Lynda Sandoval - One Perfect Man

“She only calls me that to get my goat,” Ruby told Erica.

Smiling, Erica opened the pages of the portfolio turning them to face Tomás and Hope. “First of all, you’re going to have to sign up for some reconfirmation classes at your church.” She glanced at Tomás. “I’m assuming you do want religious instruction as a part of this? From what I’ve read, it’s traditional to have a thanksgiving mass with the ceremony, but this is the twenty-first century and I’m all about being nontraditional. We can modify however you wish.”

“Well, we belong to a church in town.” His face heated. “I can’t say we’re there fifty-two Sundays a year—”

“Or ever,” Hope quipped.

Erica waved that away. “I’ll leave that up to you. If you decide to go the church route, though, you should get started.” She turned a page. “Hope, you’ll also have to choose some community service to do for the summer.”

She looked baffled. “Like what?”

“Anything that interests you,” Tomás said.

Hope looked at her grandmother. “I’d like to do something for people with multiple sclerosis.”

Erica smiled. “Perfect. I’ll search out some options, and you can do the same.”

“There is a ranch around here that offers therapeutic horseback riding for people with MS. It’s called hippotherapy, even though I think it should be called horse-o-therapy.” The adults laughed, and she shrugged. “We learned about it in health class. I guess riding a horse can help some people with their MS symptoms. Maybe I could volunteer there?”

“That’s beautiful, baby,” Tomás said, kissing her cheek.

“Yes.” Ruby reached over and patted Hope’s hand. “But don’t even think about getting me on a horse.”

Everyone chuckled again.

“Other than that, assuming you’ll have the mass and ceremony at your church…?” She looked at Tomás in question, and he nodded. “Then the most pressing details will be selecting and booking a site for la fiesta, the party afterward, and ordering the cake, choosing a menu and selecting Hope’s vestido.”

“My what?”

“Your dress,” all three adults answered at once.

“And you’ll need to select your damas and chambelanes, in other words, the lords and ladies who will comprise your honor court.” Erica winked. “In plain talk, friends who get to dress up with you and cute boys you all get to dance with. Seven of each is traditional, plus one special escort just for you.”

Hope blushed prettily.

Erica flipped another page. “There are other smaller details…ordering the cake, deciding what recuerdos, or mementos you’d like for all your guests, learning the waltz—”

“What waltz?” Hope shrieked.

Tomás chuckled. It’s traditional for the corte de honor, your lords and ladies, to dance the waltz. Along with you and me, and I get the first dance.” Hope pulled a look of abject horror. “Don’t worry, baby, if I can do it, you can do it.”

“Smaller details yet—” Erica directed her comment to Tomás “—you’ll need to come up with a toast, Hope’s godparents will present her with a gift. And then there is the shoe thing.”

“What shoe thing?” Hope asked.

“At one point during the fiesta, before the waltz with your father, he is to replace your patent-leather flats with a pair of high heels. After that, all the younger children gather, and you’ll toss the muñeca, your final doll of childhood. It’s all meant to represent your move from childhood to adulthood.”

“It sounds so weddingish,” Hope said, nose crinkled.

Erica tipped her head to the side. “Well, it sort of is. It’s an acknowledgement by your family and your community that you’re no longer a child. A rite of passage.”

“Does that mean I get to date boys?” Hope teased.

Tomás made a pained face. “Unfortunately, yes. But no car dating until you’re thirty.”

“Gee, sounds reasonable,” Erica said, jokingly. “You know, it is also traditional for Hope’s godparents and other special people in her life to act as sponsors, defray some of the costs.”

“No need. I’ve got it all.”

Her eyebrows lifted on a careful inhale, but she didn’t question it. “Whatever works for you.”

He regarded her across the table. For an assignment she hadn’t wanted, she’d sure done a lot of work already. He had been smart to hire her, despite the exorbitant fee. The portfolio pages held drawings, fabric swatches, lists, charts. They’d gone over each page, with Tomás alternating between nodding and watching her intelligent, beautiful face. Her full lips moved sensuously as she spoke. It was enough to distract him completely from the matter at hand. The working Erica and the having-a-friendly-dinner Erica were two parts of a very interesting, enticing whole. He had to remember, she was here for Hope. Man, he had to stop watching her mouth.

“So, what do you think?” The portfolio closed, and Erica tossed her hair. “I’ve been doing most of the talking.”

“It’s going to be so nice,” Ruby said.

“It looks wonderful to me.” Tomás looked at Hope. “Baby?”

She rolled her eyes, and he grinned, because she hated to be called that. But she was his baby, from the moment he’d held her tiny swaddled form when he was seventeen—alone, at once terrified of and awed by what he’d created, adoring and determined to protect her—to now, when she was on the verge of womanhood. Mysterious and edgy. She’d always be his baby, like it or not. Some things he wouldn’t budge on.

Hope lifted a shoulder, her face emotionless. “It’s fine.”

“Fine?”

“Sure.” Her eyes flickered uncertainly toward Erica. “I mean, the ideas are good.”

“Do you have any other ideas?” Erica asked.

“Not really,” Hope said, after a moment of thought.

Tomás sighed, pulled a put-upon face and hugged Hope closer. “What did I tell you about Little Miss No Help at All?”

Hope clicked her tongue. “Dad, stop it.”

Erica rezipped the portfolio. “It’s a lot to take in, but we have plenty of time, don’t worry. Speaking of which—” she propped her elbows atop the portfolio and knotted her hands beneath her chin. “When do you get out of school, Hope?”

“In June.”

“Okay. That’s perfect. I think we can wait to do a lot of the legwork until after that. I’ll spend the rest of this month planning. You concentrate on school. I’ve got the festival and some other assignments, too.” She checked her PalmPilot, which she’d retrieved from her bag. “Does that work for you, Tomás?”

“Absolutely, if you think you can swing everything. But perhaps you and I…can we meet briefly, say, once a week for a progress update? Just a coffee or lunch in town—”

“Or dinner,” suggested Hope. Ruby and Tomás turned to her, surprise in their expressions.

Erica made a notation in her PalmPilot, ignoring the dinner prompt altogether. “Coffee works. We can set some times….”

Tomás gripped the top of Hope’s head in his hand and shook playfully. “Let me get this one off to bed and we can talk a few minutes before you leave, coordinate things.”

“Dad,” Hope groaned, standing up. “I can go to bed myself, you know. I’m not a baby.”

“I know, I know, so you keep telling me.” He smacked her playfully on the backside. “You run on then.”

Hope blinked shyly at Erica. “Thanks for coming over, Erica. I hope you liked dinner.”

“You’re welcome, and it was great. We’ll talk soon?”

Hope giggled. “Okay.” She turned to her dad. “Erica loves puppies. She thinks everyone should have one.”

Tomás smirked in Erica’s direction. “Thanks a lot.”