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Carlo had endured a minimum amount of ribbing about Emma’s absence since Tomás had made it clear to all the brothers that the subject was off limits. His brother had also playfully reinforced that instruction with a threat about the kind of pain a Ranger could inflict and all of the brothers had listened.
Carlo was grateful for that since it made it a little easier to deal with the situation. But as he sat there eating tasteless food that was anything but tasteless, he told himself to get over it and Emma and enjoy this time with his family.
He was clearing off dinner plates from the table when the doorbell rang, surprising everyone in the room since the da Costa family had an open-door policy on holidays which meant you were invited to just walk right in. Carlo was closest, so he shoved the plates he held at his older brother Ricardo and went to see who would be knocking, ignoring the way his heart knocked unevenly as he hoped it might be Emma.
He jerked the door open to find her standing there, nervously clasping her purse. “Emma?” he asked, surprised, but pleased.
With a sharp jerk of her shoulders, she said, “Mom and I got done early and I wasn’t ready to go back to Sea Kiss yet. I hope you don’t mind that I changed my mind about coming. I’d understand if it was too late to visit.”
“No, it’s not too late at all. We were just cleaning up and getting ready for the next round of food. You know how we love food and company. Come in. Por favor,” he said and held his arm out wide to invite her in.
***
EMMA PEELED OFF HER jacket and handed it to Carlo. He walked into the front parlor and casually tossed it on top of the pile of coats already on the sofa.
Carlo laid a hand at the small of her back and guided her to the dining room table which had been cleared of a traditional Thanksgiving meal of turkey and other American dishes. Years earlier Carlo had told her that when his grandparents had come from Portugal they’d insisted that the family learn to be American and honor American customs and traditions. For that reason, the da Costa family went all out to make sure their Thanksgiving was as American as the apple pie that would shortly be brought out for dessert. The only concession to breaking tradition was the assorted Portuguese pastries which graced every holiday table.
A stilted silence settled over the normally boisterous clan as she entered the dining room and Carlo glared at all of them, clearly commanding his family to behave with his look. It was obvious that they hadn’t expected her to come that night.
His mother was first to act. She jumped to her feet, walked over to Emma, and hugged her enthusiastically. “It’s so good to have you here, Emma.”
“It’s good to be here. I’m sorry I missed dinner, but I already ate with my mother,” she said and laid her hand over her stomach.
Ricardo jumped into the discussion. “If you ask me, you could use a little more meat on your bones. My brother too,” he said and poked Carlo in the ribs.
“I think you’ve been eating too many of your own pasteis de nata, Rickie. Javi, tambén,” Tomás kidded. As Emma snuck a quick peek at Carlo’s brothers, Ricardo and Javier, it was obvious they were sampling a great many treats at their bakery and getting a bit round.
“Basta,” Carlo’s father called out, drawing her attention as he sat at the head of the table like a king with his subjects.
“Seems to me the Army must be pretty desperate to take a runt like you,” Javier kidded and wrapped a beefy arm around Tomás’s neck to give him a loving noogie.
“Por favor. We have a guest,” their mother chided and slipped in between Tomás and Javier as they began to good-naturedly scuffle.
Carlo’s father slapped the table in jest and in a booming voice said, “Por favor, Rosa. Boys will be boys.”
Rosa rolled her eyes and Carlo did the same, dragging a laugh from Emma. “Some things just don’t change, do they, Em?” Carlo said.
Having experienced many a holiday with Carlo’s family, she was glad that things had returned to the da Costa version of normal so quickly. She always loved being with his family. Even though things sometimes got loud and animated as it had before, there was no doubt they all loved and respected each other. It was such a difference from her own family and many a time it had made her wonder what it would be like to be a permanent part of a family like this.
And being a part of her own family with Carlo, the little voice chided.
Carlo’s family hauled out dish after dish of assorted Portuguese desserts. Rice pudding. Custard tarts. Flan. Carlo’s favorite bolo de bolacha, a cake-like dessert made with ground tea cookies, coffee, milk, and sugar. A few different baked bolas from his family’s bakery. Pots of espresso and bottles of port completed the dessert portion of the meal.
Carlo grabbed a bola de berlim, the Portuguese equivalent of a custard-filled donut, and offered it to her. His arm brushed against hers as he reached for the dessert and his tension was impossible to ignore. Emma shot him a nervous half-glance, smoothed a hand down his arm, and offered up a smile.
“This is your favorite, isn’t it?” she asked.
“It is,” he said and she took a bite. After she murmured her pleasure, he placed the rest of the bola on her plate and cut slices of the bolo de bolacha for the rest of the family.
“I remember this one too,” she said and motioned to another dessert that his mother passed over to them. “It’s like tiramisu,” she said and forked up a piece of the sweet.
“You could say that,” he said and ate a big piece. “You did good, mamãe. It’s delicious.”
“Obrigado, milho. You’ll have to take some of it home with you,” his mother said with a satisfied smile.
