The Boyfriend of the Month Club (7 page)

“Don’t change the subject,” Grace said. “We were talking about your divorce from Craig.”

“Did someone just say donuts?” Grace turned to find Charlie standing behind her. “I could down a few dozen right now.” He patted his flat stomach. “I’m starving.” Charlie’s metabolism was legendary, a thing of disgusting beauty. Grace studied her brother’s face. What she needed to know, she figured out in two seconds. Poor Phoebe. She was a goner. The only thing Charlie was in love with was a chocolate-glazed Krispy Kreme.

“Have you no shame?” she asked her brother.

“What do I have to be ashamed about?” He reached over and tousled the hair on top of Sarah’s head the way he did every time he saw her. “Hey, squirt. What’s shakin’?”

Charlie had called Sarah squirt ever since Grace could remember, but the nickname hadn’t fit Sarah since they’d graduated parochial school. Sarah might be vertically challenged, but she was the epitome of elegance. Kind of like Grace Kelly but with just the right amount of curves.

Sarah’s traditional response to Charlie’s “What’s shakin’?” was always “Wouldn’t you like to find out?” But before she could say it, Grace interrupted them. “Charlie, when did you start bringing your girlfriends to Mass?”

He looked startled. “Who said Phoebe was my girlfriend?”

“Are you sleeping with her?” Grace asked.

Charlie didn’t even blink. “Nope.”

“Okay, wrong question. Are you having sex with her?”

“Isn’t that a little indelicate considering where we’re at?”

“That means yes. So if you’re having sex with her and you’ve brought her to Mass to meet the family, then she’s your girlfriend. Jeez, Charlie! When are you going to grow up? I haven’t even met her and I like her already. And now you’ve dragged the whole family into it, and then in approximately one month, when she breaks up with you because you’re acting like a total ass hat, Abuela and Mami are going to be really disappointed.”

Charlie had the look of someone who was being unfairly attacked. “For your information, I didn’t bring Phoebe to Mass. She asked me what I was doing today and I told her I spent Sunday afternoons with my family. First Mass, then supper at the house. When we got here, she was waiting outside. What was I supposed to do? Ignore her? Then after Abuela found out we knew each other, she insisted Phoebe sit with us. I was ambushed!”

Sarah chuckled. “I like how this girl works. You have my permission to marry her, Charles.”

Charlie shot Sarah a warning look. “Not funny,” he said.

“Yes, it is,” Sarah replied.

“Stop it you two. Charlie is right. This isn’t funny.”

Sarah’s smile vanished. “Sorry.” She turned to Charlie. “What’s wrong with you? The girl is gorgeous and she’s obviously
way
into you. Give her a break. Maybe she’s the one, only you’re too stupid to give her a chance.” Sarah stomped off toward the parish hall. “I don’t know about you two, but I need a donut!”

Charlie stared at Sarah’s retreating back.

“Don’t take it personally,” Grace said. “It’s this divorce from Craig.”

The mention of Craig’s name made a muscle on the side of Charlie’s face twitch. “What’s that bastard done now?” he asked. Grace couldn’t help but find his brotherly affection for Sarah touching.

“Nothing. At least, I hope nothing. I think Sarah still blames herself for the marriage falling apart, and it’s eating her up. You know Sarah. She’s a perfectionist.”

“Who’s up for donuts?” Pop came up and placed an arm around Grace’s shoulder. “And speaking of food, how’s my Tomato this morning?”

Tomato was the affectionate nickname Abuela had given Grace as a little girl. Abuela gave everyone nicknames. The names were usually based on a physical trait. For instance, the neighbor next door, Mr. Abernathy, was tall and pigeon-toed, so he became the
pato flaco
, or the skinny duck. But sometimes the nicknames were based on personality quirks. Even earlier than when Charlie had christened Grace
Mal Genio
, Abuela had given her two grandchildren the titles of
Lechuga y Tomate
, Lettuce and Tomato. Charlie was the Lettuce, cool and crisp. And Grace was the Tomato because, well . . . because she was the opposite of that. Pop had stolen the nickname the second it had come out of Abuela’s mouth.

“Pop, I need to talk to you today. In private.”

“No one is eating donuts when I have a huge dinner waiting at home. Especially not you,” Mami said to Pop. “Remember your high blood pressure.” Whenever Mami reminded Pop of his high blood pressure it always made his face go red.

