Hector Ramirez had that feeling in his gut, that feeling that told him he wasn’t going to like whatever it was his daughter had to tell him. At the Riverside Bistro, of all places, and only an hour and a half before Los Tres opened for lunch. He was hassled, irritated, surly, and wet when he stepped through the heavy glass doors and saw her standing in the entryway, wringing her hands and waiting for him.
He took off his fedora and shook it to the side of the no-slip industrial entry mat. He had the same one at Los Tres. He had never been in the Riverside, but he guessed the similarities between his place and this one would pretty much end at the floor mat. He snorted to himself. Brunch. He shook his head and looked at his daughter.
The feeling in his gut got worse. She looked very nervous. When his Magdalena looked nervous it meant she was feeling guilty and if she was feeling guilty then she’d done something wrong. He clucked his tongue softly and wondered, not for the first time, what news was big enough, what kind of news could possibly need to be told over Brunch at one of the town’s most pricey restaurants?
His father’s intuition told him it had to do with a boy. Hector felt vaguely antagonistic already.
“Magdalena.” He greeted, unable or unwilling to keep that tone of fatherly disapproval out of his voice. He may as well have said: “Young lady…” He used her full name, none of the pet names he liked to pepper her with. Today she was Magdalena, not Maggie, not Magalita, not Magpie.
She straightened her spine, ceased her fidgeting and crossed to peck him on the cheek. “Papa. Thank you for coming.”
He raised his eyebrows and sighed heavily. “I have to get back before we open.” He grumbled.
She stood, waiting.
“Are we waiting for someone?” He asked when she made no move to enter the restaurant.
“No, no—“ she cast a surreptitious glance to his right. Following her eyes Hector was startled to find a small, wrinkled, blue-haired matron watching them openly from an enclosed counter.
“Care to check your hat and coat sir?” The old thing asked dryly, her voice deep and husky from years of cigarettes.
So the Riverside Bistro was the type of place that had a coat check. Hector resisted the urge to growl and muscled himself out of his durable canvas jacket. He’d rushed to dress, settling on a polo shirt usually reserved for Sunday Mass, and black trousers. He’d keep the trousers on for Los Tres and only have to switch shirts. He didn’t have a nicer overcoat than the canvas one except for his heavy wool winter coat, and he only wore that to funerals or high holy days.
Handing the very wet jacket and fedora to the woman and receiving a small heavy-plastic number token in return Hector couldn’t help but grimace. No good would come of this brunch. He was sure of it.
He turned back to Magdalena and she tried to win him over with a small smile. She looked enough like her mother when she made that face that he softened a little. He looked her up and down. She was wearing a dark red dress, expensive looking and too low in the neckline for his liking. He saw her swallow hard.
“You should have a sweater on or something.” He told her gruffly. She was dressed too nice to be working here, he decided, relieved at least that she wouldn’t be abandoning him at Los Tres completely. He already disapproved of her part-time job at the Wine Store, complaining that he needed her at the family restaurant, but she’d been stubborn as a mule about it.
She deflected his fashion critique. “Ready?” It sounded as if she were asking it of herself more than him.
She began to walk into the restaurant, reining her pace until he met her stride.
“Did you win the lottery or something?” Hector wondered how much this little meal would end up costing him.
A handsome woman stepped in front of their path. “Do you have reservations?” She asked, not exactly rude, but not exactly polite either.
The Riverside Bistro was the kind of place that required reservations at 11:45 in the morning. Hector snorted again. He had to admit that the soft, warm lighting was enchanting and the richness of the décor was simple; tasteful, elegant, modern and very expensive looking. They had a wide variety of ferns and potted trees and plants and all the artwork was framed in wide, bold, black, and the earth tones were very effective. He tisked.
“Um, we’re with someone.” Maggie told the hostess, a small note of panic coloring her words. Hector had the feeling that Maggie thought they might be denied entrance.
“With which party?” Enquired the hostess, a false smile locked into place under humorless eyes. Hector thought she could be an attractive woman if she weren’t so cold and suspicious.
“Over there—“ Maggie gestured toward the back of the restaurant where a wide panoramic view curved across the entire back wall of the Bistro. Hector let out a low whistle. That was a view to be envied. It looked as though the Restaurant was floating right out over top of the river, and the view of the falls was stunning.
The Hostess tuned over her shoulder and turned back, a skeptical eyebrow raised. “I’m sorry, which party?”
Hector heard his daughter huff just a little.
“Delaney” she answered defiantly. Had he not been so astonished by what she’d said he might have chuckled at her fiery temper. She was so much like her mother.
