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“Even though I deserve it?”
“All they know is our marriage didn’t work. I haven’t spoken about you in years.”
Ouch. That bit of information hit hard and caused a twist of pain in her chest. She didn’t want him to badmouth her, but to know she hadn’t been mentioned…
“That’s good, I guess,” Annabelle said, taking another sip of wine.
A member of the staff came out to the terrace and placed small plates and the empanadas on the long, linen-covered table.
Contessa, Dante’s mother, stopped talking to Clifton and eyed the food with interest. “Oh, empanadas.” Her curly black hair was tapered in the back, and she wore a pair of small diamond-drop earrings that sparkled when the light from the candles in the wrought-iron lanterns hit them.
“The chef created a fusion dinner—a marriage of the cuisine of both cultures—and these empanadas contain barbecued beef,” Annabelle explained. “Everyone, please, let’s sit, and then you can help yourselves.”
Emilio was the first to approach the table, then Marisol, Dante’s sister. She had wavy dark-blonde hair and seemed quieter than Emilio. Annabelle sat between her and Dante, while Contessa, Emilio, and Edgar sat on the opposite side. Clifton settled at the head of the table.
The small plates and empanadas were passed around.
“These are delicious,” Emilio said, nodding his head as he chewed.
Annabelle stifled a moan. “They are.”
Contessa dabbed her mouth with a napkin. “Thank you for inviting us to dinner,” she said to Clifton.
“Thank you for joining us. I’m glad we have the opportunity to sit down and meet this time. Our families will be forever joined together because of our children, and it’s important we become closer and better acquainted.”
Dante’s parents nodded and murmured their agreement, while acid-like guilt gnawed at the inside of Annabelle’s stomach. Their families were planning for forever, while she and Dante knew about the one-year expiration date on their marriage. She took a swig of water to quell the burn of their lies.
“You have such a beautiful home. Is this one of the houses that you built?” Edgar asked.
Clifton placed another empanada on his plate. “Yes, it is. My company built this house and most of the homes in this development, in fact. My late wife had excellent taste and spent a lot of time decorating this one, though Annie and I have made minor changes in recent years. We’ve had many events here—family gatherings, dinners like this, and of course the engagement party.”
“I wish we could have come to the party. Dante sent photos and a video, and you looked lovely,” Contessa said to Annabelle.
She couldn’t read Dante’s mother. She seemed friendly, but she also knew how mothers and their sons could be, especially someone as accomplished at Dante. His mother would want a special woman for him.
“Thank you.”
The same staff member returned, this time accompanied by Grace, and both of them carried platters of food, the mouth-watering aromas mingling with the scent of the magnolias in the yard. They made several trips, each time elicitingoohsfrom the gathered group as they placed the dishes on the table to be served family style.
On the last delivery, Grace stood beside the table. “The chef has prepared a meal to represent Venezuelan cuisine and the best of Texan cuisine. You have tender brisket marinated in his own blend of spices,arepas, grilled plantains, and cornbread. Here, there is more grilled meats—sausage and chicken, again with his own blend of spices. Black beans, macaroni and cheese. Please save room for dessert. We have peach cobbler and très leches cake, and I know you don’t want to miss either of those.”
“So much food.Ay, Dios,” Clifton said.
The group broke out in laughter, and the tension Annabelle felt—real or imagined—dispersed.
“I did not know you speak Spanish,” Edgar said with amusement.
“I don’t, but all this food required that exclamation. Thank you, Grace. You, Chef, and Annie did a wonderful job planning the menu. I can’t wait to sink my teeth into the brisket and tryarepasfor the first time.”
“Only a spoonful of dessert for you,” Annabelle reminded him. If she didn’t stay on top of his diet, he’d eat himself into a sugar coma. His sweet tooth was legendary.
“I think that requires anotheray, dios,” Emilio remarked.
After another round of laughter, Grace left them alone, and they started passing around the food. When everyone had a full plate, the conversation started in earnest.
“Tell me about the work you do. Dante said you started an app?” Clifton addressed Emilio with his question.
“Yes, it’s a rideshare app,comoUber and Lyft. They are not available yet in my country, so I created my own. Dante helped me finance the idea. We are a small but growing company, with nine employees.”