Abuela had her arm linked around Phoebe’s like they were already the best of friends. Abuela liked everybody. Except Fidel Castro, of course. But he didn’t count. “Won’t this be nice! A big family dinner with both my grandchildren.”

Charlie introduced Grace to Phoebe. She was in her first year at the law firm and Charlie was her mentor. Grace almost snickered at the mentor part. She really hoped Charlie was telling the truth about his relationship with Phoebe. Sleeping with someone you worked with was never a good career move.

“I’m so glad to finally meet Charlie’s family!” Phoebe gushed. “He’s always talking about you and your parents and the store and your wonderful
abuelita
.”

“Gracielita,” said Abuela, “go find Sarah and invite her to dinner. It’s been too long since she’s eaten at the house.” She patted Phoebe on the arm. “Why don’t we go back inside the church and light a candle to the Virgin? I have a special intention I’ve just thought of.” Abuela caught Grace’s gaze and winked.

Grace gave Charlie an “I-told-you-so look.”

“I’ll go find Sarah,” Charlie muttered. “The more the merrier.”

Grace could only shake her head at her brother’s naivety. If Charlie thought there was safety in numbers, then he didn’t know much about women.

Grace opened the door to the den to find Pop rifling through the shelves, trying to find some family photos that Phoebe had insisted on seeing (Sarah was right—this Phoebe was good). It was the first time since they’d been at the house that Grace had found an opportunity to talk to her father alone.

Pamphlets with pictures of Big Ben and the Eiffel Tower were strewn over the desk in the center of the room. Her parents’ thirty-fifth wedding anniversary was in April. To celebrate, they were going on their first trip to Europe. Pop pulled out a photo album. “Look what I found, Tomato. Your high school album!”

“I think we should open the store on Sundays,” Grace blurted. No sense in beating about the bush.

Pop smiled like he’d heard this a thousand times before. Which he had. “We aren’t opening the shop on Sunday. It’s a family business, and Sunday is a family day.”

“I get that. But it’s also a lost day in revenue. People travel on Sundays, Pop. And they stop and spend money. Only they don’t spend money at Florida Charlie’s because it isn’t open. You wouldn’t have to be at the store. Lots of the kids we hire would love extra money. We could pay them time and half if that would make you feel better.”

“What if something goes wrong? What if we need a manager on site? That would mean you or Penny or your mother or I would have to go in and take care of the crisis.” He shook his head. “We’ve discussed this before and my answer is still the same.”

Grace bit back a frustrated reply and opted for a more tactful approach. “Pop, you pay me to manage the store, and as the manager, I feel that it’s in the business’s best interests to open on Sunday. How about if I draw up a plan that would show some projected revenue figures? I could train Marty or one of the other senior cashiers to handle any emergency that might come up. We could do a trial run. Maybe open one Sunday a month and see how it goes?”

Pop flipped open the photo album. “Remember this? It’s your senior prom.”

“Yeah, I remember. Lots of fun. So how about it, Pop?”

“I’ll think about it.”

Grace knew exactly what “I’ll think about it” meant. It meant no.

“Speaking of the store,” Pop said, “I stopped by yesterday. Grace, honey, I thought I told you I wanted that alligator tooth up front where the customers can see it. We spent a lot of money advertising that tooth. Folks driving down on vacation see the billboards on the highway, get all excited about it, then come into the store to find that the tooth is stuck somewhere in the back. No hoopla, no fanfare, no nuthin. Remember, presentation is everything. My dad taught me that.”

“Pop,” Grace said gently, “I just don’t think people are
into
that kind of stuff anymore. People stop at the store to buy T-shirts, and sunscreen, and hats.”

Pop placed his hand on the small of her back and led her out of the den and into the dining room where the rest of the family and Sarah and Phoebe were already seated. “It’s Sunday, and we don’t talk business on Sunday, right?”

“Right,” Grace repeated, knowing there was no point in arguing further. If Charlie said something, though, then maybe Pop would listen. Grace thought about the best way to approach her brother. Charlie wasn’t interested in the family business as a career, but Grace knew he didn’t want to see Florida Charlie’s go down the drain. If Grace asked Charlie, he would offer to help. But Charlie was so busy with his job that he was always making promises he never followed up on. This time though, he was just going to have to make time. Grace would have to impress upon him the seriousness of the situation.