“Delaney?” Hector and the hostess spoke in unison. Hector wondered if this was some kind of work thing afterall. Had she been promoted at the wine shop?
“Yes, Delaney.” Said Maggie, stepping resolutely around the hostess and striding into the dining room. Hector hustled to catch up, but not before sharing an astonished look with the hostess.
Maggie made a bee-line for the back of the restaurant where Jonah Delaney, his wife Velvet, and their son Grey all rose to greet them. Hector knew these Delaneys well enough. Besides being wealthy and prominent in the community, Jonah was also deputy superintendent of schools, and the couple were frequent patrons of Los Tres.
These were not the owners of the Wine Shoppe, Hector was certain of that, this was the brother of Magdalena’s employer. Hector’s puzzlement furrowed his brow and he didn’t doubt he looked fearsome as he approached the table. The young man seemed to wash over pale for a moment before extending his hand in greeting.
“Mr. Ramirez.” When the young man spoke it was with confidence that betrayed none of the alarm Hector was sure he’d seen as he’s neared. “A pleasure to meet you sir. I’m Grey Delaney.”
So this was about a boy. Hector said a sort of half-prayer half-oath inside his head. To be the father of daughters!
Hector managed to nod, though not to smile. He turned toward the boy’s parents. What in God’s name was this ambush all about?
“My father, Jonah Delaney,” the young man continued formally. Hector shook the man’s hand. He wondered why this man should look so joyful when he, of all men should sympathize, having four daughters of his own to deal with. Perhaps the man was celebrating the fact that he was here as the father of a son today and not the other way around. It would be so much easier to have sons.
“Mr. Ramirez, good to meet you.” Said Jonah cordially as he pumped Hector’s hand. “My wife, Velvet.” He stepped out of the way so his elegant wife could move forward to greet Hector.
She took his hand in both hers and then moved in to kiss his cheeks, first one then the other. “Mr. Ramirez!” she exclaimed and he felt flustered by her effusive enthusiasm. Her radiant smile was so infectious he had little choice but to melt a bit and allowed a polite, an almost sheepish smile.
“Mr. and Mrs. Delaney.” Hector nodded. “It’s good to see you both.” ‘Outside the world of my restaurant’ he added silently.
Jonah Delaney moved around Hector and extended his hand toward Magdalena. “Jonah Delaney.” He introduced himself warmly.
“Maggie.” She answered almost shyly. Hector resisted the impulse to scoff. His Maggie was not a shy girl. It must have been the surroundings. Even he felt a bit intimidated.
“Please, let’s sit!” Mrs. Delaney cooed warmly. Her husband moved to hold the chair for her and when Hector made to follow suit he found Grey Delaney already moving to hold his daughter’s chair.
Christ almighty. Hector grabbed the back of his own chair roughly and planted himself at the table, readying himself for a brunch he sincerely wished weren’t happening.
Magdalena was still young. She was still his little girl. Of course he recognized that she was eighteen now, a college student, and had been excessively independent since about the age of twelve, but none of that mattered. He knew she wasn’t ready for, well, for whatever warranted a brunch date at The Riverside.
When all were seated a silence settled over the table. Everyone looked at each other. Finally Mrs. Delaney laughed. It was a musical thing, light and sweet and full of warmth. Hector instantly liked her very much. She was elegant, surely, but she didn’t seem to be the snob some might have guessed her to be. She was always down-to-earth and kind whenever she visited Los Tres, and his waiters and busboys loved her because she tipped fifty percent every time without fail.
“Can I expect you this Thursday Mr. and Mrs. Delaney?” Hector asked, smiling a little and trying to relax. It helped to talk shop. There were few subjects Hector preferred to talk about more. The store, his girls’ achievements, his dreams for retirement, and futbol. Those were his topics of choice, and possibly in that order. Today he feared would turn to talk of his daughter and, not feeling quite ready, he deflected before it began.
Jonah chuckled. “Are we that predictable?” Velvet shared his laughter. The young people, Hector noticed, smiled-- but the smile didn’t reach the eyes. That feeling in his gut soured further.
“I like predictable patrons!” Hector responded jovially “You are some of my most loyal customers.”
“We love your restaurant!” Velvet confided. “I think I’d eat there more often if Jonah would let me!”
“We’d eat there every night I think, if she had her way.” Hector envied the man’s relaxed posture. He’d like to see this man when a daughter of his would spring something like this on him.
