Grill Me, Baby (32 page)

When they reached the brick terrace that preceded the beautifully landscaped grounds, Michaela felt as if they were entering an opulent park. Lush, verdant acreage extended to the water’s edge providing a breathtaking view of the Bay. Flowering jasmine and gardenias perfumed the air. Clay tennis courts beyond the pool area added to the grandeur of the grounds.

On the right side of the terrace, a very long table ran the length of the rectangular pool. The table was decorated down the center with whole artichokes, clusters of red and yellow tomatoes on the vine, and tiny eggplants. 

“Look, there’s Claudia and Bobby.” Michaela pointed to the far left where they sat under a banyan tree beside Mrs. Woodbridge who was humming as she rocked Mikey in her arms. Several others lounged on wrought iron sofas and chairs with blue and white striped pillows, chatting and sipping drinks. 

“
Hija
,” Rosa called out as soon as she saw her daughter. 

“Mamá?” With a look of elated shock, Claudia bolted from the chair and raced to her mother, pulling her into a fierce hug. Mother and daughter rocked together, happy tears streaming down their faces as they exclaimed and chatted in their lilting Argentine accent. 

Bobby joined them with Mikey in his arms and together they formed a tight circle. Everyone in the patio got up and approached them, including Michaela’s parents, Tiffany, Aunt Willow and Aunt Magda, the Woodbridges, Paolo and Michaela. Even Señora Fuentes was there, carrying on about what a wonderful family they were. 

Hours later, Michaela turned her face to the sky and said a silent prayer of thanks. She didn’t want the day to end—ever. Surrounded by her family and friends and seated next to Paolo, she felt dizzy with happiness. She was glad she had stopped drinking after the third glass of Malbec, even though she could have polished off the whole bottle. After all, today was for revelry, a jubilant celebration of Rosa Santos and her family. Little Mikey reigned supreme, looking adorable in a striped blue Ralph Lauren jumpsuit that matched his impossibly clear blue eyes as he slept in Abuela Rosa’s arms.

The Woodbridges had gone out of their way to make everyone feel at home. The afternoon sun was setting over the Bay, but nobody was in any rush to leave after gorging all afternoon on the feast of
empanadas
, tomato, avocado and red onion salad, and perfectly grilled meats. The
empanadas
, savory meat pies, were stuffed with braised sirloin, minced onions, green olives and raisins, and spiced up with cumin and other exotic spices. Paolo had skillfully grilled every type of meat imaginable including Argentinean sausages called
chorizos
.

“Paolo, did you really make the sausages? I couldn’t resist. I ate two of them,” Aunt Magda confessed, patting her tummy. Grilled until the outside was crunchy and the inside was tender, the sausages were tucked into freshly baked rolls. “What’s the Spanish word for sausage again?”

“
Chorizo.
And when we eat it inside a roll, it’s a
choripan
. They’re good for you too. Eh, Maki?” Paolo teased, grinning. 

Michaela grinned back and reserved comment. She had learned to choose her battles with Paolo and didn’t feel like rising to the bait. 

“What seasonings give the
chorizo
that savory taste? I can’t figure it out,” Aunt Willow said. “But it sure is delicious.”

“It must be the garlic, cloves and nutmeg I put in with the pork and beef mixture before filling the casings,” Paolo said. “I’m glad you liked it.”

“Paolo’s
chorizo
is the best,” Michaela declared, drawing hearty laughter and ribbing. “Gosh, people, I didn’t mean it
that
way!” 

Replete from the lunchtime feast they had washed down with the finest Argentinean Malbec, Michaela, Paolo and company lounged on the patio furniture gazing at the ocean. Michaela’s heart swelled as she watched Paolo interacting effortlessly with her family, as if they had known each other for years. Even her parents were getting along with him and God knew they were difficult to please! 

Everyone swore they couldn’t eat another bite until Claudia brought out her signature dessert, a three-layered moist vanilla sponge cake slathered with creamy
dulce de leche
. Imagining the abundant calories, Michaela groaned silently, but she ate a small slice and her taste buds went into overdrive as she savored the sweet, rich concoction. 

When Mikey woke up and started to fuss, Claudia took him inside for a feeding, followed by Bobby, who hadn’t left her side all evening. It was as if he were trying to make up for the time he had been away and caused Claudia so much unhappiness. 

