Boss Meets Her Match Page 19

  “What is it now, Charles?” his mother asked. “I have a headache and I’m not in the mood for any of your...”

  “Bullshit,” his father finished for her.

  Matt pulled the armchair around so he was facing them and sat down. “I wanted to apologize.”

  A brief look of surprise crossed their faces before they each settled into their neutral states. Bored for his father and slightly annoyed for his mother. He took a deep breath.

  “I know I wasn’t an easy child. I was terrible, in fact. The things I did. I don’t know why I did them. I don’t know why I was so angry and rebellious. I just was. And I hurt you both. It must have seemed like I was disrespecting everything you’d done for us. I’m sorry.”

  They exchanged puzzled looks. “Well,” his father said. “Okay. I appreciate that.”

  “You were always an ungrateful child,” his mother began. She hushed when her husband placed a hand over hers.

  “He’s apologized, Anne. He’s admitted his mistake and apologized. Let it go now.”

  “Thank you,” Matt said. This was the first time his father had stood up to his mother on his behalf. “I want to try to get past all these feelings we have from what happened back then. Start again. Try to be a family.”

  “Law school?” his father asked. But his tone was questioning, not commanding, another first.

  “No,” he said quietly, shaking his head. “I love what I do. I’m very close to creating my own nonprofit to bring art therapy to kids who really need it.”

  “I’m trying to understand this,” his father said.

  “Here’s how I see it. When Grandfather took over the firm, he modernized it, brought it into the twentieth century. When you took over, you put your own mark on the firm. You expanded the reach and brought it into the digital age. You each took it and made it your own. That’s all I’m trying to do. Build something of my own.”

  His father sat back, nodding. Matt’s heart was beating hard. He’d never opened himself up to them like this before. His mother’s silence did not bode well. But his father’s quiet appraisal did. He held eye contact.

  “That I can understand. And respect.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Matt said, letting out a breath and feeling a weight lift. He looked to his mother. “Mother?”

  “If your father forgives you, then so shall I.”

  Not exactly the Hallmark moment he was looking for, but he’d take it. “Thank you.” He wanted to add an “I love you” to that but the peace seemed too fragile for it. He stood and moved the chair back. “Good night.”

  “Good night, son,” his father said.

  Matt froze. When was the last time his father had called him son? Fifteen? Twenty years? This was going to be okay. They were going to be okay. The war was over.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  “WHO KEEPS TEXTING YOU?”

  Lena stuffed her phone in her bra and looked over at her mother. “Work stuff,” she mumbled.

  “On a Sunday?” Aunt Paula asked, her voice dripping with horrified disapproval.

  “There is no weekend in the financial world.”

  She returned to her assigned task of cutting fruit for sangria. It was a full-family Sunday. Everyone was there or on the way. Lena may have been an only child, but her aunts and uncles had provided her with a multitude of cousins. They had all grown up living either with each other or next door to each other depending on the job market. Now another generation was being added, one baby at a time.

  Her mother set down more oranges. “I’ve never seen you smile at work stuff like that before.”

  Lena looked up into her mother’s knowing eyes and felt her stomach drop. “Good news always makes me smile.” Saying a quick, silent prayer for lying to her mother on a Sunday, Lena put down the knife and dropped the chopped fruit into waiting pitchers.

  “That didn’t look like a business smile,” her mother pressed. “That looked like a personal smile.”

  “A personal smile? What in the heck is that even supposed to mean? Oh, look! Jules is here!”

  That worked. Ana went running to greet Jules. Her first granddaughter. Never mind there was no blood or legalities behind it yet—Ana didn’t need any of that. Lena caught Sadie’s eye and made a face.

  “What’s wrong?” Sadie asked as she sidled up next to Lena at the kitchen counter.

  “Mom’s getting suspicious.”

  “Ha. Good luck trying to hide anything from her. The FBI should hire her. I swear she can smell a secret on anyone.”