A waitress approached the table then for drink orders. Normally Hector reserved the drinking of spirits for Sundays, baptisms, first communions, weddings or funerals. Today he ordered a Tequila Sunrise. His daughter shot him a look. “What? It’s brunch.”
She looked embarrassed. Did she object to his drinking or was it that she didn’t want him ordering tequila in front of these WASPs? He bristled a little at the thought.
Mr. Delaney smiled at the exchange. He seemed to be in a very pleasant mood indeed and Hector almost resented the man’s good cheer.
“I’ll have one too, I think.” Jonah said to the waitress.
Hector appreciated the gesture of camaraderie, recognizing that Mr. Delaney would not normally order a tequila drink of his own volition, but that same gesture made him feel even more grim about the looming news.
When the drink orders had been placed Velvet whispered some instructions to the waitress before dismissing her.
“Should we wait for Mrs. Ramirez?” Asked Velvet, eyes wide.
Hector didn’t speak. He wasn’t sure why, but he suddenly felt tongue tied.
“My mother passed away.” Maggie said for the both of them, simply. It had been years. There was no sorrow, no fresh stab, it was fact.
“Oh I’m so sorry!” She looked horrified that she’d made such a faux pas. Hector’s heart went out to her.
“Not at all, not at all Mrs. Delaney. I’ve been a widower for many years.” He said soothingly. He didn’t want to make her feel awkward.
She almost looked more pained. “Oh, Mr. Ramirez, please, forgive me—“
“Please; Hector.” Hector said warmly.
She smiled. “Hector.”
“No apologies necessary.” He smiled and gave a short nod and it was understood that the topic was closed.
“Well thank you so much for coming over on such short notice.” Hector admired her grace and ease with conversation. She was a true lady; she had the ability to put those around her at ease and to charm without being smarmy. “I had to beg Jonah to leave work!” she put her hand on her husband’s where it lay on the table and he smiled.
“It wasn’t easy to get away.” Jonah admitted. “But,” and now he looked at his son “It sounded very important.” There was that easy smile again.
Grey Delaney stared back at his father and Hector detected a streak of defiance in the look, insolence even, though the young man wore an effectively masked expression of pleasant neutrality. Hector let his eyes move to his daughter. She was unable to paste such a neutral face over her brimming emotions. She was nervous and looked a bit ill.
“Yes,” Hector agreed with Jonah after a moment. “Maggie knows how busy I am before the restaurant opens but she insisted I come down to brunch.” He smiled, letting the statement sound more jovial than he felt about it.
“Oh, apologies about the last-minute nature of it all!” Mrs. Delaney flashed a thrilled smile. “It was an impulse and I just had to do it!” She lifted her shoulders up in excitement.
“This was your idea?” Hector couldn’t help smiling at the lady.
“Guilty.” She said as she reached for her goblet of ice water. The parents all shared a small laugh while their children smiled politely.
A busboy came to remove the extra place setting. Hector wished powerfully that his Rose could be there across the table from him, helping him deal with whatever this was shaping up to be. Maggie too looked a bit distracted by the removal of the unnecessary setting. He watched her hand unconsciously float up to her chest where she twisted her saint’s medal between her thumb and forefinger, her eyes far away.
“Well I’m not sure I can stand the anticipation.” Jonah said so that Hector wouldn’t have to do it. Hector gave the slightest nod of thanks to the man and they shared a small moment of mutual understanding. “What’s the occasion?”
“Oh!” Velvet looked torn between delight and anxiety. “Not yet!” She leaned a little in her seat and scanned the restaurant with her eyes, looking for someone or something. “Maggie tell us about yourself!”
All eyes went to Magdalena, who looked distinctly on-the-spot. She shook her head slightly and Hector imagined he could almost hear the butterflies flapping in her stomach. “Tell you—what?”
“Tell us about yourself, your interests, your work?” Velvet was engaging, not demanding. She coaxed instead of prodded.
“Well, I work at Los Tres of course—“ she began self-consciously. “And three days a week at Delaney’s Wine Shoppe—“ She continued and Jonah gave a little ‘aha’ of recognition. He’d probably seen her there before. Hector was trying to piece this all together. Jonah was just meeting his daughter for the first time right now, just as he, Hector was meeting the Delaney boy for the first time. But Mrs. Delaney seemed to already be acquainted with Maggie, yet not well, yet well enough to want to have a big family brunch? Hector shook his head and looked around fruitlessly for his Tequila drink.
“And I started college this past fall.” Maggie finished.
“What’s your major—have you chosen yet?” Jonah sipped some water and leaned forward.
