Boss Meets Her Match. Janet Lee Nye
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steadying sips. Let out a long breath and looked back up at Eduardo. “So, you think we should just go ahead and get married? Twenty-four-hour wait on the marriage license. We could go get it Monday and be married by Tuesday. Maybe I could be pregnant by this time next week. Unless my withering eggs are too old and feeble to crawl out of my ovaries.”
His face went dark. “No wonder you have to have your family out hunting men for you. You’re mean.”
“And you’re insulting.”
“Actually, I’m leaving.”
Lena shrugged and took another sip of wine. “Bye.”
The waiter came over as Eduardo left. “Everything all right here, ma’am?”
She gave him her brightest smile and was rewarded by the pure male appreciation in his eyes. “Everything is perfect. I’m ready to order. I’ll have a cup of She Crab soup to begin. The petit filet mignon, medium well, with the parmesan truffle fries, thank you.”
She discreetly kicked her heels off and took her phone out of her purse. She was going to have her favorite meal and finish the book she’d started last weekend. Eduardo could scamper back home and tell his mommy how mean she was.
* * *
“SO, HOW’D THE date go last night?”
Lena groaned and rolled over in bed. “It’s not even nine o’clock yet, Sadie. Ugh.” Sass hopped on the bed and stomped across Lena’s stomach to stand on her chest, singing the song of her people. The song of long suffering, slow starvation and the horror of a half-empty bowl of dry food.
“Are you murdering your cat?” Sadie asked.
“Not yet,” Lena muttered, pushing Sass aside and rolling out of bed. “I haven’t even had coffee yet.”
“So, how was the date?”
“He got up and walked out on me.”
“Ha! Wyatt! You owe me twenty dollars.”
“Are you betting on my dates? You bet against me? Bitch.”
“I know you. You are mean.”
“I’m not mean. I just don’t take bullshit.”
“What’d he do?”
“Literally, Sadie, the second question out of his mouth was how many kids did I want? Then he said I’d better hurry up before I got too old.”
“Tell me you only verbally emasculated him.”
“Yes. He called me a meanie and ran away.”
“Lena. You have to know that you can be a bit...ah...intimidating when you get angry.”
“Weeds out the weak.”
“Well maybe just give them a chance to see the nice you before you unleash your inner Latina guerrera once in a while.”
“Next time. Right now, I want coffee. Goodbye and don’t call me on a weekend before noon again unless it’s an emergency. Bruja.”
Ending the call, she tossed the phone on the counter. “Don’t even try tripping me this morning, feline.”
Ten minutes later, Sass loved her again and she was stretched out on the couch with a large, steaming cup of coffee warming her hands. Maybe Sadie was right. Maybe she was mean. Maybe she could have handled that whole situation more graciously. “You know what, Sass? Maybe he should have not asked that. Maybe he shouldn’t have brought up my age. Maybe I’m not mean but he’s a rude dork. Do they ever think that?”
No, they didn’t. It was always her fault. She eyed the clock. At some point she was going to get a phone call from her mother. The way Estrella and Eduardo’s mother had planned this, there was no doubt a full report would be made. The only question was: before or after mass? Probably after.
By one that afternoon, she started to think that maybe she’d gotten away with it. Maybe Eduardo hadn’t ratted her out to his mother. But that hope was dashed shortly after two. Darth Vader’s “Imperial March” pierced the quiet, sending Sass scurrying for the bedroom.
“Bueno, Mamacita,” Lena answered.
“So. I understand things went poorly?”
Lena rolled her eyes and made a face. “Yeah, that wasn’t a good matchup. Eduardo and I aren’t on the same page. In fact, we weren’t even on the same date.”
“There was no reason for you to be rude.”
“He was rude first.”
“Now you sound like a child.”
“I’m not the one who ran tattling to my mommy.” A flood of rapid, long-suffering Spanish filled her ear. When it died down, she continued. “No more fix-ups. Promise.”
“I promise.”
“Thank you.” A frown creased her forehead. That was way too easy. “Promise, Momma.”
“I promise I won’t try to fix you up again. And I did have another reason to call. Don’t forget that Louisa’s daughter is having that operation tomorrow to fix her leg.”
“Ah, yes. Thanks. I did forget about that. I have a present for her. I’ll bring it to the hospital when I get off work.”
She ended the call feeling lucky to have gotten off that easily. She got Ava’s present and set it on the entryway table next to her purse so she wouldn’t forget it in the morning. Glancing at the time, she sat back down with a sigh. She and Sadie would usually do something on Sunday afternoons. Now Sadie was busy with Wyatt and Jules. She fired up her laptop. Might as well get some work done.
* * *
A FEW HOURS LATER, both her stomach and Sass were grumbling. She closed down her work files. Grabbing her phone, she scrolled through her delivery restaurant contacts. Mmm. Brown Dog Deli. Setting the phone down, she thought about what Sadie had said about being in a rut. Maybe she should change out of her pajamas, put on real clothes and go outside. Do something that involved people.
“I don’t want to people,” she moaned, flopping back on the couch. She picked up the phone and did a search for “Charleston events.” A moment later, she was sitting straight up. “Sass! It’s the Color of Music Festival!” Checking the time, she got to her feet. She could still make it to the Ebony and Ivory Piano Recital.
After calling to make sure there were still tickets available, she showered and changed clothes. The church hosting the recital was only a short walk away. As she reached the street, she called Sadie but the call went to voice mail. “I’m outside and peopling, for your information.”
Smiling as she strolled down the sidewalk, she realized she did feel much better. The sun was shining. The sky was blue. Everyone in her family was safe and happy. There was a line already queued up at the church. As she walked to the end of the line after buying her ticket, she heard someone calling her name.
“Hello, Dr. Rutledge,” she said, shaking hands with him. “Mrs. Rutledge. Nice to see you both.”
“I was going to call you tomorrow, Lena,” Eliot said. “I’m putting together a group to do a little charity work for the St. Toribio Center. We’ll be setting up an activity room for the children to use while their parents are being seen. We could use your Spanish skills.”
St. Toribio, the patron saint of Mexican immigrants, was more than familiar to Lena. She’d given money and attended benefits for the charity that offered not only medical and legal assistance, but English classes and adult continuing education. She’d never been actively involved in a project before.
“Wow. Yes. I’d love to help out. What do you need? A translator?”
“Thank you. Yes. Definitely translation. Also, we might need some printed materials made. Would you be able to help with that?”