Holiday Home Run - Priscilla Oliveras Page 0,3

at this year’s event will benefit the Humboldt Park Youth Center, which serves a large Hispanic community, the entertainment will feature the kids giving a pseudo rendition of a parranda or a posada,” Julia told him, her Spanish accent hugging the words.

“I hate to admit that I had never heard of a parranda before,” Jeff Louis said. The middle-aged bank executive had removed his suit jacket and now leaned back in the black leather chair, his expression earnest. “Despite the number of Hispanic kids and families we serve. Makes me realize I have a lot more to learn.”

That’s what Ben liked about working with this committee and the Chicago Youth Association’s auxiliary board in general. They were comprised of individuals who were committed to their mission statement and the children.

“Now a posada, yes,” Jeff continued, smoothing a hand down his tie. “I’m familiar with that Mexican tradition. People caroling from house to house like a parranda, but with statues of Mary and Joseph. Like they’re seeking shelter. I think introducing the cultural aspects, both the Puerto Rican caroling with the parranda and the Mexican posada, will enrich the event.”

“Exactly.” Laura Taylor gave a firm nod. “Having the kids as the singers is a beautiful touch. We’ve never featured the youth in the past and they’re the reason why we’re here. Why we do what we do, right?”

Hands clasped on the slick black tabletop, the older woman looked around at each of the members present. Answering nods of agreement along with a murmured, “Damn straight,” from Dan Roberts, a local builder, met her perusal.

With her blond hair smoothed back in a tight bun low on her head, Laura looked the epitome of the high society matron often featured in the local pages of the paper. Straight-laced, savvy, and dedicated to the charities she worked hard to assist.

Ben had met her during his rookie season with the Cubs when he’d volunteered for a youth baseball clinic. Now, eight years later, he was still involved with helping out Chicago youth.

Actually, thanks to Laura’s uncanny ability to lure a person into her world of volunteerism and civic duty, he’d kept his head above water—barely—the past few years of injury, surgery, rehab, and ultimately, early retirement.

Between his work with the youth centers and his burgeoning sports-casting career, he was putting one foot in front of the other. Not dwelling on the what ifs, should haves, and if onlys. Most days, anyway.

“When I first met Julia at a family gathering over Labor Day weekend and heard about her background in event planning in Puerto Rico, I mentioned the upcoming soiree,” Laura said, drawing Ben’s attention to the beautiful woman seated across from him.

The bright, mid-November, late afternoon sun shone through the picture windows behind Julia, creating a halo of light around her dark hair. In a short-sleeved ivory sweater dress, a delicate gold necklace with an intricate cross hanging to her midchest, she was almost like a holiday angel here to guide their efforts with her creativity and vision.

“By the end of the evening, I knew she’d be the perfect addition to our committee,” Laura said. She reached out to place her hand over Julia’s and gave her an endearing, almost maternal smile. “I think we all agree that’s been the case.”

Julia’s tanned complexion darkened with the hint of a blush at Laura’s praise and the answering “You got that right!” and “Most definitely!” heard around the table.

“Gracias,” she murmured.

Ben liked that she accepted the praise rather than brushing it off. She knew her worth and didn’t shy away from accepting the compliment.

She mouthed a thank-you to several others in the group, but when her gaze fell on him he could have sworn the smile in her eyes dimmed. Before he could be sure, she moved on to wink at the young intern who’d yet to say a complete sentence to him. Poor kid.

During their short break earlier, he’d done his best to ease her sports star awe, asking about her major, classes, and expected graduation date. Typical icebreakers among college students. So far, no dice.

Give her another meeting or two, the run-through for the event at the very latest, and she’d see he was a regular guy. One who happened to throw a ball pretty fast, occasionally with a mean curve that brushed a batter back off home plate. At least, he used to, anyway.

“I’m heading to the youth center for a choir rehearsal tonight. It’s only our third, but we’ve had a decent response