Seated at the table, between her mother and Rosa, Michaela almost dropped her fork when Rosa asked, “Are you going to be at Paolo’s taping tomorrow?”

Sylvia Willoughby went from relaxed to ramrod stiff as she squeezed Michaela’s thigh beneath the table where no one could see. Michaela looked at her mother and gave her a private warning look. She had already told Tiffany and her parents that Paolo’s mother had no idea his girlfriend was competing against him. Michaela and Paolo weren’t keeping it a secret exactly, they just wanted to avoid the subject altogether while they were gathered today. There was no sense in adding drama to a family reunion and risking getting everyone riled up as they took sides.

“No. Unfortunately, I can’t,” Michaela said, answering Rosa’s question. 

Rosa made a clucking sound. “
Ay
, what a shame. Food is Paolo’s passion and he is an expert at preparing it,” she boasted, gazing at her son with maternal pride.

“Food is my daughter’s passion too,” Mom replied promptly, the competitor in her surfacing in spite of Michaela’s previous warnings. “Michaela is quite an accomplished chef.”

Rosa turned to Michaela with a surprised look. “
¿Verdad?
But you are so slim! You should have seen Paolo as a little boy. He was such a little glutton, we used to call him
raviolini
,” she said chuckling at the memory.

“You still do,” Paolo said with a hearty chuckle. He pulled his mother into a bear hug and ruffled the top of her short, layered hair. “But I forgive you.”

“Paolo is going to be the winner. There is no doubt about it.” Rosa affectionately pinched Paolo’s lean cheek as if he were still a child. 

Paolo shot a glance at Michaela and she shook her head, mouthing to him that it was okay. But Sylvia Willoughby wasn’t about to let it go. She immediately countered with, “The best thing would be to have two winners because the other chef competing for the show is quite exceptional.”

“Really? He can’t possibly be as good as Paolo,” Rosa said, pursing her mouth thoughtfully.

“It is a she,” Sylvia said through tightly pursed lips. Michaela could see her mother’s temper climbing.

“A woman is competing against Paolo?” Rosa’s brow knitted as she regarded Sylvia with a bewildered look. 

“Yes, not all great chefs are men,” Sylvia said succinctly.

“True, but why do you mention her? We all want Paolo to win, don’t we?” Rosa asked, glancing at everyone for agreement.

Suddenly, Tiffany let out a high-pitched giggle and all attention landed on her. Unfortunately, Tiff was quite tipsy from making toasts all evening. “Of course we do. And we want Mic to win too!” Tiffany crowed. “They’re both great chefs, so they should each have a show. Now that they’ve stopped fighting, they can’t keep their hands off each other. Let’s toast to them and may the best man win.” She raised her wine glass.

Of all the toasts Tiffany had made, that was the most revealing. Michaela broke the stunned silence with an apology to Rosa. Aided by Paolo, she gave a detailed explanation of what they had kept hush-hush from Rosa and why. When she finally understood their motives, Paolo’s mother relaxed. Showing solidarity and respect for their children’s love, Rosa and Sylvia proclaimed that whoever won would be celebrated equally, with no bias. After all, Rosa reasoned, it wasn’t often that young love was powerful enough to withstand a fierce competition. Sylvia had reluctantly agreed and had remained quiet—a miracle for her.

While Paolo and his family gathered around for some quiet time with Mikey, Michaela walked outside with her family as they were leaving. 

“Tiffany, were you able to get a final confirmation from our contestant for tomorrow’s taping?” Michaela asked. “I’m assuming he said yes, since you never mentioned it again.”

Tiffany’s eyes widened. “What do you mean? Aunt Willow was supposed to take care of it.”

“Me? But I didn’t have Internet access in the hospital. You offered to take care of it, Tiffany. Don’t you remember?” Aunt Willow asked, looking alarmed. 

“I, um…uh…” Tiffany stalled, glancing from one family member to the other with guilt stamped all over her face. 

“Oh, God, Tiff. Don’t tell me you were too distracted by Dr. Killjoy to remember anything about that conversation,” Michaela said, trying not to panic. “The taping is tomorrow afternoon!”

“Who the hell is Dr. Killjoy?” Dad interjected.

“Never mind.” Tiffany waved him off and whipped out her Blackberry. “Chill, everybody. I’ll email Hugo now. I’m sure Mr. Hurly Burly will jump at the opportunity.”

“Mr. Hurly Burly? Tiffany, how much wine did you drink tonight?” Dad asked with a disapproving frown.

