The Crush (Oregon Wine Country #1)(67)

“You looked so happy the last time I saw you.”

He threw out his arms and pasted on a smile. “I don’t look happy now?”

“I don’t know. I suppose you do. There was a spark you had, the last time you were here. . . .”

“Well, I should look happy. Because I just got word from my headhunter. She thinks she found me a new job. You’ll never guess where.”

“Hard to tell. Haven’t you been just about everywhere under the sun by now?”

“Australia!”

“Australia. You always talked about going there.”

“That’s right. I got an interview this week for a project in Sydney.”

“How are they going to interview you, all the way down there?”

“It’s all done on a computer nowadays, Mom.”

“Now, when would that start?”

“Soon as the Belize job’s over, in February.”

She shook her head on her pillow. “All this change . . . I can’t keep up. You know your father’s selling the restaurant.”

The news was a bolt of lightning through his chest. “No. I didn’t.”

“Our customer base is fading. Everyone’s going to those new places. Sushi and vegetarian and gluten free and who knows what else. Talk about change. . . .”

Manolo laid his hand on her shoulder. “I know, Mom. I know.”

Later, he ran into Izzy in the hall.

With no preamble, he asked, “What’s going on?”

“Mom told you? Business is dropping off more and more. There was a time when the name Santos was worth something. But now the real estate’s worth more than the restaurant. The liquor license alone will fetch a pretty penny. Wait till you hear this: Dad’s been looking at condos in—wait for it—Miami Beach.”

“Florida?”

“I know, right?”

“Well, it’ll be good for Mom.”

“That’s for sure. That woman deserves to bake on a beach for a change, instead of in the kitchen.”

Manolo frowned. “But what about you and the girls? What will you do?”

“Paloma needs a break. She’s ready to stay home with the kids—Anthony’s practice is doing well enough. Maria’s thinking about going back to school, now that her rug rats are old enough.”

“What about you?”

Izzy had never married. All she lived for was the restaurant.

“Who knows?” She shrugged.

To Manolo’s horror, tears filled her eyes. He couldn’t handle women crying. Especially women he loved.

He gave her a brotherly squeeze and peered over her shoulder, down the hall of the hospital, without seeing it. “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “Something will come up.”

Everything’s disintegrating, he thought. Soon there won’t be anything left to come home to but my storage units. And, like Junie had said, a storage shed was hardly a home.





Chapter Forty-two


In early December, Manolo got a phone call from Sam.

“I’ve been trying to call you, man. Finally got through!”

“Reception’s touch-and-go down here.”

“How’s Belize?”

“Awesome. Hot sun, hot babes . . . what’s up with you?”

“Forget it. Can’t compete with that.”

“Try me.”

“I’m planning to do some skiing over Christmas break. Wondered if you want to come up and hit the slopes, assuming you have a Christmas break.”

With his family split into pieces and his staff jetting off to their various hometowns, Manolo had been resigned to spending Christmas alone.

“Sounds great.”

“You sure the local hotties can survive without you for a few days?”

Even under threat of waterboarding, he’d never confess to Sam that the last woman he’d laid a hand on was Junie Hart.

“It’s a chance I’ll have to take.”

*

A couple of weeks later, Sam picked Manolo up at the PDX airport.

They drove south out of Portland, toward the Willamette. The cityscape disappeared behind them, replaced by suburbia’s mishmash of houses and small businesses. Gradually, fields outnumbered developments. At a distance, snow blanketed the high ground.

“How’d your interview go?”

“Nailed it.”

“Australia?”

“February fifteenth.”

Sam whistled through his teeth. “That’s a long way away. Think you’ll ever get tired of running and settle down some day?”

“Nope.”

Neither man spoke for a mile or so.

Then Sam said, “We’ve driven halfway to Clarkston. So far, you’ve asked me how the consortium’s doing, about the relative success of this fall’s crush, and what’s the latest between me and Red.”

“Your point?”

“When are you going to quit skating around the subject and ask me the thing you’re dying to know about the most?”

Manolo gazed out the window, feigning ignorance. “I don’t have a clue what you’re getting at.”

Sam thumped his chest as he drove. “Are you forgetting who this is you’re talking to?”