  “Where’s Wyatt?”

  “Out on a case. He said he’d swing by if he finishes up in time.”

  “See, Mamacita,” Lena said as Ana came back in the kitchen with her arm draped around Jules’s shoulders. “Wyatt is working today also.”

  “And I’ll bet he’s not smiling at his phone every ten minutes.”

  “Only when I send him cute texts,” Sadie said with a not so innocent smile.

  Lena gave her a death glare, but her mother had already moved her attention to Jules. “Thanks. Get me in trouble.”

  “So,” Sadie purred as she reached for a knife to help with the fruit. “Who’s got you smiling at your phone?”

  “Shut up,” Lena hissed, looking around. “Any of them could be anywhere.”

  “Now you’re just getting paranoid.”

  Voices rose from the front room as more people arrived. “I’m not paranoid,” Lena said, using the noise as cover. “They are up to something.”

  “Paranoid,” Sadie said in a singsong voice.

  “Lena! Sadie! Hi!”

  Lena looked up at her cousin Dan. “Hey, Dan, what’s up? I didn’t know you’d be here today.”

  “Yeah, Mom said it was all-family day or else. And I don’t do ‘or else’ with her.”

  “I know what you mean,” Lena said with a laugh. Dan’s wife, Juana, came in the kitchen, followed by a group of men. She gave Sadie a sidelong glance. “Wow. Hi, Juana. And company.”

  Juana looked slightly embarrassed as she motioned to the four guys who stood behind her. All tall, midtwenties to early thirties, Hispanic. Surprise, surprise. “These are my brothers. They’re visiting from out of town.”

  “Oh? Out of town from where?” Lena asked.

  The men looked at their toes and Juana blushed. “Mount Pleasant,” she mumbled and glanced around. “Estrella asked them.”

  Lena stared. Sadie hip bumped her. “Technically, Lena, Mount Pleasant is another town.”

  Lena put the knife down. Slowly. Deliberately. Before she stabbed someone with it. She wiped her hands on the dishtowel and plucked her phone from her bra. Oh, they all looked up for that. Estrella is dead. Dead. “Excuse me. I have some business to attend to.”

  Up in the guest room, she resisted the urge to slam the door. Instead, she kicked her shoes off against the wall and flopped down on the bed. There was a message from Matt.

  At airport. Will be back in Charleston in a couple hours. Would like to see you tonight.

  She dropped the phone to her chest and stared at the ceiling. There was about to be a major skirmish in the War of the Aunties. Blood might be drawn. She wasn’t sure if she wanted Matt to see her postfamily drama. She lifted the phone.

  Out at my parents’ in Edisto. Don’t know when I’ll get home.

  The door opened and she quickly hid the phone. It was just Sadie. “You see what I’m talking about now? Four? They rounded up four poor guys and had them come out here to see if poor, pathetic, dried-up, old spinster me might be able to entice one of them. They’ve given up on setting me up. They’re doing cattle calls now.”

  “Scoot over,” Sadie said, and plopped down beside her on the bed. “That was...uh...pretty obvious.”

  “T
hat was humiliating. It’s like they’re down to ‘Are you brown? Do you have a penis and a pulse?’ I’m going to kill Estrella.”

  Sadie giggled. “Next, they’ll be bussing them in from Hanahan.”

  “It’s not funny.”

  “Yes, it is. Want me to suggest they just do full-out auditions? We’ll make up questions for them to answer.”

  “Dancing,” Lena said, “I want them to have to dance.”

  “Definitely dancing. Maybe a talent portion?”

  “Yes. I want a husband who can sing.”

  “Oh! A tuxedo competition. See how well they clean up.”

  “Swimsuits!” Lena said, lifting her hand.

  “Underwear!” Sadie said. They both were giggling now.

  “With bowties on!”

  Lena wiped at her streaming eyes and rested her head on Sadie’s shoulder. “Thanks, sis.”

