Page 20 of A Dish Best Served Hot

“Of course, we’ll have to get to know each other first and it will take some work, but it will be worth it. You’ll see.”

Rosalyn looked up at her dad, which unfortunately meant that Lola had to look at him too. She’d tried not to at the seniors’ home. She’d been careful to keep her gaze averted and to never look at him head-on because she knew the effect he had on her, but there was no hope for it now.

Saint had certainly grown into all the physical promise of his youth. He wasn’t much taller than the six feet he’d been as a teen, but he had filled out. He seemed almost twice as wide as he had been. There were cords of muscle straining against the shoulders and chest of his sweater. Even his neck was thicker. It was as if he’d inflated like one of those huge pool floats that you can ride on. And great. Now she was thinking about riding him. There was no doubt in her mind that it would be good. Really good, but very intense. It was clear from his energy.

It was difficult to reconcile the differences between the fresh-faced and doe-eyed seventeen-year-old boy she’d loved and this dark and almost menacing man with a cynical look in his eye even as he smiled down at his daughter. The Saint she’d known had been all lightness and hope despite his serious nature. This man. It was clear that this man had those rose-colored glasses ripped right off his face. He’d seen the darkness of the world, battled it, and was now a part of it. It made her sad for the boy she’d known. He’d really had no idea what he was getting himself into, but Lola had known. Even then she’d known that they’d take that naive boy who saw everything through rose-colored glasses and they’d destroy him. She hadn’t wanted that for him, but he’d made it clear that she had no say in the matter, despite the love they shared.

“Guess what, mi amor.”

His deep voice washed over her and again all her nerves prickled. It was like dipping your fingers and toes into hot water after they’d been freezing and numb. It wasn’t exactly painful, but it wasn’t pleasurable either. Lola was so caught up in the feeling that she answered, “What?” as if he were talking to her and not his daughter.

There was a beat of silence in which Lola realized what she’d just done. Her eyes flew to Mrs. Fonseca and Dolores first, who were wearing matching blank expressions. Good. Maybe they hadn’t heard. She slowly turned her eyes to Saint. Her hopes were dashed.

Partially hidden in the scruff of his short beard, his full bottom lip was quirked to the side in a smirk. His deep brown eyes were crinkled a bit at the corners. He’d heard.

Lola cleared her throat and looked back at the little girl at his hip. “Whata great time we are going to have together, Rosalyn.”

He ignored that ridiculous attempt to correct her egregious error. “Rosie, I know your new teacher from a long time ago.”

The little girl’s eyes widened and she looked at Lola with a speculative light in her eyes.

Lola jumped at the chance to gain any ground with the kid. “In fact, your dad used to be my friend.”

“Friend.” His tone of voice made it clear to the adults in the room that what they had was much more than mere friendship.

Rosie tilted her head and stared at Lola as if trying to solve a puzzle. There was a wealth of intelligence and comprehension behind the look, which made it clear that the little girl also understood the message behind her father’s words.

Of course, Lola wouldn’t make any decisions until she had more information and had observed the little girl herself, but so far she wasn’t seeing much evidence of a learning disorder.

“Rosie, I hope it’s okay that I call you that too.” There was no response. Not that Lola expected one. “Mrs. Galván, Mrs. Fonseca, your dad, and I want to talk about how to make sure you have a great rest of the school year. I want you to know that I would love for you to be a part of our talk. It doesn’t seem nice to talk about you like you aren’t here and you don’t understand when I bet you do. But if you don’t want to, I completely understand that too. I added some new things to the room that you might like to check out.”

Rosie looked back to her dad for direction, but he didn’t tell her what to do. Instead he just said, “Whatever you want to do, mamita.”

After a moment, she let her dad’s hand go and went directly to the new calming area.

“Great,” Mrs. Fonseca said. “Why don’t we get started.” She motioned them both to the table.

This time Lola grabbed a large chair from the neighboring table and sat. She would not be forced to look up at the man the whole meeting.

She bit her lip as she watched Saint perch precariously on one of the tiny chairs at the table. His legs were spread wide as he planted his feet solidly on the ground and tried to prevent his knees from disappearing into his armpits. Lola almost offered to get him another large chair, but decided against it. Let him be at a disadvantage for once.

“Mr. Vega, I know you’re concerned about how this change will affect Rosie specifically,” Dolores began.

He nodded, but he didn’t take his eyes off Lola. She felt like a bug under a magnifying glass.

“I want to assure you that Rosie’s well-being is our priority.”

He spared the principal a brief glance. “You’ve told me that before,” he said. “Then your staff tried to have my daughter evaluated without my permission.” His gaze went back to Lola.

Mrs. Fonseca jumped in. “Saint, as the mother of a child who required special education services, I completely understand what you’re feeling right now.” It was clear to Lola that Mrs. Fonseca was using his nickname to remind him of the years he’d spent under her care in the same community center they were in now. It didn’t seem to have the effect she was hoping for—Saint remained as stern faced as before.

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Fonseca, but it’s not the same thing at all, because Rosie doesn’t require those services and Ms. Kirkland went behind my back after I expressly told her that I wasn’t in agreement with her suspicions. It’s hard to put my trust in what you say after that.”

“Well, as you know, I don’t do anything behind someone’s back,” Lola told him. “I will tell you what I think flat out.”

“And what do you think, Lola? Do you think I’m wrong for wanting to make sure my four-year-old isn’t labeled with a learning disorder I don’t think she has?”

“Of course not,” she said. “She’s your daughter and you know her best. I do just want to make it clear that the school cannot actually diagnose her with anything. An evaluation is to see if she qualifies for educational services under that label, but only a qualified medical professional can make a diagnosis.”

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