“I won’t argue with you,” Carlo replied and for the next half an hour or so, the meal passed with playful banter and the eating of a ton of the desserts. Carlo and she passed on the sherry since they were driving, but not Paolo and Tomás who were Carlo’s passengers for the ride to Sea Kiss. Emma hoped the brothers’ trip home would not be punctuated with comments about her surprise appearance because that would only make the situation between them that much more awkward.
As dessert wound down, Emma shifted uneasily in the chair and considered whether to make an exit as abrupt as her arrival. But she owed Carlo more and dutifully sat beside him while they chatted over dessert plates virtually licked clean and the glasses of sherry which were refilled a few times for the others while Carlo and she lingered over their demitasse cups of espresso.
When his mother rose to start clearing off the dishes, Carlo also stood and Emma popped up beside him, knocking elbows with him as they both reached for the same dish on the table. They chuckled good naturedly and adjusted, picking up other plates to bring into the kitchen where his sisters-in-law were busy packing away the leftovers and making doggie bags for people to take home.
After they had finished, Emma stood by her chair awkwardly and said, “I guess it’s time for me to go home. Thank you all so much for a lovely night.”
“It’s late. I’ll walk you to your car.” Carlo placed his hand at the small of her back as they strolled to the front door. He scooped her coat off the pile in the parlor and helped her slip it on. They were about to head out the door when his mother bustled out holding two large storage containers filled with the desserts as well as some turkey and stuffing.
“Don’t forget your goodies and obrigado for coming, Emma. I know Carlo was very happy to see you,” Rosa said and bright color flashed across his face with embarrassment.
“Obrigado, Rosa. It was my pleasure to be with all of you tonight,” Emma said graciously and accepted the containers from his mom. As always, she had truly enjoyed her time in the warmth and love of Carlo’s family.
***
ROSA POKED CARLO IN the chest and said, “Take care of minha nina.”
He feigned injury and kidded, “Ouch, mamãe.”
His mother wagged her finger in his face before she waddled away to join the rest of the family in the dining room.
They stood in the foyer awkwardly for a moment before Emma said, “I should go. It’s a long trip back to Sea Kiss.”
“It is and we’ve both got tons of work to do in the next few days,” he said and opened the door. When she stepped out, he followed and strolled with her down the steps to the sidewalk. Almost reflexively he ran his hand across the azulejo of the Lady of Fatima worked into the retaining wall by the steps. Murmured a short prayer that Emma’s unexpected appearance was a good sign.
Emma was silent as they hurried down the sidewalk and he could see Emma’s Sebring parked toward the end of the block. They were silent as they walked and at her car, they stopped and stood there uneasily again. He shrugged his shoulders against the slight chill of the late November night and said, “Thank you for coming. My family was really happy to see you.”
She narrowed her gaze and hugged the plastic containers to her midsection. “Only your family was happy to see me?”
With a rough shift of his shoulders, he said, “Me, too. I’m glad you came. It felt really weird without you.”
Emma nodded. “It was really weird not to come and I felt bad that your brothers might be busting your chops about it.”
“They were relentless, so obrigado,” he said, placed a hand over his heart and did a little bow of gratitude.
She chuckled and smiled. “I couldn’t let that happen to a friend and we are friends, right?”
Caralho, he was being friend-zoned, he thought, and his heart plummeted with disappointment. “We are. Friends,” he said hesitantly, unsure of whether he could accept being only friends with her.
She must have sensed his disillusionment. With a small smile, she cradled his cheek and stroked her thumb across his face. “It’s a start and not an ending, Carlo.”
A start to what? he thought and at her shocked look, it occurred to him he had said it out loud.
“To something more,” she replied.
He also wanted to believe that it could be something more. “I want that too, Emma. Friends . . . and maybe more,” he said and turned his face to drop a kiss on her palm.
A powerful blush erupted across her face and he grinned, pleased that she was not unaffected by his kiss. He reached past her to open her door and then they stood there again awkwardly. “Please text me when you get home. I worry about my friends.”
She smiled and said, “I will. You do the same, okay? I worry about my friends too.”
He nodded. “I won’t be too late, but I’ve got to pry Paolo and Tomás away. It’s hard to do when they’ve had way too much sherry.”
Her smile faded a bit and she glanced back up the sidewalk toward his family’s home. “How is Tomás doing?”
He mimicked her action and considered his statement before admitting, “I’m not sure. He seems to be handling it, but he’s always so . . . controlled. Regimented which is why the Army is such a good fit for him.”
A chuckle escaped her. “Controlled seems to be a da Costa trait.”
He laughed, but then something dark inside of him made him say, “You seemed to like it when I lost control at Maggie’s wedding.”
Bright red color swept up her neck and painted her cheeks and ears. “I think I did,” she admitted, surprising him.
He decided to take that small victory that said maybe more was truly possible. Leaning toward her, he whispered a kiss across her lips. “Drive safe. Think of me.”
“I will,” she said and kissed him back, surprising him. But before he could follow-up, she got in the car, shut the door, and started the car. Flashing him a hesitant smile, she drove off.
He stayed there watching her car until she turned onto Ferry Street to head toward the Turnpike. Grinning, he strolled back toward his family’s home, feeling very thankful for all that had happened that night.
Feeling hopeful about what might be happening with Emma.