  “Anytime. So, what’s up with the Viking?”

  Lena shrugged. “I don’t know. He’s different than any guy I’ve dated.”

  “You’re dating?”

  “Technically, no. We’re just in the same place at the same time sometimes.”

  “Holy cats, Lena. You are so weird.”

  “I know, it’s...” She glanced at the door. “He scares me a little.”

  “Scares you how?”

  Lena smiled. Street Sadie had shown up in a heartbeat, ready to take on anyone who threatened those she loved. “Not like that. But like...” Her words trailed off. Scared wasn’t exactly the right word.

  Sadie pressed her cheek to the top of Lena’s head. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Do you think he might be the one?”

  “He could be. Sadie. I just never met a man like him. He’s nothing like he appears. There are layers and layers to him. And he’s so talented. And he wants to do something good in this world.”

  “Sounds like you’re moving toward the big l word there, Lena.”

  Her insides went icy cold and a slippery feeling squirmed in her gut. Is that what falling in love feels like? Exciting? Terrifying? Before she could answer or think about it further, the bedroom door opened.

  “There you are,” Ana said from the doorway.

  “We were talking,” Lena said, sitting up in the bed.

  “You are being rude. Ignoring your guests.”

  Lena stared, openmouthed, at her mother. Even Sadie’s hand on her arm couldn’t stem the rise of fury. “They are not my guests,” she hissed. “They are Estrella’s guests. She can entertain them. And you all are being rude to me. Dragging these poor men here.”

  Sadie rolled off the bed. “I think I’ll just go see what Jules is doing.”

  There was a long silence after Sadie deserted her. Lena crossed her arms against her chest but didn’t lower her eyes. She matched her mother, glare to glare. She felt like a petulant child, but seriously. They’d had this conversation. Her mother had promised to put an end to this nonsense.

  “Magdalena,” Ana said with a sigh. She came to sit on the edge of the bed. “We just want what’s best for you.”

  “I know that, Mom. But I can find my own husband.”

  “Can you? You don’t seem to be doing too well in that department. When was the last time you dated a man more than a few weeks?”

  Lena felt her face burn. Just because she was picky didn’t mean she couldn’t sustain a relationship. “That has nothing to do with anything. If I know it’s not working out, I move on. I’m not staying with a man just to have a man.”

  “It’s because you date white men.”

  “What?” The word fell out of her mouth. She stared at her mother, barely believing the words she’d spoken. “What did you just say?”

  “I’m sorry. I know how it sounds, but Lena, listen to me. You need a man who understands you. Understands the extra challenges you and your family face every day.”

  “I can’t believe you just said that, Mother. What does skin color have to do with understanding people? You and Poppa taught me better than that.”

  But even as the words left her mouth, they rang sanctimonious in her ears. She’d thought things about Matt that weren’t far from what her mother was saying. Shame burned hot and cold in her gut.

  “It isn’t racist. I’m not saying that some people are better than others based on skin color. I’m just saying a Hispanic man will understand the challenges you have.”

  “I don’t have any challenges that I haven’t handled all by myself.”

  Lena scrambled off the bed. Her heart was pounding even as an icy cold washed over her. Her stomach felt like a tight fist. Her mother was holding up a mirror to all the things Lena tried to pretend didn’t exist. Because on the flip side of overcoming challenges was the assumption by some that you were given an easier path because of those challenges. And the implication that she hadn’t earned her accomplishments by her own talent and not some bar lowered for her was infuriating.

  “Lena.” Her mother’s voice was low and calm as she rose to her feet. “Tell me, then, why you won’t go to the grocery store in sweatpants and a T-shirt. Tell me why you won’t speak in Spanish when you are in public. Tell me why you feel you need to be perfectly put together at all times.”

  Lena pressed her lips together. “That’s just how I am. I don’t like to look sloppy.” The excuse came out sounding weak and they all knew it.

