked her pole and reeled as fast as she could. One of Abuelita’s fantail goldfish, a calico about four inches long, appeared at the end of her line.
“Way to go, Gabbie!” Graeme jumped up and down, patting his friend on the back as if she’d just caught a prize Dolly Varden trout. “Boy, that’s a nice one!”
Gabbie held the fish right up in front of Claire’s face. It wriggled on the hook, splashing her with tiny drops of water. Claire blinked and sputtered, appalled.
“Can you get him off for me? Graeme and I are going to cook him.”
“Cook him? Abuelita, did you tell these children they could fish for your pets?”
Abuelita raised up her head and opened her eyes. “Oh, what’s it hurt? As long as they put them back.”
“Aw, we wanted to have fish for a snack,” Graeme complained. “You could filet him up like Aunt Moira does.”
“I am not Aunt Moira, and I do not filet fish,” Claire reprimanded him. “Besides, those were catfish. No one is going to eat Abuelita’s goldfish. They are her pets!”
She grabbed hold of Gabbie’s line and eased the hook out of the fish’s mouth, relieved to see that it slipped out without doing much damage.
“Let’s put you back where you belong,” she said, lowering the fish into the water’s edge and gently letting it go. There was a plop and a flash of white tailfin, and the goldfish disappeared to safety.
While they were eating their snacks on the patio, Claire made an announcement.
“Gabbie, your mother called and asked if you wanted to spend the night with Graeme tonight. Would you like to do that?”
The children squealed in response.
“As soon as we finish our snacks, you each need to get into the bathtub. I’ll let you sleep in the guest room where you can watch a movie.”
“Can we take a bath in Abuelita’s Jacuzzi?”
“Sure you can, Graemesy,” said Abuelita. “You can fill it up with bubbles.”
“Let’s go, Gabbie!” Graeme said, setting down his cup.
They raced each other in the house and rambled up the stairs to grab some toys out of Graeme’s room. Claire finished her tea and met them on the way down the hall to the master suite.
That night, when Beauty and the Beast was over and Graeme and Gabbie were both fast asleep, Claire knocked on Abuelita’s bedroom door.
“Abuelita? Are you awake?”
“Sí, hija. Come in.”
Abuelita was sitting up in her bed with piles of down pillows propped up behind her. She was wearing a peach-colored gauze gown trimmed in white Battenberg lace. Her dark hair, streaked
with gray, fell in long, graceful curves below her shoulders. A Tiffany lamp cast soft light over the weathered pages of her Bible, which she held like a treasure in her thin-skinned, velvety soft, manicured hands.
Claire sat down on the edge of the bed. She suddenly felt like she was five years old.
“What is it, child?”
“I just wanted to talk to you a little bit.”
Abuelita smiled. “Those kids are pretty sweet, aren’t they? It reminds me of you and Martina when you were that age.”
“Yeah. They really get each other.”
“They do. So much is understood between them. That’s a good way of saying it.” Abuelita fingered an embroidered bookmark that was yellow with age. “Do you remember this?”
Claire leaned over to look at it. In crude purple stitches, the bookmark read, “Trust in the Lord with all your heart.”
“I can’t believe you still have that!”
“Of course I do. You made it for me in Bible school when you were seven. It is one of my dearest treasures.”
Abuelita looked from Claire back to the bookmark, as though imagining her granddaughter as a little child.
“Abuelita, how have you kept your faith in God all these years? I don’t mean just belief—I mean this daily, connected faith you’ve always had. How do you do it?”
Claire’s eyes were as direct as her question.
Abuelita studied them as though she was trying to figure out a riddle written there. Then she spoke.
“I don’t do it—He does.”
Claire sighed and looked away. Abuelita could be really frustrating sometimes. “I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”
Abuelita straightened her shoulders against the pillows. “Claire, I believe the Christian life is the best life to live. But I have found that it is impossible for me to live it.”
“I think that’s how I feel, too.” It surprised Claire to find this common ground, for Abuelita to put into words what she herself had been feeling lately. “I mean, I still believe the things you and Mamá and Daddy taught me as a girl—most of them. I want Graeme to learn to be kind, to share, and to forgive. I even believe, at least I think I do, that God created us and that Jesus came to show us how to live. I try, but as far as experiencing any sense of daily connection with my faith, I just don’t anymore. It’s like this faraway thing—this set of old rules that don’t apply to the game I’m playing.”
Love Finds You in Romeo, Colorado Page 14
