As soon as the door closed behind her, Will Sr wheezed, “What are you thinking, inviting her here?”
“I didn’t. Giana did.” Will said defensively.
“Let’s not play coy; I can see how you look at her.”
“She’ll only be working for me a few more weeks. I haven’t crossed any line.”
“Of course you have! You should never have hired her the way you are feeling!” Will Sr fired back.
Will grew irritated and upset that his father was so strict about the employee-employer roles, which, in his eyes, were black-and-white. “She is the right choice for the company. She’s doing great work. No one can say that I’ve been inappropriate or anything.”
“Damn it son! It’s not your reputation I’m protecting, it’s hers!” Will Sr took a few drags off his oxygen while Will looked at him quizzically, then continued. “If you start a relationship with her, every achievement, every career move, every accomplishment will be marred by you. No one will think it was of her own doing. They will think it was your affection for her that skewed the feedback and outcome!”
Will had never considered this at all. “But I… I hired auditors to check her work. I made sure there was an unbiased evaluation.”
“Yes, and that will protect you with the board. But in the court of public opinion, it won’t mean much.”
Will was crestfallen. How had he not considered this? He really must be an arrogant bastard after all, to think all this time he was only concerned with his own reputation; he never considered hers.
“If you pursue her, you’d better make damn sure you know what you’re taking from her, and make sure she knows what she’s getting into.”
As if on cue, Lizzie returned to the room. She was the embodiment of spirit. Curls were escaping her chignon, her eyes dazzling. She was alive in a way that made his chest physically ache—and realized his father might be the only person in the world still capable of talking sense into him.
Will tried to push his father’s words from his head and focus instead on the lively conversation with Lizzie and the fire in her eyes as she talked about past projects and the problems she had solved. Will admired the joy she had for her work, but all he could think was how, if his dad was right, he’d be destroying just that.
Chapter 13- Brujería
It took two bottles of wine, a concession allowing Giana to make three of the dishes, and a threat from Ramon to quit, but they had made it to dinner. Ramon had to run as the storm outside worsened; he was eager to see his family, but the table was set, and the spread was opulent.
There were Cuban dishes, lechón and turkey as promised, but alsoYucca (a tuber cooked in a citrus garlic sauce), Moros(a dish of white rice and black beans that was cooked together with sofrito and bacon), andMaduros(ripe plantains fried and served sticky and sweet). There was also a mix of Thanksgiving staples, like green bean casserole and sweet potato mash.
Giana had changed into a simple white sheath dress and was focused on photographing all the dishes. “Mi Vida,” her mother said to her. “Do you think we could sit and eat the food, or is this strictly for social media?”
Abuela chuckled at this, and Giana waved a hand impatiently. “I was literally only taking pictures for two seconds. I need to document the meal I made!”
“Sure, you ‘made’ this meal, and I dug thelechonpits yesterday,” Will said, rolling his eyes.
“Well, I helped, and I need to make sure I document it so that I can prove to my future husband that I can cook.” She said and stuck out her tongue at her brother.
“Don’t worry, with afiguralike that,puedes quemar agua y todo,” Abuela said with a wicked wink. “Pero esta—” she jerkedher chin toward Lizzie, “—a man can tell she cooks goodporque come bien, y tiene carnita rica pa’ agarrar!”
Giana, translated for her dad between wheezing laughs.“She said I could burn water and still get married, but you can tell Lizzie can cook because she has meat to hold onto. Abuela, you’re savage!”
Lizzie went crimson and buried her face in her hands. Will’s smirk deepened into something dangerously close to a grin, eyes locked on Lizzie as if the rest of the table had vanished. Isabela dabbed at her eyes with her napkin, still coughing through laughter, while Abuela just beamed around the table like she’d paid the highest compliment known to womankind.
The dinner went on this way; the wine flowed easily, and the dishes were passed around. Abuela provided comedic relief, whether purposely or not, which wasn’t clear to Lizzie, but the atmosphere was jolly. Lizzie was reminded of a time when she was younger and would be embarrassed by her grandmother. She’d ask her grandmother not to speak Spanish in front of other people and would beg her to pack her lunch in a regular Tupperware, like the other kids used, not the recycled butter containers she was so fond of. Lizzie had wanted so badly to fit in with her peers that she had suppressed her Cuban side as much as she could. She ironed every curl out of her hair and listened exclusively to pop, rock, and even country music to fit in with the popular girls in her class.
She wasn’t sure when the change had happened, but seemingly overnight, she began to care less and less about fitting in and instead leaned into her family’s culture. She embraced the loud talking and rhythmic music. She openly spoke Spanish to others and bragged about her family’s traditions. She didn’t care that it meant that she didn’t have a date for Prom or any real relationship at all. She didn’t care that she was maybe too chubby for some and too loud for others. She felt proud of that.
Tonight, at this table, she felt that the younger Lizzie would’ve been mortified that her grandmother was making such a spectacle of herself among the classy and affluent Pemberleys. But she didn’t feel that now. Instead, she felt possessive of her Abuela and oddly proud. This was the embodiment of where she came from, an embodiment of home for Lizzie. And if anyone thought less of her, may they be damned. Lizzie was bursting with love.
Dinner was wrapped up, and everyone looked like they couldn’t fit another morsel in their bodies. The dinner had been delicious. Even Giana’s dishes, which the Pemberleys seemed very hesitant to try, turned out delicious! It may have been the wine, but Lizzie thought this had been one of the most fabulous Thanksgiving dinners in memory.
A loud crash of thunder made them all jump, and Lizzie was suddenly aware that she’d have to drive back in this storm. As if reading her thoughts, Isabela said, “Well, my dears, I think you must make yourselves comfortable. I don’t think there’s any chance of your leaving here tonight.”
Lizzie wasn’t sure what to say. She looked instinctively at Will, who was avoiding her gaze. Was it her imagination that Will Sr had shot him a look?
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe in an hour or two, the weather will improve enough that I can drive us back and not intrude?”