Pop took his customary seat at the head of the table, opposite Mami. Grace sat next to Abuela, and Charlie sat across from them, in between Sarah and Phoebe.

Mami passed around the
arroz con pollo
while Phoebe entertained them with a story that involved Charlie and a client from the firm. The way Phoebe told it made Charlie sound like the Clarence Darrow of tax attorneys. Mami and Pop listened proudly, while Sarah pretended to be impressed (Grace knew
that
was an act). Grace didn’t think she’d ever seen Charlie look so miserable.

“These are the best
tostones
I’ve ever had!” Phoebe said, “Thank you, Mrs. O’Bryan, for having me over today.”

“You’re very welcome,” Mami said, catching Grace’s eye. Grace tried not to laugh.

Mami was a fabulous cook, but Abuela, who was fabulous herself (just not in the kitchen) had made the
tostones
. As usual they were dry as a rock, but no one in the family would ever think of saying anything to Abuela about it. The fact that Phoebe had singled out the
tostones
to compliment either meant that Phoebe didn’t know much about Cuban food or she was just really brown nosing. Grace would guess it was a solid combination of both.

Abuela leaned over and whispered, “What do you think of her?”

“She seems nice.”

“She’s not the one,” Abuela whispered back. “I had hoped . . . maybe there was something. But no.”

Grace just nodded, because there wasn’t anything else to say really. She wondered how long it had taken Abuela to figure it out. Probably less time than it had taken Grace. Abuela might be eighty-two but she didn’t miss anything.

“What about you, Gracielita? When are you going to bring someone home to Sunday dinner?” Abuela asked, her eyes bright.

“When I find someone as terrific as Pop.”

Mami, overhearing this, smiled at Grace.

Abuela reached for Grace’s hand and covered it with her own. “You’ve already met him.”

“What? No, Abuela, I’m not dating anyone right now.”

Grace tried to lift her hand to resume eating, but Abuela tightened her grip. “You’ve already met him,
mi amor
, trust me. I’ve seen it.”

A shiver ran down Grace’s spine. Abuela had never talked like this before. Grace had told Brandon’s obnoxious friend Doug that her grandmother dabbled in
brujería
, but it was a lie, of course. Abuela herself scoffed at all that Latin mumbo jumbo. Occasionally, Abuela would do something crazy, like throw buckets of water out the front door at the stroke of midnight on New Year’s (to toss out evil spirits), but that was done in the spirit of fun. The only exception to this was Abuela’s belief in the well-placed curse. Abuela wore a black onyx around her neck—an
azabache
—to ward off the
mal ojo
, or evil eye. But deep down, Grace suspected the only reason Abuela wore the
azabache
was because her own mother had given it to her, not because she attributed any special powers to it. But gazing at her clear brown eyes right now, Grace could tell Abuela was one hundred percent, drop-dead serious about what she’d just said.

“I had a dream,” Abuela said stubbornly. “You’ve met him, Gracielita, you just wait and see.”

Grace laughed nervously.

Mami set her fork down. “What’s wrong with your mouth?” she asked, frowning.

Crap
. Grace shrugged like she didn’t understand what Mami was getting at.

“You don’t normally laugh with your mouth closed,” Mami continued. “Is there something wrong with your teeth? Do you have a toothache?”

“Tomato takes after me. Never had a cavity in her life,” Pop said. “She has a beautiful set of teeth. Cost me five grand.”

Sarah smiled impishly from across the table.

Later, after dinner, she and Sarah were alone in the kitchen, drying dishes.

“Why didn’t you just show everyone your chipped tooth? You have to admit, the whole thing is kind of funny.” Sarah automatically placed the large salad bowl in the top cabinet above the dishwasher. Sarah had been eating meals at Grace’s house since first grade and was probably as familiar with the kitchen as anyone in the O’Bryan family.

“Funny to you maybe.”

“Show me again,” Sarah prompted.

Grace smiled widely.

“It’s hardly noticeable, unless you know exactly where to look for it.”

“Know where to look for what?” Charlie asked, sauntering into the kitchen. He reached inside the refrigerator, pulled out a couple of beers, and automatically offered one to Sarah.

Sarah pulled off the tab and took a sip. “Grace chipped her bottom tooth the other night. But don’t tell your parents, on account of all the money they spent on braces.”