Sylvia gave Tiffany a scorching look. “If he can’t make it, you are going to have to find a replacement ASAP! You better not let us down, missy.”

“When have I ever?” Tiffany asked with wounded dignity. “It’s a piece of cake. All of you are panicking for nothing. The guys were coming out of the woodwork to be on Mic’s show.” 

“They were?” Michaela asked dubiously. 

“Yes, why do you look so surprised?” Tiffany asked her. “I’ll be at the studio tomorrow at ten to do your makeup and hair.”

“Isn’t the studio providing hair and makeup for you?” Mom asked Michaela.

Before Michaela could answer, Tiffany said, “They might be providing it, Mom, but I want to do Mic’s make-over and she already agreed to it. Right, Mic?”

“Yes,” Michaela said.

“When I’m finished with you, you’re going to sizzle on that screen,” Tiffany said. “Don’t wake up too early. We want you to look fresh and well-rested for the camera.”

Late that night after they got home, Paolo’s mother could barely keep her eyes open. After she retired to bed, Paolo sat at his kitchen counter and opened his laptop. He missed his sexy redhead in his apartment and in his bed, but they had to keep up appearances. His mother would be scandalized if they had continued with the current sleeping arrangements. He hadn’t gotten around to reading his e-mails in a long while and decided to log onto his
Grill Me, Baby
web page to keep his mind off Michaela. The last time Paolo had checked the progress of his promo campaign led by Gil, there had been a long waiting list of women angling to be in the audience. 

A loud knock on his door got his attention and he hurried to answer it before his mother woke up. When he opened it, he found Juan Ramirez standing before him holding some papers.

“
Hola
, Juan. Come in. What brings you here so late?” Paolo asked, clapping him on the shoulder in greeting.

“
Hola
. I need to talk to Claudia.” Juan looked around Paolo’s apartment. “Is she here?”

“Do you realize it’s almost one in the morning?”

“I know. I’m sorry, but this is important.” He blushed. “I haven’t seen her all week and I was wondering if she’s okay.”

“Claudia is fine. She’s back with her husband.”

“Oh.” Juan looked disappointed. “I guess that’s good, considering she has Mikey and all.”

“Yes,” Paolo agreed, wondering why Juan looked fidgety and nervous. 

“I…uh…I wanted to show her this.” Juan held out two papers and handed them to Paolo. 

Paolo read the first one: 

Congratulations, Hugo! You have been selected to appear on Michaela Willoughby’s show. The sexy ginger-haired chef welcomes you as her special guest to The Pleasure Palate where your dining wish is her command. Attached please find a script for your portion of the show. Please read it and confirm your participation. Looking forward to meeting you! The Luv Bite Team.

The second paper was a meticulously scripted plan for Michaela’s
Pleasure Palate
show.

“I don’t get it. What are you doing with this?” Paolo asked, searching Juan’s face.

“I am Hugo St. Paul,” Juan confessed with an embarrassed grin. 

Paolo wearily rubbed the stubble on his jaw and stared at Juan. “What did you say?” 

“I’m Hugo, the guy who wrote that e-mail,” he said in a small voice.

“
You
wrote that e-mail?” Paolo asked, giving him an incredulous look.

Juan gave a sheepish nod. 

Paolo shook his head to clear it of the cobwebs that seemed to have gathered there. “I don’t understand. Why would you do that?”

“Señora Fuentes got Claudia all worried that a cyber weirdo might end up on your girlfriend, Maki’s show. So we came up with a plan that I would send an e-mail and try to get on her show instead.”

Paolo couldn’t believe his ears. “What an absurd idea. Claudia never told me about this.”

“She didn’t want anyone to know.”

That was not what Paolo wanted to hear. What else had Claudia been up to behind the scenes, he wondered uneasily. “Did she ask you to do it?”

“No, I offered.” Juan shrugged and grinned. “I kinda went a little crazy sending a bunch of e-mails with different names so Claudia could relax. Believe me, I was surprised when they picked me. My e-mails were funny and creative, but the one from Hugo St. Paul was the best of all.”

“Why? What did you say?”

“I described myself as a glutton who worshipped butter and cheese. I said I admired Maki’s cooking and was willing to reform for health reasons.”

Paolo’s jaw dropped as he saw Juan with different eyes. The poor kid was so smitten with Claudia, he’d been willing to concoct a screwball plan just to win her over.