Evenings at the Argentine Club by Julia Amante Page A

away, at a round table under a blue umbrella. She was grateful for an excuse to get
     away from her father. Did he plan to ignore her the rest of his life? He was impossible.
    Eric noticed her before she got to the table and stood. He kissed her on the cheek, as was the Argentine custom. Then he resumed
     his place at the table. “I didn’t get you a coffee yet because I didn’t want it to get cold. But I bought plenty of doughnuts.”
    “That’s fine. I brought my address book. We can divide up the names and start calling.”
    “That’s what I like, a girl with a plan.”
    She realized she hadn’t said hello properly or made any kind of chitchat at all. “I’m sorry. I’m… I decided to confront my
     father last night about taking more control over the restaurant, because everything you said had been bothering me. And we
     had a big fight. I barely slept, so I’m tired.
    “I’m sorry,” he said. “We could have done this another time.”
    “No,” she shrugged. “Doesn’t matter.”
    “I hate to ask, but what did I say to cause a fight?”
    “Maybe it was more how I felt about doing exactly the same thing I’ve been doing since high school. Seeing you again made
     me remember that I once wanted my own life.”
    “Sorry,” Eric said again. He reached across the table and placed a hand over hers. “Victoria, there’s nothing wrong with staying
     close to your family and doing what they expect you to do. I didn’t mean to criticize.… Part of me wishes
I
could have done that. You make me feel guilty as hell for my choices.”
    She smiled. “I’m so glad we bring out the best in each other.”
    “So what happened with your dad exactly?”
    She told him the whole story. “I can’t go back to that restaurant,” she said. On a beautiful August morning like this, they
     should have been discussing the get-together with friends, enjoying their coffees and the heavenly smells coming out of the
     glass door every time a customer went in and out. Instead, she was unloading her irritations with her father on poor Eric.
    He sipped his coffee, not looking at all bothered by her rantings. “Then don’t,” he said.
    “What am I going to do? Even being at home is impossible.”
    He bit into his fourth or fifth doughnut and watched her as he chewed. He swallowed, and said, “I have a suggestion.”
    Victoria stared at the doughnuts, wanting one. “What?” she asked.
    He pushed the bag of doughnuts across the table in front of her. “Help me with my flip.”
    “Help you with your flip? What does that mean?” She pushed the bag back.
    “I’ve bought a house I’m going to fix up and sell while I’m in town. I’m usually my own project manager, but I hire subs to
     do a lot of the work. I need an interior designer. And I’ll need help with staging when I’m ready to sell. The crew I usually
     use is in Austin. I’m putting together a crew here in LA. You can be my designer.”
    “You’re offering me a job?”
    “Not exactly. I’m suggesting you make me one of your new clients. Start your own interior design business.”
    “I can’t start my own business.”
    “Mmm,” he said, as he took another swig of coffee. “So your dad is right. You’re too stupid to run a business. Then go back
     and be his errand girl for the next fifty years.”
    “Shut up,” she said.
    He grinned. “Want one of these?”
    “Of course I do, but I’m on a diet. I need to lose weight.”
    “Help me with my flip and I’ll keep you so busy you’ll lose tons of weight. What do you say? And if you want, you can move
     into the house with me until we’re ready to sell.”
    Now she laughed.
    “What’s so funny?”
    “We haven’t even been out on a proper date together and you want me to move in with you.”
    “I didn’t mean it like that.” He kept his smile. “But what do
you
mean? Do you want to go out on a date? Should I have asked you out? I didn’t think you wanted me to.”
    “I don’t. I mean,