Grill Me, Baby (9 page)

Dios mío
, her big brother could be so relentless sometimes! Paolo had been adamant last night that she call Bobby and ask him to come home so they could work things out. But Paolo didn’t know the half of it. Bobby had no idea she was pregnant, neither did Bobby’s parents or her family, for that matter. Her ears still felt blistered by Paolo’s tirade when she had shown up at his door. He hadn’t been angry with her for being pregnant, he’d been furious that she’d kept it a secret from him and the rest of their family who loved her.

She’d had good reasons—ones that Paolo had scoffed at, making her upset with him and all men in general. Looking back, she should have realized it wouldn’t be smooth sailing when she had eloped with Bobby. But from the moment he’d walked into her family’s bakery in Buenos Aires, she had fallen hard for the cute exchange grad student learning Spanish. That afternoon, Claudia had just put the final touches on her specialty—a three layered vanilla sponge cake with
dulce de leche
filling. When she placed it in the window display, Bobby walked by and stopped to watch her. He came inside, bought the whole cake and ordered a double espresso. He invited her to join him as he devoured a huge slice of it, proclaiming it was the most delicious dessert he had ever eaten and that she was the princess of cakes.

Bobby’s rugged American physique, chestnut hair and crystal blue eyes had attracted her, but it was his appealing personality that had won her over. After three months practically joined at the hip, they had eloped in one reckless moment, to both their families’ vehement disapproval. 

His wealthy parents, commercial real estate developers, had disapproved of him marrying a Latina instead of a socialite and when he refused to annul their marriage, they cut him off financially. Bobby had been so incensed, he had taken Claudia to live in Destin, Florida—much to her chagrin. It was the first job he could find, so he relocated them to the small coastal town. Claudia had liked being near the ocean, but very soon she had become homesick in the predominantly Anglo city. With few friends, she had felt isolated, pining for her close-knit family and Latin customs. 

Before marrying, she and Bobby had made plans to start a yacht chartering business and sail the world, one adventure at a time. He would captain the vessels and take wealthy jet-setters to exotic destinations. That dream had been waylaid when his parents had disowned him and backed off from financing the venture. Before long, they started to run out of money. Bobby, a civil engineer, had been able to get an entry-level job, but Claudia couldn’t find steady employment. Her English was decent, but heavily accented, and many gringos had a hard time understanding her. 

In a desperate attempt to make a lot of money quickly, Bobby had taken a job in the oil sands of Alberta, Canada. When Claudia had balked at his plans, he had admitted he would be entrenched in a very remote area, but had tried to convince her with the excellent salary. 

“We need the money, babe. Six months will go by quickly, you’ll see,” he had told her. She had positively begged him not to go, but his stubborn response had been, “My mind’s made up. I’m doing this for our future.” Well, he had ruined their future by abandoning her—the longer Bobby was gone, the more she resented him, especially since he had left a ticket for her to go to her family in Argentina until he returned. For all he knew, she was living back home. Running to her family and admitting defeat was the last thing she would do. He should have known her well enough not to expect it. 

Claudia swallowed hard, willing herself not to cry. Lately, her emotions were getting the best of her and she found herself tearing up too easily. She wiped away her salty tears but they wouldn’t stop, especially when she reflected on the bleakness of their marriage. She and Bobby hadn’t spoken since he left for Canada after a terrible fight. He had called her several times, but she had refused to answer his calls, instead sending him a text message to stop calling her or her family. Shortly afterward, she began to suffer extreme nausea and found out she was three months pregnant! Many pregnant women got morning sickness, but in Claudia’s case, she had all-day sickness with nausea and vomiting that lasted well into her third trimester. 

It had finally subsided, but she felt emotionally spent and terrified at the thought of being a single mom far from her home with no real friends or family for support other than her big brother. Despite the ticket sitting in her suitcase, she refused to run home. It was too late now and too humiliating to admit she had done a stupid thing by eloping with Bobby and then getting pregnant so soon. Claudia had lived frugally on the money he had left her in the bank account, not wanting to deplete his savings because, as far as she was concerned, they were separated. When her family had heard the Woodbridges had turned against their son for marrying Claudia, they had urged an annulment.
I’ll never leave Bobby,
she had cried, fiercely defending her husband. Ironically,
he
had left her. 

