The moment I saw my father, my vision blurred. My throat tightened, and I couldn’t hold back the tears.
“Dad…”
He walked straight to me, gently helping me off the ground. His face was etched with heartache.
“Come on. We’re going to the Ortega estate.”
Only then did I realize he hadn’t trusted anyone else to handle my birthday banquet. He and my mom had already arranged everything themselves, planning a grand and joyful celebration at the Ortega residence.
With just one phone call, he informed all our friends and relatives of the new location. The celebration wouldn’t stop; it would simply continue somewhere better.
I looked at him, dazed. “Dad, did Uncle Ben and Aunt Martha come back to the States?”
As a child, the family we’d been closest to was the Ortega family. Their warmth had once felt like an extension of our own.
Uncle Ben had been my dad’s sworn brother, and Aunt Martha was my mom’s closest friend. I had grown up side by side with their daughter, Dixie Ortega, and we were childhood sweethearts.
But in recent years, they had been tied up with business overseas and had settled abroad. It had been years since we last met.