Should I get a vacation home?I’m thinking to myself, as I use the built-in grill on the patio outside the main house. We could probably get a small one on a beach somewhere, or maybe on a lake in the Catskills or something. Probably inland, since the coasts could be gone in five to ten years, according to the scientists in my energy startup. But this is really fucking nice. Frankie and I could go up on weekends and do more of this relaxing thing we’re trying out.
I have more money than I know what to do with at this point. My retirement fund is looking good, Frankie’s college fund is filled up. Maybe I should start buying some real estate for us.
“Oh, wow. Hey,” Lina says from behind me. I swing around, only to see that same look from earlier on her face, surprise or discerning skepticism, maybe, as she walks up the path from the guest house to the patio.
I look down at myself, making sure my ass isn’t hanging out or something. Everything looks okay. “Hey.”
“I didn’t realize we were starting dinner so early. Sorry I took so long. Washing my hair is a whole thing,” she says, pointing to the mane of glorious curls on her head. “I’ll run in and see what else I can help with.”
“Don’t worry about it. I think we’re all set. Just burgers and salad tonight. Keeping it easy for the first night,” I say, flipping said burgers one last time.
She’s still staring at me with that look in her eyes. “‘Kay,” she finally says. “Can I get you something, chef?”
“I’m good. Really.”
She shrugs and walks into the house.
I turn and start melting cheese. By the time the burgers are off the grill and the buns are on, I hear the back door open and close, and Lina is striding back towards me with two wine glasses in hand.
“They kicked me out of the kitchen and told me to bring this to you,” she says. I take it from her and clink our glasses together.
She takes a seat in one of the lounge chairs by the grill, sipping on her wine, watching the ocean beyond.
The wine is delicious, a rosé so crisp and dry it nearly tears my face off. I love it, andthis is really fucking nice. On the beach at night, barefoot and in a t-shirt, sipping wine, grilling at a multi-million dollar home, with the noise of the surf breaking a soundtrack to the evening, a gorgeous woman sitting a few feet away from me, my daughter and family safe and sound inside.
“This is really fucking nice,” Lina says so quietly, in a voice that makes me want to hold her hand.
“We get a full week of this,” I agree, as quietly as her.
Frankie takes this opportunity to burst outside holding a teetering stack of plates. Real ones. I move into action, but Lina beats me to it. She grabs the top half of the pile, leaving Frankie the bottom, and together they set the massive dining table out on the patio.
“What do you want to do this week, Frankie?” Lina asks.
“I wanna swim every day. And I wanna walk on the beach. And now I wanna make drip castles,” she tells Lina. One of her pigtails has somehow gotten dislodged in the three and a half seconds she’s been outside and now droops sadly. Lina notices this and retightens it after placing her last plate down. I ignore the fuzzy feeling that’s taken a hold of my chest. “I wanna read all the books I brought and finish my World War II book. And then Daddy and I looked online at things to do in Westerly, and there’s a Pirate Plunder and a water park nearby.”
The rest of the Flores family strolls outside, Tita Gloria holding a huge salad bowl, Uncle Ben holding a huge tray of oysters.
“We’d be happy to take you there, Frankie,” Uncle Ben adds on.
“I want to come to the water park,” Georgia says. “But what’s a Pirate Plunder?”
“It’s a pirate adventure. There are pirate ships and sea monsters and treasure and maps,” Frankie says confidently, but not quite answering the question, thrilled to be surrounded by so many people who are at her beck and call. “I also wanna do a new thing, Daddy.”
“What’s that?”
“I wanna play hide and seek because this is a big house with lots of rooms and places to hide and there are lots of people here that can hide.”
“That’s actually a great idea,” I tell her.
“Super fun,” Lina agrees.
We sit and start serving ourselves, passing plates and platters around.
“What do you want to do this week, Tita Lina?” Frankie asks, and I glow with some sort of internal parental pride, that she remembered her manners and who originally asked her the question.
“I want to relax,” Lina says. “I want to have fun. I don’t want to work too much.” She glances at me with a smile, like we share a secret. “Just like your dad.”
“I still have to work, but I do want to relax and have fun,” I tell Frankie, wanting to be upfront so she can manage her expectations.