When she spent her twentieth birthday alone last month, it was the final straw. Lonely and homesick, she gave up trying to be heroic and headed for Miami in hopes of staying with Paolo until the baby was born. Her big brother would help her figure out what to do. 

She blew her nose, took a deep breath and tried to think positively as she served up some frittata and poured orange juice into a small glass. She dug into the frittata and counted her lucky stars that Paolo had taken her in. He was so strong and protective, almost like a surrogate dad, given the fourteen-year difference between them. As the youngest of the Santos clan, she held a special place in his heart, and he in hers. Paolo had been the first one to discover she had dyslexia when she was eight. He had arranged for after-school tutoring so she wouldn’t fail the school year. Even when he was overworked or had a hot date to go on, he had carved out time to patiently work with her. He had never made her feel inept or dumb, instead praising how smart she was and what a talented baker she was becoming. He had explained that dyslexia had nothing to do with intelligence, and she adored him for it.

Whoops, there it was again, the annoying Braxton Hicks contraction…a tight sensation, gripping the small of her back and wrapping around to squeeze her belly. 

Hmmm, maybe she should stop eating…

Michaela could not ignore the ringing telephone another minute. She forced one heavy eyelid open even though it felt like a sandbag held it anchored down. When she tried to lift her head from the couch, her temples throbbed in protest. She cast a bleary glance about her disheveled living room and noticed the usually tidy area was strewn with chocolate candy wrappers and an empty wine bottle on her coffee table. Wondering why her answering machine had not kicked in, she pushed herself up, but had to hold on to the back of the couch as she trudged toward the phone in her kitchen. Every step made her head pound.

“Hullo,” she mumbled, balancing the receiver on her ear as she tried to tamp down the nausea.

“Michaela! Is that you?” Amy Merkle, the spa director asked.

“Yeah, what’s left of me,” Michaela mumbled, trying to organize the jumbled thoughts in her mushy brain. 

“What do you mean, ‘what’s left of you’?” Amy asked in an alarmed voice. “Are you okay? It’s not like you to be absent from work and not call in.”

“I hate to admit it, but I just woke up.”

“Really? Now I
am
worried. You haven’t missed a day since you started and you’ve never been late, either. You’re one of the most dependable people I know.”

“You wouldn’t think so if you saw the sorry state I’m in and what my apartment looks like this morning.” Michaela shut her eyes and tried to remember what happened last night to make her feel like a category five hurricane was roiling around in her body, wreaking havoc on her stomach and inside her head. But the details escaped her. “I don’t feel very well. My head is pounding and my stomach’s upset.” 

“What’s wrong, honey? Some sort of stomach virus?” Being the earth mother type, Amy loved nurturing the people she cared for with homeopathic remedies.

“Sorry I didn’t call you earlier. Truth is, I have a whopping hangover,” Michaela whispered, casting a disparaging glance at the empty wine bottle. So much for restraint.

“Would you please repeat that?” Amy choked out between giggles.

“I seem to have polished off a whole bottle of wine by myself last night.” Michaela stared at her senior yearbook on the floor. “But I’m having a hard time remembering details.”

“
You
drank a whole bottle of wine and you can’t remember details?” 

“You know I’m a lightweight. And now I’m suffering the consequences,” Michaela groaned.

Amy chuckled and wheezed. Usually her unabashed way of laughing amused Michaela, but today it just made her head hurt.

“Please, I feel awful,” Michaela said.

“Sorry.” Amy’s humor subsided. “Hang in there, honey. I’ll come over with an herbal tea guaranteed to make you feel like new.”

In the dreadful state she was in, Michaela did not want to imagine what the natural remedy guru would concoct. She shuddered, remembering how Amy had once grown a huge Colombian mushroom and let it ferment in tea. It had looked scary, like something out of and Michaela was certain it tasted just as vile
Little Shop of Horrors
,
.
Amy had drunk the elixir every night, swearing by its rejuvenating qualities until the mushroom grew too big for the glass jar and she had to throw it out. Luckily, she moved on to a different homeopathic recipe for energizing herself. Nevertheless, Michaela did not want to be her guinea pig.

“Thanks for the offer, but I have to hurry up and get to work. It’s ten already.” 

“I know, but don’t worry. Elliot has already taken charge of everything.”

