three of them were dressed far more formally than anyone else in the room.
Sam had met Eduardo's parents once before, when she and Eduardo had taken an impromptu trip to Peru right after graduation. They lived in a fantastic white villa on a mountainside overlooking the capital city that had all the creature comforts of a Bel Air mansion and then some. Pedro Munoz was a high-placed government official, and Consuela owned Lima's most prestigious art gallery. Each had been educated abroad—Pedro at St. Paul's and then Dartmouth, Consuela at a boarding school in the south of France and then the Sorbonne, with a two-year stint at Carnegie-Mellon in the middle.
Sam's parents introduced themselves, and then they all stepped inside, where the air was at least fifteen degrees cooler and smelled of oranges and bergamot, thanks to a thick scented candle flickering on the coffee table. The room could have been designed in the 1920s; there was something timeless about its crystal chandeliers and polished brass sconces. The furniture, all buttery yellow and pale apricot, was plush but sophisticated, and tufted stools and velvet throw pillows gave the seating area an almost
Alice in Wonderland
feel. A baby grand piano stood in one corner, and through the bathroom door Sam glimpsed a mint green Jacuzzi tub and a tower of plush towels piled almost to the ceiling.
When she'd been in Peru back in June, Consuela had been the perfect hostess. Tonight, she outdid herself again, bringing a pitcher of iced limeade and a fruit platter from the kitchen as Sam joined Eduardo on the lemon silk brocade couch, and Dina and Jackson settled into cream-colored club chairs. Pedro perched on a peach chenille love seat. Eduardo kissed Sam's cheek and entwined his fingers with hers.
“You look beautiful,” he murmured, low enough that none of the parentals could overhear.
Sam smiled. He knew exactly the right thing to say. Though she'd felt reasonably calm when she was in the lobby with her parents, the walk down the path to the bungalow had been a nerve-racking experience, and she was now so anxious that she could actually feel a drop of sweat traveling into her two-hundred-dollar black-and-beige lace La Perla push-up bra.
“So,” Consuela began as she sat next to her husband on the peach love seat and crossed her slender, elegant legs. “We come together to discuss a happy occasion. We are very fond of your daughter.”
“Then we already have something in common,” Jackson said in his resonant movie-star voice, glancing over at Sam with paternal warmth. “Because we're fond of her too.”
Sam tried very hard not to roll her eyes, but Consuela smiled and looked charmed.
“We understand our children would like to be married soon.” Pedro took a sip of the fresh limeade that Consuela had poured for him. “It's a lovely idea.”
“Why have a long engagement when you know exactly what you want?” Eduardo added rhetorically, smiling at Sam and squeezing her hand.
Dina cleared her throat and crossed her legs, revealing perhaps the ugliest red-and-black zigzag-patterned trouser socks Sam had ever seen. She was momentarily stunned by the notion that someone related to her
by blood
had actually gone into a store, picked out these socks, and said to herself,
Yeah, wow, these are cute—I definitely want these
.
“Sam is very young. We thought she'd wait until after college even to think about marriage,” Dina said slowly, twirling her own glass of limeade in her small hands.
Sam looked at her mother, unable to handle the combination of the ugly socks and this latest statement. “How would you know?” she blurted, instantly regretting it. She didn't want to look like a snotty little bitch in front of Eduardo's parents. Well, too late.
“It's true that Sam and I haven't seen a lot of each other.” Dina looked from Pedro to Consuela, neither of whom betrayed a sign of surprise. “I hope to change that in the future.”
Sam rolled her eyes
Sam had met Eduardo's parents once before, when she and Eduardo had taken an impromptu trip to Peru right after graduation. They lived in a fantastic white villa on a mountainside overlooking the capital city that had all the creature comforts of a Bel Air mansion and then some. Pedro Munoz was a high-placed government official, and Consuela owned Lima's most prestigious art gallery. Each had been educated abroad—Pedro at St. Paul's and then Dartmouth, Consuela at a boarding school in the south of France and then the Sorbonne, with a two-year stint at Carnegie-Mellon in the middle.
Sam's parents introduced themselves, and then they all stepped inside, where the air was at least fifteen degrees cooler and smelled of oranges and bergamot, thanks to a thick scented candle flickering on the coffee table. The room could have been designed in the 1920s; there was something timeless about its crystal chandeliers and polished brass sconces. The furniture, all buttery yellow and pale apricot, was plush but sophisticated, and tufted stools and velvet throw pillows gave the seating area an almost
Alice in Wonderland
feel. A baby grand piano stood in one corner, and through the bathroom door Sam glimpsed a mint green Jacuzzi tub and a tower of plush towels piled almost to the ceiling.
When she'd been in Peru back in June, Consuela had been the perfect hostess. Tonight, she outdid herself again, bringing a pitcher of iced limeade and a fruit platter from the kitchen as Sam joined Eduardo on the lemon silk brocade couch, and Dina and Jackson settled into cream-colored club chairs. Pedro perched on a peach chenille love seat. Eduardo kissed Sam's cheek and entwined his fingers with hers.
“You look beautiful,” he murmured, low enough that none of the parentals could overhear.
Sam smiled. He knew exactly the right thing to say. Though she'd felt reasonably calm when she was in the lobby with her parents, the walk down the path to the bungalow had been a nerve-racking experience, and she was now so anxious that she could actually feel a drop of sweat traveling into her two-hundred-dollar black-and-beige lace La Perla push-up bra.
“So,” Consuela began as she sat next to her husband on the peach love seat and crossed her slender, elegant legs. “We come together to discuss a happy occasion. We are very fond of your daughter.”
“Then we already have something in common,” Jackson said in his resonant movie-star voice, glancing over at Sam with paternal warmth. “Because we're fond of her too.”
Sam tried very hard not to roll her eyes, but Consuela smiled and looked charmed.
“We understand our children would like to be married soon.” Pedro took a sip of the fresh limeade that Consuela had poured for him. “It's a lovely idea.”
“Why have a long engagement when you know exactly what you want?” Eduardo added rhetorically, smiling at Sam and squeezing her hand.
Dina cleared her throat and crossed her legs, revealing perhaps the ugliest red-and-black zigzag-patterned trouser socks Sam had ever seen. She was momentarily stunned by the notion that someone related to her
by blood
had actually gone into a store, picked out these socks, and said to herself,
Yeah, wow, these are cute—I definitely want these
.
“Sam is very young. We thought she'd wait until after college even to think about marriage,” Dina said slowly, twirling her own glass of limeade in her small hands.
Sam looked at her mother, unable to handle the combination of the ugly socks and this latest statement. “How would you know?” she blurted, instantly regretting it. She didn't want to look like a snotty little bitch in front of Eduardo's parents. Well, too late.
“It's true that Sam and I haven't seen a lot of each other.” Dina looked from Pedro to Consuela, neither of whom betrayed a sign of surprise. “I hope to change that in the future.”
Sam rolled her eyes
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