“Elementary Education.” Maggie answered with a smile, which Jonah returned.
“Wonderful!” he seemed genuinely enthusiastic. “Are you interested in public or private schools?”
“Public, preferably,” Maggie answered immediately “But I’m open to charter schools as well, if their mission is strong and their methods are innovative.”
Hector and Grey wore similar expressions of bewilderment. Hector had never bothered asking her questions about her plans for the future other than to ask how she planned on paying for college and if she was choosing a solid career for herself. He watched the boy’s face and realized that Grey’d probably never inquired about his daughter’s career path either, at least not more than in a superficial way.
“Ahh, very wise of you.” Jonah praised. “Charters can be enormously inventive and productive places for young teachers. It can be a great way to get experience—“
The waitress arrived with a tray of drinks.
“—Of course I have to encourage you to look into the public schools here.” He and Velvet laughed. “I might get fired if I speak too kindly of private schools and charters.”
“I went to private school.” Grey said, lifting his freshly delivered Bloody Mary to his lips.
“And I almost never hear the end of it at work!” Jonah wasn’t allowing his son’s arrogant disdain to quell his high spirits. Hector looked from father to son. He’d heard that Jonah wasn’t the boy’s real father and looking at them now Hector had no doubts about the veracity of those rumors. Whatever had happened had happened before Hector and Rosa and the girls moved to Cedar Falls. The boy did look familiar to Hector, but then, the young man frequented Los Tres enough over the years to be recognizable. But this boy was not this man’s son.
“And how old are you sweetheart?” Velvet asked Maggie, diffusing whatever smart-ass comment her son was preparing to shoot back at her husband. Hector got the impression that she performed that task frequently, so skilled was she in the execution.
“I’m eighteen.” Answered Maggie.
All the drinks were on the table and another waitress arrived to flank the first, holding a wine bucket in one hand and three flutes in the other. A third waiter arrived with an additional pair of flutes and in a coordinated effort the three placed champagne flutes infront of all the party members and left the ice bucket on a small collapsible tray table beside Mrs. Delaney. The riverside Bistro was the kind of place that could spare three waitstaff members to deliver Champagne and glasses in perfect coordination.
Hector grimaced. Champagne. His mood darkened and he refused to look toward his daughter. He focused all his attention on the arrogant young man across the table from him. He sincerely wanted the boy to feel threatened.
Grey felt the stare and turned his head to find Hector’s eyes boring into his own. He slowly let his hand pull his drink away from his lips and set it down on the table, all without breaking eye contact. Hector wondered when they boy would finally capitulate and look away.
He didn’t. “Mr. Ramirez, I suppose you’re impatient to know what we’ve dragged you up here for.”
Hector’s mustache twitched. The boy had balls. Hector had given this look to every and all male friends of Maggie’s and they tended to fold like napkins; and afterward they never dared to be anything more than strictly platonic friends with Maggie.
Hector finally looked away, lifting his sunrise to his lips and taking a long sip of it. The falls were impressive.
“Yes, what’s the occasion?” Jonah inquired animatedly.
Hector watched Grey glance at his mother, who gave a little nod of approval. Apparently the Champagne would be poured after this announcement.
Grey and Maggie exchanged a look and seemed to be communicating wordlessly. Finally Maggie nodded and turned to face her captive audience.
“Papa.” Maggie swallowed and took a steadying breath. Hector waited. He was not a man known for his patience, but he waited. “We got married today.” She tried to smile but it was apprehensive.
The table seemed to be holding a collective breath. Hector pressed his lips together. He honestly couldn’t identify precisely what emotion he was experiencing. He was unable to speak.
After a very tense few moments Jonah stood and moved around the table. “Congratulations!” He pulled Maggie to her feet and kissed both her cheeks. “How wonderful!” He said. She blushed and thanked him and looked back at her own father. He was stony. Jonah continued to cover the tension by shaking Grey’s hand and clapping him on the back. “I thought I spied a wedding ring on that finger,” he said with a chuckle.
Looking now Hector saw a plain band encircling his daughter’s left ring finger, and a larger, similar band on the Delaney boy.
“Jonah, let’s have a toast.” Velvet urged quietly, and she rubbed her son’s shoulder affectionately as he settled back into his seat.
“Of course!” Jonah moved to the bucket. He started babbling cheerily about how he always bungled the cork on champagne and did Velvet remember last New Year’s? Hector knew they were trying to avoid watching, waiting for his reaction. He knew the Delaney boy had hardly taken his eyes off him and could feel Maggie watching too.
