Before they could even get comfortable, a waiter set down a basket of tortilla chips and poured a bowl of salsa, then disappeared. As Max dipped into the tortillas, Nick looked around. Abbey followed his gaze, seeing the restaurant through new eyes. The walls were stucco-style, with a warm yellow finish, Mexican paintings with bright reds, blues, and greens dotting their surface. Potted palm trees sat at the corners, their trunks covered in multi-colored Christmas lights, the light from the traditional Mexican lanterns matching them almost perfectly. The table was decoupage, with postcards from Mexican beaches. The whole place was just lovely.
A few moments later Alma stopped by their table and slid across two enormous frozen margaritas, the rim salted heavily with large rock salt, and floating in the center was a paper umbrella and a plastic snowman figurine. “On the house,” she said with another wink. “Merry Christmas.”
“Aw, thank you!” Abbey said feeling affectionate toward her friend. It was a very nice gesture.
Another man came up behind her and set down a small kids’ drink for Max. It, too, was frozen but pink in color, and it had a snowman wearing sunglasses hugging a rainbow-colored straw. “Feliz Navidad,” he said with a smile that showed all his bright white teeth.
“Merry Christmas,” Abbey returned to both of them with an appreciative nod.
“Have you ever had a margarita?” she asked Nick as he studied the menu.
“I’ve never had one like this one before,” he said with a smile.
“It’s really good, but if you drink it all, you may be calling Richard to come get us. Be careful. It’s potent.”
“I’m not sure what to get,” Nick said honestly as he looked over the menu.
“The tacos are so good, Nick,” Max said as he colored his kid menu with the little pot of crayons the restaurant had supplied next to the salt, pepper, and habanero hot sauce. “Alma makes deeeeelicious tacos.”
Abbey giggled at her son. “Alma doesn’t make them all. She has cooks who do it,” she said.
“Well she makes them at our house and they’re yummy!”
“I’ll have to tell her that,” Abbey said. She looked over her menu at Nick. “All the recipes here were passed down from Alma’s mother and grandmother. She makes amazing pork tamales. But Max is right. She makes wonderful tacos too.”
“It’s settled then,” Nick said as he closed his menu. “If Max says the tacos are the best, then I’ll have to try them.”
“Looks like we’re all getting tacos,” Abbey said.
“Try the salsa,” Max said, scooting the small molcajete-style bowl in Nick’s direction.
Nick pinched a tortilla from the basket and dipped it in, scooping a large pile of salsa onto his chip. He took a bite, having to hold his napkin over his mouth to keep the salsa from dripping into his lap.
“It’s a little messy sometimes, but it’s good!” Max said.
“It is good,” Nick said.
A man that Abbey recognized as Alma’s brother, Carlos, came to take their order. Abbey ordered for everyone. Just as they were left alone again, the mariachi band started in the far corner. It was a large group all holding instruments: eight violins, two trumpets, what Alma told her once was a guitarrón, and a guitar. The music was loud, fast, and Abbey could feel the excitement of the notes bouncing through her chest. She sipped her margarita, the alcohol warming her cheeks while her fingertips stayed cold from the ice. Nick turned toward the band. They all looked so sharp in their black suits with silver accents, red scarves, and sombreros. It was a departure from Nick’s classical piano, but their skill was evident immediately.
Men in white shirts and sombreros entered the small dance floor where the mariachi was playing followed by women in brightly colored, big, flowing skirts, the hems made of lace. The women grabbed the men’s hands and began to spin around, their skirts fanning out along the dance floor, revealing their black, heeled shoes.
Nick’s eyes still on the dancers, he grabbed his drink off the table and took a sip, his eyebrows rising in surprise.
“Do you like it?” Abbey asked over the music.
“It’s amazing,” he said, still not making eye contact.
The women flipped the hems of their dresses to the music while leaning toward their male counterparts. Max was sipping his drink, tortilla crumbs on the table in front of him as he jiggled to the beat of the music. Then, Abbey saw Nick’s eyes widen as the dancers began to pull people onto the dance floor. Since they were waiting for their food, she knew that it was a possibility they’d be chosen, but she also knew Alma well, and she would probably have interpreted Abbey’s earlier “Awesome” comment, when she’d mentioned the band, and told the dancers to choose Abbey’s table.