“Then I look forward to meeting him.”
“Ay, mi hijo would love to—”
“Hey, Julia!”
“Wow!”
“Check this joint out!”
The chorus of greetings and exclamations of awe as the kids pushed through the glass doors interrupted whatever Julia’s mom had been about to say. The kids poured into the building on a rush of energy.
“Paula, why don’t we check our coats and move into the VIP area.” Laura Taylor, classically fashionable as always in a dark green, floor length gown with long sleeves and a short turtleneck, signaled for the attendant to approach. “I’m sure Julia and Ben have last minute preparations before happy hour begins in thirty minutes. My husband Sherman should be joining us shortly.”
“Can I help you with something, nena?” Paula unbuttoned a hugely oversized coat that swamped her body.
“No, it’s okay, Mami. Go enjoy yourself, we’ll talk later. It’s . . .” Julia’s voice trailed off as the kids swarmed around her, the younger ones clamoring for her attention. “It’s good to see you.”
She hugged her mom one more time, then turned to quiet the group.
While Julia was peppered with questions, Ben caught Laura’s eye. The prominent socialite flashed him a sly thumbs-up.
Last week, when he and Julia had attended an exhibition at the National Museum of Puerto Rican Arts and Culture, the nostalgia in her voice when she talked about her family back home had planted the seed of an idea in Ben’s head.
Later, over coffee and dessert at one of his favorite restaurants, she’d mentioned her desire for her parents to see how she’d taken the lessons learned working with her family’s catering business and applied those skills to her work on the fund-raiser.
The seed of the idea to fly Paula Fernandez in for tonight’s event had blossomed. Ben privately mentioned it to Laura, more to bounce the idea off her than intending for her to take the ball and run with it.
But run she did.
After checking with her daughter-in-law Rosa for help reaching Julia’s mother, Laura had overseen all the flight reservations and logistics. The only snag in the plan had been Lilí not being able to pick up Paula at the airport.
Unflappable as always, Laura had called an audible and opted to pick up Paula herself.
The two older women moved deeper into the hall, so Ben followed Julia and the kids to the private room that had been prepared for them to warm up. Diego, the Chicago policeman who would accompany them on the guitar, and Señor Pérez, the keyboardist, were already there having arrived earlier to help with the sound check.
As he reached the group, Ben noticed the worried glance Julia sent her mother’s way. Her lower lip caught between her teeth.
Unease marched like angry army ants across the back of his neck. Maybe he hadn’t been mistaken earlier.
For some reason, Julia didn’t appear exactly thrilled by Paula’s appearance. If so, no telling what she’d say when she found out the visit had been his idea.
Before Ben’s dread about his surprise potentially blowing up in his face could morph into something bigger, Bernardo sidled up to him.
The boy’s crooked smile, the delighted way he smoothed down the front of his dress shirt and tie, lightened Ben’s mood. Reminding him of the reason they were all here tonight. Another common goal he and Julia shared: helping these kids.
“This place is pretty padre, huh?” Bernardo craned his neck, gawking at the intricate scrollwork carved into the tall ceiling, then gazing out at the ornate decorations blanketing the hall.
Ben grinned back at him. “Yeah, it does look pretty cool. Julia and the team have done an incredible job. And having you kids performing is going to make it that much cooler.”
Bernardo beamed with excitement.
“Okay, everyone, silencio, por favor!” Julia called out when everyone was seated in the rehearsal room. She waited until the chatter had quieted before continuing. “I know we went over this earlier this week, but I’d like to review the program. Make sure everyone remembers when they should join in the singing from their table, then start slowly making their way to the stage.”
Ben stayed off to the side, quietly admiring her ease with the large group of visibly anxious students. Even Rico, their fearless leader, thrummed his fingers on his knee, his expression serious, nodding in agreement as Julia went through their plan.
During the happy hour, the kids would wait here, warming up with the musicians. About forty-five minutes in, they would head to assigned dinner tables where they’d join attendees for the meal and dessert. The idea was for donors to get a chance to meet and interact with some of the kids. See firsthand the individuals they were helping.
After dinner, Ben would head back to the stage, only to be “interrupted” by Rico tapping out a beat on the plenera stashed under his chair. At a nearby table another student would break out a güiro, heightening Héctor’s hand drum beat. At that same table, a girl would join in with a set of pal-itos, adding further to the beat by knocking the two wooden rhythm sticks together.
A nod from Rico was the signal for the musicians to start the first verse of the carol and move toward two other tables nearby. The students seated there would rise, join the carolers, and continue heading toward the stage, picking up the others as they passed each table.
It wasn’t quite a true parranda, where carolers went from house to house, stopping to sing and eat, before heading on to the next house. Traditionally the revelry would continue through the night going from one house to another, the group growing in size until the sun came up.
Tonight, the kids would wind up on the stage where they’d sing a set of songs in English and Spanish. For the finale, attendees would be encouraged to join in a bilingual version of “Silent Night” with the help of lyrics printed on the back of each program to facilitate participation.
“Does anyone have any questions before I