“Papa?” She asked quietly. He wasn’t able to look at her face. He focused his gaze on the boy instead, and to the boy’s credit he did not shrink, but sat rather soberly. Hector almost wanted him to make a smart-ass comment, or betray some hint of something in his eyes. He was angry and would like an excuse to throttle the boy.
“Where?” Was the first word Hector spoke. Jonah stopped prattling and Velvet’s smile slipped a little. Everyone stopped.
“City Hall.” Maggie replied, knowing what he was thinking.
“Then you are not married.”
Still nothing. The young man betrayed no flicker of emotion. Just stared intently at Hector. He was a smart young man. Hector could tell that—he had intelligent eyes and gave the impression that wheels and gears were turning rapidly inside his head, but outwardly he was calm, collected and unperturbed.
“Papa, please—“ Hector knew his daughter was afraid he’d make a scene. Mother Mary help him, he wanted to make a scene. His gut was beginning to boil.
“You are not married in the eyes of God.” Hector announced a little louder than he’d meant to. He knew it wasn’t fashionable, knew it would embarrass his daughter but he felt no shame, only righteous indignation.
The young man blinked several times slowly. “We are married in the eyes of the state.” He said without recrimination.
“Papa, we have the documents—“
“Magalita, why would you do this thing?” He turned at last to his eldest girl and thought his heart would break.
Maggie shot a glance around the table. She was very aware of the three Delaneys and how awkward things had become. Hector cared not at all. He thought he knew why she’d done it. He just couldn’t fathom why the boy had agreed to it.
Hector had married Maggie’s mother when she was starting to show; he was no fool. These two kids looked to be near strangers and in his experience there were only a precious few reasons two strangers ended up before a justice of the peace. But he and Rose had been in love. He’d always intended to marry her, from the moment he’d laid eyes on her. Her condition had only served to speed fate along.
These two were different. Hector felt a clenching in his chest. She was so young. So beautiful. She could have had anybody but now she was stuck with this young man. This no good bastard. Hector had heard enough stories to distrust the boy. He’d seen him at his restaurant with a different pretty face each time. Not that he begrudged men sowing their oats, just not with his little girl.
Out of the corner of his eye Hector saw Mrs. Delaney put a hand on her husband’s sleeve.
“If you prefer sir,” Grey spoke after Maggie opened and closed her mouth several times with no result. “We can be married by a priest as well.” Maggie’s hand went back to her silver medal.
Hector sat back in his chair. What did it matter to this young horse’s ass whether or not he spoke false vows in front of a man of the cloth? It was a mockery.
“Do you love this boy Magalita?” His voice broke slightly. He’d wanted to sound stern, he hadn’t quite managed it.
She couldn’t meet his eyes. “Yes.” It was little more than a whisper. She had never been terribly good at lying. Hector nodded slowly, lips pursed, fists on the table. He recognized that she was terrified. Backed into this corner by her own stupidity, her own foolishness, her naïveté.
But, Hector reasoned with himself, she wasn’t entirely to blame. She’d been preyed upon. He dragged his eyes from his daughter’s face to the boy’s. The young man was slowly swirling the celery stick in his Bloody Mary, his eyebrows drawn together, focused on a spot on the table in front of him. Hector wondered if the boy was trying to decide how to answer if Hector posed the same question to him. From what he could sense of this boy he seemed to be one who would resent having to make-believe when backed into a corner.
And if he wouldn’t pretend and Hector asked him outright it would humiliate his daughter in front of her new in-laws. He sucked his teeth. “And you young man?”
Maggie stiffened and Grey’s eyebrows raised.
“Can you provide for my daughter?” Hector was sure the entire table let out a collective breath.
The boy had the good sense not to laugh at the absurdity of the question. Something in his eyes told Hector that he’d appreciated the pass he’d been given on the ‘do you love my daughter’ inquest.
“Absolutely sir.” The young man responded without hesitation.
There was a long silence then. Maggie played with her necklace, the boy stirred the celery, Mr. Delaney removed his glasses and cleaned them carefully, Mrs. Delaney traced the edge of her cloth napkin with an index finger and Hector stared through the enormous windows at the majestic falls.
The subtle chords of a sweet and familiar tune underscored the quiet of the table. Hector had a great deal left to say but this was not the time or place. He had no desire to embarrass his daughter or these lovely people.
“What’s done is done.” Hector said at last, weary but resigned.
“Shall we have a toast?” Velvet asked sweetly, and signaled Jonah to resume his work with the corkscrew.
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