Evenings at the Argentine Club by Julia Amante Page A

what he was doing when I questioned him. I’m sort of worried about this huge venture, to
     tell you the truth.”
    “Why?”
    “Well.” She wondered how much to say. But Eric was a businessman so maybe he could put her worries to rest. “He’s emptied
     his entire savings, borrowed money against his restaurant, our house… It’s a little… scary.”
    “It’s risky.” He took a seat beside her, using the towel to wipe perspiration from his face. “Something I would expect from
     my dad, but not yours.”
    Wonderful. Just what she wanted to hear. “I want to believe he knows what he’s doing.” Then, feeling unfaithful, she amended.
     “I’m sure he does.”
    Eric didn’t comment.
    “He’s always wanted to make millions and go back to Argentina a success.” Victoria smiled at how many times she’d heard her
     father’s dream. And Jaqueline always remind him that they had to be practical. “He’s always talked about it, but I never expected
     him to actually do it, I guess.”
    “Victoria, every Argentine guy I’ve ever known has wild ideas of making millions and returning to Argentina a big shot. My
     dad was the same.”
    “Yeah. I guess I just thought he’d gotten over all that.”
    “Where does all this leave you?”
    “Putting in more time at the restaurant, I suppose.”
    “Don’t trust that your parents are always going to take care of you, Victoria. Especially if your father has gotten a wild
     hair up his ass about striking it rich.”
    “I don’t.” And she resented that he assumed she was nothing but a mooch living off her parents. They
wanted
her to live at home. Her father expected her to help out with the family business. It wasn’t like she had a choice.
    “What if the restaurant you think you’re going to run ends up having to close down? Then what will you do?”
    Be free
, she thought, then chased the thought away. “My father is not going to fail.”
    Eric leaned back and shook his head. “That’s what he tells me.”
    Victoria stared out at the trees swaying in the warm afternoon breeze. She could hear traffic driving down neighboring streets,
     but this block was quiet. A perfect summer weekend, but her life didn’t feel so perfect. She’d expected Eric to tell her that
     she was being silly for worrying, that her father was a genius, that his plan was brilliant, and instead he was giving her
     more to worry about. And now she was defending her father, when a moment ago she was telling Eric she had doubts.
He must think I’m a psycho
, she thought. She glanced back at him; he was watching her with a gentle look of concern.
    But he quickly hid it as he stretched his arms up in the air and stood. “I better get this mess cleaned up.” He wrapped the
     cord around the pressure washer, clamped it under his arm, and picked up the can of paint. “Be right back.” He disappeared
     into the garage.
    Victoria stood, then bent and picked up the brush he’d been using. She walked around the porch to the garage on the side of
     the house. She peeked inside. “Here’s your brush.”
    He smiled and took it. “Thanks.” He pointed to the crooked shelves that held household cleaners, rolls of paper towels, and
     bags of rags. “I organized all this for my parents when I was a kid. I remember putting those up. My mom used to let me keep
     my model-building tools up there. And the various bugs and lizards I’d caught in jars.” He chuckled. “I thought she was so
     cool to let me take charge of the garage. She probably did it so I wouldn’t bring all my junk into the house. Boys collect
     a lot of junk.”
    Victoria leaned on a cool, white washing machine and smiled as she listened to him reminisce. Something warm touched her heart,
     and she could almost picture him the way he used to look. She thought of all the times she’d heard people say how cold and
     uncaring Eric had been to leave his family behind so easily. But something told her that maybe it hadn’t