late forties pushed her way through the throng, shushing everyone around her as she went. She met Amy with an outstretched hand which quickly turned into a hug. “You’re here at last. I’m Isabella, Diego’s mom.”
“Mrs. Torres. I’m so happy to meet you.”
“Ah, call me Isabella. We’re almost family now, right?”
Guilt surged in Amy. “Right.”
“Let me see.” Isabella lifted Amy’s hand so the big diamond engagement ring shone in the afternoon sun. “Very nice, Diego, although I’m not sure I’ve forgiven you for keeping this secret from me.”
Up close, the woman was more than handsome. She had high cheekbones and full lips. Diego had inherited her beauty.
“Amy, excuse this loco mob behind me,” she said, and shooed everyone back to let them pass. “This is our family.”
The noise started up again, as one older man, Diego’s grandfather, pulled Amy into a big bear hug.
“Preciosa!” he said, over and over again as he passed her on to a plump woman by his side. His wife, Amy gathered.
The woman gripped Amy’s chin with a thumb and forefinger and turned her face first one way and then the other.
“Que linda!” She nodded to her husband, her eyes flashing with merriment.
Amy was handed over to one relative after another until Diego pulled her to him protectively. “See I told you. You’re already one of the family.”
Amy wished she could copy Diego’s nonchalance. Surely he must be feeling some conflict in this situation?
With an arm slung casually over her shoulder he led her into the great room. The furniture was modern and elegant, except for one overly ornate wooden chair. It was antique, obviously from Mexico, and held a place of honor at the far end of the room. On it perched one of the smallest women Amy had ever seen. Her snow-white hair was pulled back into a tight bun and a colorful traditional shawl covered her shoulders. She regarded Amy with a steady gaze which seemed to cut right into her.
Amy’s smile died on her lips as soon as she saw her. This must be Abuelita. Amy resisted the urge to curtesy. Instead she stood quietly just inside the door.
The woman raised a heavily wrinkled hand and motioned her to come nearer. Amy looked to Diego who nodded an okay and gave her the tiniest of shoves forward.
Amy swallowed. She wasn’t at all sure it was okay. The whole family had plunged into deathly silence, never a good sign. Abuelita raised a bony finger and placed it on Amy’s shoulder.
“She wants you to turn around,” Diego said; an unexpected tremor entered his voice which in turn sent nervous flutterings in Amy’s chest. She spun a half-turn.
“And again.” Diego added. Amy spun a second time until she was facing Abuelita once more. The woman’s gaze dropped to her hips and lingered just long enough to make Amy truly uncomfortable.
“Le dara mucho hijos.”
The family erupted into cheers of approval.
“What’d she say?” Amy leaned into Diego when the crowd thinned.
A blush crept onto his cheeks. “She said we’ll make good babies.”
Amy’s stomach dropped. Now she was lying to an old woman whose only crime was wanting to see her great-grandson happy.
“Oh my God. Diego! You’re on TV!” A teenage girl ran into the room. Diego’s family moved en mass to the media room. Amy flinched as soon as she stepped through the door. An image of her face, as big as a billboard flashed on a huge screen at the far end. The laughter of the kids playing soccer with her and Diego at the park spilled out in to the family theater.
“She’s got game,” Marcus, Diego’s old college coach and family friend announced and winked at her.
The TV piece was short but very effective. Even Amy liked them better as a couple after the show cut to commercial. Somewhere in the distance a door opened, and the delicious smell of meat roasting wafted in.
“A comer! Time to eat!” A male voice called out.
People began to move toward the backyard, sweeping Amy
“Mrs. Torres. I’m so happy to meet you.”
“Ah, call me Isabella. We’re almost family now, right?”
Guilt surged in Amy. “Right.”
“Let me see.” Isabella lifted Amy’s hand so the big diamond engagement ring shone in the afternoon sun. “Very nice, Diego, although I’m not sure I’ve forgiven you for keeping this secret from me.”
Up close, the woman was more than handsome. She had high cheekbones and full lips. Diego had inherited her beauty.
“Amy, excuse this loco mob behind me,” she said, and shooed everyone back to let them pass. “This is our family.”
The noise started up again, as one older man, Diego’s grandfather, pulled Amy into a big bear hug.
“Preciosa!” he said, over and over again as he passed her on to a plump woman by his side. His wife, Amy gathered.
The woman gripped Amy’s chin with a thumb and forefinger and turned her face first one way and then the other.
“Que linda!” She nodded to her husband, her eyes flashing with merriment.
Amy was handed over to one relative after another until Diego pulled her to him protectively. “See I told you. You’re already one of the family.”
Amy wished she could copy Diego’s nonchalance. Surely he must be feeling some conflict in this situation?
With an arm slung casually over her shoulder he led her into the great room. The furniture was modern and elegant, except for one overly ornate wooden chair. It was antique, obviously from Mexico, and held a place of honor at the far end of the room. On it perched one of the smallest women Amy had ever seen. Her snow-white hair was pulled back into a tight bun and a colorful traditional shawl covered her shoulders. She regarded Amy with a steady gaze which seemed to cut right into her.
Amy’s smile died on her lips as soon as she saw her. This must be Abuelita. Amy resisted the urge to curtesy. Instead she stood quietly just inside the door.
The woman raised a heavily wrinkled hand and motioned her to come nearer. Amy looked to Diego who nodded an okay and gave her the tiniest of shoves forward.
Amy swallowed. She wasn’t at all sure it was okay. The whole family had plunged into deathly silence, never a good sign. Abuelita raised a bony finger and placed it on Amy’s shoulder.
“She wants you to turn around,” Diego said; an unexpected tremor entered his voice which in turn sent nervous flutterings in Amy’s chest. She spun a half-turn.
“And again.” Diego added. Amy spun a second time until she was facing Abuelita once more. The woman’s gaze dropped to her hips and lingered just long enough to make Amy truly uncomfortable.
“Le dara mucho hijos.”
The family erupted into cheers of approval.
“What’d she say?” Amy leaned into Diego when the crowd thinned.
A blush crept onto his cheeks. “She said we’ll make good babies.”
Amy’s stomach dropped. Now she was lying to an old woman whose only crime was wanting to see her great-grandson happy.
“Oh my God. Diego! You’re on TV!” A teenage girl ran into the room. Diego’s family moved en mass to the media room. Amy flinched as soon as she stepped through the door. An image of her face, as big as a billboard flashed on a huge screen at the far end. The laughter of the kids playing soccer with her and Diego at the park spilled out in to the family theater.
“She’s got game,” Marcus, Diego’s old college coach and family friend announced and winked at her.
The TV piece was short but very effective. Even Amy liked them better as a couple after the show cut to commercial. Somewhere in the distance a door opened, and the delicious smell of meat roasting wafted in.
“A comer! Time to eat!” A male voice called out.
People began to move toward the backyard, sweeping Amy
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