his mom. She’d earned whatever attitude she had now through years of pain, sacrifice and hard work.
She sipped her coffee and leaned against the counter. “Are you losing weight?”
“I weigh exactly the same as I did last time you saw me and last year and the year before.”
“Are you getting sleep? You stay out too late with those women. And why don’t I get to meet any of them? You never bring a girl home.”
“You told me not to unless I was serious.”
“That’s because you go through them like you’re in a revolving door. Look at Paulo. He’s your younger brother and he’s been married twelve years.”
Santiago took another bite of his cinnamon roll, thereby avoiding answering the question. He loved his brother, and his sister-in-law was one of his favorite people on the planet, but there was no way he wanted his brother to be his role model. Paulo had gotten his girlfriend pregnant when they’d both been seniors in high school. They’d married quickly, had their kid and another one two years later.
Paulo had gotten a job on the assembly line at Alberto’s Alfresco and never left. Santiago had tried to talk to him about going to college, or learning a skill but Paulo said he preferred to work the line. He’d moved up to supervisor and that was enough for him.
Hanna, Paulo’s wife, had stayed home with the kids until their youngest was five and then had gone to community college. Now she was in her final year of her nursing program and would graduate in a few months.
“We each have our own path, Mom.”
“You don’t have a path,” his mother grumbled.
He winced. “Please don’t say I have to get married. Valia already lectured me when I stopped by the bakery.”
“Good for her. I worry about you.”
He stood and crossed to her, then kissed the top of her head. “Don’t worry, Mom. I’m fine.”
The sound of running feet on the walkway offered salvation. Santiago released his mother just as the front door flew open and his niece and nephew raced toward him.
“The zoo opens at nine thirty,” twelve-year-old Emma said. “I have a list of all the baby animals we have to visit. I’m monitoring their development.”
“Of course you are.”
Noah, her ten-year-old brother, scoffed, “She thinks she’s so smart.”
“I am smart,” Emma told him. “I’m going to be a veterinarian. What are you going to be?”
“I’m going to play football!”
Santiago eyed his skinny frame. From what he could tell, Noah took after his mother in build, but maybe the kid would blossom. Or learn to be a kicker. He grabbed them both and squeezed tight enough to make them squeal.
“We’ll look at the baby animals and the bears and the lions,” he said. “Maybe one of you will misbehave and the lion can have you for dinner.”
“Oh, Santiago.” Emma shook her head. “You always threaten to throw us in but you’d never do that. You love us.”
He walked back to the table and sank into his seat. “How can you know that? You’re growing up so fast. It’s depressing.”
“I’ll be thirteen in ten months.”
He looked at his mom. “I don’t like this. Make it stop.”
“Children grow up, Santiago. Sometimes they grow up and get married and have children of their own.”
He faked a smile and thought about banging his head against the table. What was going on today with the women in his life? With his luck, Emma would want to fix him up with one of her teachers. He was happily single. He dated plenty. Some would say too much. He liked his life. One day he would meet the right one and then everything would change but until then, why mess with perfection?
Noah grabbed a jelly donut then slid onto Santiago’s lap. “Can we go to the Lego store after the zoo?”
“Of course.”
Emma perked up. “And the bookstore?”
“Definitely.”
“You spoil them,” his mother murmured.
He looked at her. “And?”
She smiled. “You’re a very good uncle.”
He winked. “Thanks, Mom.”
* * *
Blowing ten grand on a five-year-old’s birthday party was beyond the definition of insane, Callie Smith thought as she positioned the car-shaped cookie cutter over the sandwich and pressed down as evenly as she could. When she carefully peeled away the excess bread, she was left with a perfect car-shaped PB&J sandwich—sans crust, of course.
The menu for the event was fairly simple, and all based on the Disney movie Cars. Small cups contained carrot, celery and cucumber sticks—aka dipsticks. Two kinds of organic punch along with organic apple juice were at the refueling station. The catering firm’s famous mac and cheese had been remade with pasta in the shape of wheels, and there were car-inspired mini hot dogs ready to go. Callie had already put half a cherry tomato and slice of cucumber to simulate wheels onto one hundred toothpicks, ready to be shoved into place when the mini hot dogs were heated and put in the buns.
The cake was an incredible work of art—a stylized twelve-inch-high modified layer cake shaped to look like a mountain with a road circling up to the top where a small car sat, along with a banner reading Happy Birthday Jonathan.
The previous afternoon Callie had filled the loot bags with Cars-related toys, and had carefully rolled all twenty-five Pit Crew T-shirts with the names facing up. Yes, each boy would get a personalized T-shirt to wear for the party and then take home with him.
Janice, her boss and the owner of the catering company, hurried into the kitchen. “I already have a knot in my stomach. The rest of the staff has a pool going on how long it takes the first kid to throw up, but I’m hoping we can get through this one without any disasters. How are you doing?”
Callie pointed to the tray with the PB&J sandwiches. “All ready. I’ll cover them with plastic wrap to keep them fresh. The hot dog wheels are done. Just have someone stick them on before putting in the hot dogs. Veggies are finished, the cake is in place and I’ve put out the loot bags. Oh, and the T-shirts are by the front door to be handed out as the guests arrive. Just so you know, there are three Brandons.”
Janice groaned. “Of course there are.” She looked around their client’s massive kitchen. “You’ve done it again, Callie. You took this idea and ran with it. I would still be trying to figure out how to pull it all together.”
Callie did her best to offer a sincere smile—one without a hint of bitterness. What was going to happen next wasn’t Janice’s fault. Instead, the blame lay squarely on Callie’s shoulders. She could whine and stomp her feet all she wanted. She could point
