"You know Versailles?" Ray asked, mentioning the famous Cuban restaurant. "They've been doing the same menu for decades."
"Exactly," Carlos said, shooting a pointed look at his wife.
"But look at places like Coyo Taco," I countered, thinking of the modern Mexican spot that had exploded in popularity. "They took traditional concepts and made them fresh. Sometimes evolution keeps you relevant."
Jenny nodded enthusiastically. "See? Even the computer guy gets it."
I winced slightly at being called "the computer guy," but pressed on. "The key is probably finding the balance, right? Keeping your core offerings but maybe testing new items as specials?"
"That's what I keep saying," Jenny said. "But Mr. Conservative here won't even let me try a mango habanero empanada."
"Because the profit margins are already tight," Carlos said, his voice rising slightly. "Every ingredient that doesn't sell is money down the drain."
An uncomfortable silence fell over our group. Ray cleared his throat.
"You know, Jeffrey and I have had similar disagreements about his work," Ray said carefully. "He wants to take on more challenging projects, I worry about the financial risk if they don't work out."
"How do you handle it?" Jenny asked, seeming genuinely interested.
Ray and I looked at each other. How did we handle it? For years, we hadn't—we'd just retreated to our separate corners until one of us gave in or the issue became irrelevant.
"We're still learning," I admitted. "But lately we've been trying to actually listen to each other's concerns instead of just defending our own positions."
"Easier said than done," Carlos muttered.
"Definitely," Ray agreed. "But the race is already showing us that our different approaches can actually work together if we let them."
Jenny studied us with new interest. "You two seem to have your communication figured out."
Ray and I exchanged another look—this one tinged with irony. If only they knew how close we'd come to not communicating at all.
"Trust me," I said, "we're still working on it. Every day."
Behind us, we heard the familiar sound of another team arriving, breaking up our conversation. As Jenny and Carlos moved away to watch the next arrival, I caught Carlos putting his hand on the small of Jenny's back—a tiny gesture, but one that suggested their partnership, despite its tensions, still had foundation.
"Think they'll make it?" Ray asked quietly.
"In the race or in general?" I replied, watching them stand slightly apart as they waited.
"Both."
I thought about their dynamic, the way they seemed to argue past each other rather than with each other. "The race is going to put a lot of pressure on whatever cracks are already there."
"Like it did for us," Ray said softly.
"Except we came in already knowing our foundation was shaky," I pointed out. "I'm not sure they realize how serious their problems are."
Ray nodded, and we both turned our attention back to watching for the remaining teams, each of us probably thinking about the delicate work of partnership—in business, in marriage, and in the strange adventure we'd embarked on together.
As the sun began to set, only one team remained out in the wild: the professors. When they finally arrived, they were visibly exhausted, the older couple struggling with the tropical heat and physical demands of the race.
“Vivian and Walter,” Julie said solemnly, “you’re the last team to arrive. I’m sorry to tell you that you have been eliminated from the race.”
The professors accepted the news graciously, expressing gratitude for the opportunity and pride in what they’d accomplished despite their elimination.
As I followed Ray into our room, I wondered if our marriage would last as long as theirs had. And if we were kicked off The Big Race, as we most likely would be, could we do it with similar grace?
Chapter 18
