and cargo ships making their way to port, have a front-row seat to Fourth of July celebrations and admire the storms as they blew through. When the weather was clear—not something that happened all that often in Seattle—he could see the Olympic Mountains. The gorgeous views and accompanying sunsets were very helpful when it came to the ladies—not that he needed props, but a man should have plenty of options in his arsenal.
After showering and dressing in jeans and a Yale Law School sweatshirt, he went down to his two parking spaces in the underground garage. A sleek, midnight blue Mercedes SL convertible sat next to a massive black Cadillac Escalade.
“Not today,” he said, patting the Mercedes. “I have the munchkins.” Not only would their mother not approve of them riding in a convertible, there wasn’t any back seat.
Santiago made his way to his favorite bakery. Unlike the gym, the bakery was jammed with people out on a Saturday morning. He took a small paper number from the machine up front, then waited his turn. When seventy-eight was called, he walked up and grinned at the short, plump woman wearing a hairnet.
“Good morning, Brandi. Is your mother here? You know how I enjoy saying hello to her.”
The fiftysomething woman behind the counter rolled her eyes. “You know it’s me, Santiago. No one is fooled by this game you play.”
He clutched his chest and feigned surprise. “Valia? Is that really you? You’re so beautiful this morning, even more so than usual and I didn’t think that was possible.” He held open his arms. “Come on. You need a hug and so do I.”
She groaned, as if the imposition was too much, but made her way around the counter. Santiago picked her up and spun her around until she shrieked.
“Put me down, you fool! You’ll break your back.”
He set her back on her feet and kissed her cheek. “It would be worth it,” he whispered.
She laughed and slapped his arm. “You’re incorrigible.”
“That’s why I’m your favorite.”
“You’re not my favorite.”
“Liar.”
She chuckled. “How’s your mama?”
“Well. I’m going to see her right now, then take the rug rats to the zoo.” He’d promised them a trip on the first sunny Saturday. Both of them had texted him yesterday with links to the weather report.
“They’re good children.” She eyed him. “You should be married.”
“Maybe.”
“You need a wife.”
“No one needs a wife.”
“You do. You’re getting old.”
“Hey, I’m thirty-four.”
“Practically an old man. Get married soon or no one will want you.”
He held his hands palm up and winked. “Really? Because hey, it’s me.”
Her lips twitched. “You’re not all that.”
“Now who’s lying?”
She handed over a box with his name scrawled on the top. He’d placed his pastry order online after hearing from his niece and nephew.
“My cousin has a daughter,” she began.
He passed her twenty dollars. “Uh-huh. So you’ve mentioned before. I love you, Valia, but no. I’ll find my own girl.”
“You keep saying that, but you never do. What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing,” he called as he headed for the door. “I’ll know when I know. Of that I’m sure.”
He crossed the street and got two grande lattes from Starbucks before driving just north of the city to a quiet neighborhood of older homes. Most were either remodeled or in the process of being upgraded, but there were still a few with the original windows and tiny, one-car garages.
He wove through narrow streets until he reached his destination and pulled into the long driveway.
The lot was oversize and had two houses on it. The front one was large—about three thousand square feet, including the basement, with a nice backyard and plenty of light. Behind it was a smaller house—with just a single bedroom—but it was comfortable, private and quiet.
Santiago would never admit it to anyone but every time he came to visit, he felt a flush of pride. He’d been able to do this for his family. Him—some farm worker’s kid from the Yakima Valley. The property was paid for and in a family trust. His brother Paulo and his family lived in the front house and Santiago’s mother lived in the smaller one.
He parked by the latter and walked up the front steps. His mother answered before he could knock.
“All your cars are loud,” she said with a laugh. “You were never one for subtle, were you?”
“Never.”
He gave her a hug and kiss before following her into the bright kitchen decorated in various shades of yellow. As usual, it was scary clean, with nothing out of place. His condo was clean, too, but only because he was rarely there and he had a cleaning service. He handed his mom one of the lattes before opening the pastry box. He got in a single bite before it began.
“How’s work?”
“Good. Busy.”
“Are you eating right? Do you get enough water? You’ve never liked to drink water, but it’s good for your kidneys and keeps you regular.”
“Mom,” he began, not knowing why he bothered. What was it about women over fifty? They just said what they wanted. He tried to summon a little indignation, but he couldn’t. Not about 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