  Ana stood and threw her hands up. “Fine. Keep believing that. You think because all those rich white people let you take care of their money, invite you to their fancy parties, have you over to dinner, that they don’t see your brown skin? Tell me, Lena, when you are at those fancy parties, how many other people of color are there?”

  “What are you saying, Momma? That I’ve only achieved the success I have because white people are keeping me around as some sort of token. That I’m their pet brown person? Because that is a lie. I know people think that, but I was given no special treatment. And it’s insulting to me to say so.”

  “No, Lena. You are taking this all wrong. It has nothing to do with them or you or the hard work you’ve done. It’s about having a safe place from the world. About having someone who completely understands without needing explanations.”

  “I have to go. I can’t even with this discussion.”

  Grabbing her shoes, she stomped barefoot down the staircase. Ignoring the people gathered in the large living room area, she headed straight for the door. And got her hand on the doorknob...

  “Magdalena Teresa Reyes! You stop right there,” her mother ordered, in Spanish, from the staircase. “We are going to finish this discussion. We can finish it here or in private, but it is going to be finished.”

  Oh, she was pulling out the big guns. One, she three-named her. Two, she was speaking in Spanish, which meant she was extra mad. Three, she was fully ready to have this out in front of everyone, including the four poor, innocent bachelors. Well, fine.

  Turning around, she glared around the room. “Tu y tu,” she said, pointing at Paula and Estrella. She snapped her fingers. “Vámonos.”

  She headed back up the staircase, brushing past her mother. When all three of the older women were behind the closed door of her room, Lena pointed at them.

  “Enough,” she said. “All of this foolishness stops right now. It’s not only extremely irritating and rude to me, but to these poor men that you are dragging here and throwing at me.”

  “Lena, we just want...” her mother began in a more consolatory tone than Lena expected.

  But she was not consoled. “I know what you want. To make it easier for me. Well, I don’t want easy. I want to be madly, crazy in love with my future husband. Nothing’s ever been easy for me. And what’s more, you’re wrong. Just because someone isn’t Hispanic doesn’t mean they can’t understand me. Look
at Sadie. And while I’m thinking about it, look at that guy I dated in high school. He was one hundred percent Mexican, but did he understand me? No! He hit me.”

  “That’s not the same,” Paula began. “Just because that one boy—”

  “Excuse me. I hate to be rude, but I am not asking any of you. I am telling you. No more of this.”

  Paula and Estrella looked at her murderously. Never before had she raised her voice to one of her elders. Heart pounding, she pressed her lips together to keep from babbling out apologies. She had to stand her ground on this. And as for her mother... Now her lips were pressed together in a clear attempt to keep from crying. She couldn’t believe her mother had said such things to her.

  The door opened and Sadie quietly slipped in. She took one look at Lena and stepped between her and the women. “I don’t know what’s going on, but let’s give Lena some room here, okay? Everyone can just cool down before things are said.”

  Estrella snorted. “Things have already been said.”

  With that, she and Paula left the room. Ana approached her daughter and touched her cheek. “I know you are angry, Lena. But you think about what I said. You’ll know it’s true.”

  Lena turned her head away, sending tears spilling down her cheeks. Why did this hurt so badly? It wasn’t the fixing up. It was her mother’s words on race. It felt like an attack. Not on her, but on...

  * * *

  “LENA, WHAT HAPPENED?” Sadie asked, pulling her into an embrace.

  “My mother is a horrible person,” Lena managed between shuddering sighs as she tried to force back the tears.

  “She is not a horrible person and you know it.”

  Pulling away, Lena found some tissue and wiped at her eyes. Matt. The image of him appeared crystal clear in her mind’s eye. It felt like an attack on him. She lifted her hand to cover her mouth. All those things. All those horrible things you thought about Matt. Rich white boy. Frat boy.

  “What?” Sadie demanded.

  “Oh my God, Sades,” she whispered. “I’m racist.”