“I’m sure he has.” Michaela breathed a small sigh of relief. Elliot Ramsey was her efficient sous chef. “Oh my gosh, I just remembered the school kids are coming in for their lesson today!”

“Don’t worry, there’s plenty of time before they get here. Elliot is making sure we have all the ingredients for their meal.”

“It’s Thai food today, right?” Every month, “Munchin’ Munchkins”, a class of energetic fifth graders from an inner city school came for a tour-around-the-world cooking lesson. In a popular series that included coaching in good nutrition, they had fun learning to cook a complete meal that they took home to share with their families. For the past year, this had been Michaela’s pet project.

“Yep. Tasty Thai month,” Amy confirmed. 

“I’d better talk to Elliot,” Michaela fretted. “Would you find him for me?”

“He’s standing next to me waiting for a compliment on his new lavender suede shoes and matching tunic and pants.” Amy started to laugh. “Hold on, Elliot’s taking the phone away. Unfortunately, he heard me mention your hangover. Sorry.”

“Great,” Michaela muttered. Knowing Elliot, she would never hear the end of it.

“Feeling woozy, my culinary goddess?” Elliot quipped. “If I’d known you’d be hung-over this morning, I would have gotten here at least an hour earlier. I mean, hello? Did you forget our little munchkins will be arriving at three, hungry and ready to cook?” 

“Yes, I’m rushing. I’ll be there as soon as…” 

Before Michaela could finish, Elliott gave a high-pitched squeal and suddenly shrieked, “Kitty, is the orange vinaigrette ready yet? No? Why not, you lazy debutante?”

“Elliot, don’t talk to her that way,” Michaela said, clutching her head while he continued to shout.

“Waldo, get your worthless ass over here and stir this sauce! Quit flexing your muscles, Dan, I’ve already noticed you! And please control those ham fists. You’re handling delicate button mushrooms, not portobellos! I can’t do everything myself and be the master chef too!” he ranted. “Goddess, why did you have to get drunk last night? You’re the most dependable girl I know.”

There was that word again—dependable. Normally, Michaela would have prided herself in being dependable, but this morning the description depressed her. Being dependable equated being predictable. Well, predictable was better than drunk!

“I’m warning you, Elliott. If you don’t keep this strictly between us…” 

“Stop it, diva! My lips are sealed tighter than Dan’s ass.” 

Shocked by his crudeness, Michaela drew in a sharp breath. “My God, Elliot, shut up! Did Dan hear you say that?” When she heard him chuckle wickedly, she warned, “Better be careful or he might shut you up personally.” Dan was at least a foot taller and weighed fifty pounds more than Elliot—in solid muscle.

“Ooh, don’t get me excited, naughty girl. Now hurry up and get here. I’m going crazy.” 

Michaela started to roll her eyes, but stopped when the action made her eyeballs ache. “Better lighten up on the staff or they’ll walk out on you, or worse yet, sue you for harassment.”

“Hah! I doubt that. They need discipline. You’re too considerate with the lot of them.”

She grimaced. “I’ll be there as soon as I can. No daily special today. Please make sure you’re ready to serve lunch by eleven thirty.”

“You don’t have to remind me. You know how capable I am,” he sniffed, sounding affronted. 

“Mmm hmm,” she murmured in a placating tone. “Please put Amy back on.”

“Fine,” he huffed.

“I’m going to jump in the shower, then head on over,” Michaela said when Amy took the phone from Elliot. “I’ll fill you in on things when I get there. Bye.” 

Michaela hung up and closed her eyes as she braced herself against the counter. After taking several deep breaths, she got a bottle of aspirin from the pantry and downed two with a full glass of water. She looked around her kitchen and cringed, as little by little, she remembered the events leading to last night’s debacle. Once everything came back to her in vibrant detail, she thanked God that she had finished off the wine after Paolo left or there was no telling what she might have done.

Never in her thirty years had anyone gotten to her so swiftly and made her lose her composure so completely. When Paolo had first strolled into her apartment, all sexy charm and macho testosterone, she’d felt the potent force of his charismatic presence. But by the end of the evening, he’d witnessed her mortification over being a chubby, awkward kid and she felt vulnerable. He’d been kind and understanding, but she couldn’t allow him to get close to her heart or she’d be lost. She had already been a fool for love once in her life; she couldn’t, wouldn’t let it happen again.