Catarina's Ring

by Lisa McGuinness

  It was Sunday, she reminded herself, and she wasn’t sure whether the listing agents were available to answer questions. She often saw “open house” signs around the neighborhood on Sundays, but she had no idea whether commercial real estate agents worked that day as well. She could hardly believe it was only Sunday. Had she really been in Italy just one long day ago?

  Her cell phone chirped. She picked it up and looked at the text.

  It was from Roman, and said: “Buying mozzarella and thinking of you.”

  She sighed and turned the phone over on her bed. Why would he do that? Didn’t he understand how hurt she is? Besides, it was a lie anyway. He wouldn’t be buying cheese at nine thirty at night, so why send some funny, sweet text?

  “Argh!” she grunted, resolved not to respond, and then climbed out of bed.

  She wanted to forget about him, no matter how hard it was, and get on with her day. The thought of getting dressed, doing her hair, and putting on make up seemed overwhelming, but she wouldn’t allow herself to have a pity party, as her mom used to call it.

  She had presents for several of her friends and wanted to catch up with everyone, so she sent out a group text inviting her friends to meet her for cosmos and appetizers. She was looking forward to eating food that wasn’t Italian in any way. Then she spent the day catching up on mail, bills, grocery shopping, and laundry. All the things that make the world go round.

  Juliette hadn’t been in a supermarket in months and was slightly overwhelmed by the size and selection. It seemed a bit over the top, compared to the outdoor market and tiny grocery stores she’d frequented in Lucca. She chose a bunch of things she’d been missing while she was away, including some of her guilty pleasures: Nathan’s hotdogs, buns, and sauerkraut, as well as slice-and-bake cookies, which she hid in her cart under a loaf of organic bread while furtively looking around.

  After she loaded the groceries into her trunk, Juliette decided to take a quick walk downtown before she went home.

  It was good to be back, and the April day was gorgeous. The sun was shining and the tree-lined streets were filled with shoppers and late lunchers. She had missed it. In the evening, she knew the trees would be lit up and looking cheerful with white twinkle lights. She strolled by one of the fountains and watched some kids running around the edge, tossing in pennies to make wishes. She headed up Locust Street then cut over to walk back down Main. Her plan was to go around one more block to Broadway, but she stopped short when she saw that one of her favorite buildings was vacant. It was one of the few original brick buildings in town. It had housed a little clothing boutique before she left, but was now empty. She looked for a “for rent” sign, or any sign at all, but didn’t see any indication that it was available. Her heart drummed in her chest. This was exactly the type of space she had envisioned, but surely it was too good to be true.

  She reminded herself that she hadn’t even decided in which town she wanted to open her café, but this space was too promising not to be considered.

  Her mind spinning, she remembered something her mom used to say: Success is about luck and timing as well as hard work.

  Juliette realized that if this building were available, it would not only be perfect luck but impeccable timing as well. She looked again for any sign with contact information, but came up empty, so she decided to go to city hall first thing in the morning to inquire. She was sure they would at least know where to direct her.

  She hardly remembered walking back to her car or going home and unloading her groceries. She could practically feel the synapses in her brain firing as it worked through the possibilities.

  Juliette felt an incredible sense of anticipation all evening. Over drinks and appetizers, she told her friends about Italy, Roman, and the vacant building she saw downtown. She was surprised to realize that of the three topics, she was the most excited to talk about the third.

  On Monday morning, Juliette was outside city hall at nine a.m. waiting for the doors to open. She decided to start at the city planning office and was happy to discover that they did have ownership information available for all the retail buildings in town. From her coat pocket, she pulled the rumpled piece of paper on which she’d hastily scrawled the address, and handed it to the man behind the desk.

  “Oh, I know exactly which building that is,” he said, and punched the address into his computer. “I think it needs a lot of work, though,” he added and raised one eyebrow at her as if to appraise her ability to handle the task.

  He tore a piece of paper off of his scratch pad, wrote the contact information for the owner, and handed it to Juliette.

  “Good luck,” he said and then turned dismissively and called up the next person waiting.

  She didn’t want to wait to get home to make the call, so she sat outside on a bench and dialed the number. She took a deep breath to calm herself. She knew the search was just beginning, but couldn’t stop being hopeful anyway. After a brief conversation with the owner, she learned that the building was indeed available, but that it truly did need considerable work. She made an appointment to look at it anyway and then scrolled through her contacts until she located the one for Ian Matthews.

  Juliette arrived at the coffee house early because she wanted to be there before Ian. She grabbed a table by the door and was stirring sweetener into her latte, wondering whether she would recognize him, when he walked through the door.

  When her father had originally told her about the fantastic contractor he’d found to help with the structural changes they were making to the house, he had said nothing about a hunky, but kind of lanky, young, handsome contractor. She had expected a paint-stained, jeans-wearing, paunchy, middle-aged contractor. But Ian Matthews was definitely the former.

  She hadn’t been able to conjure his face in her mind, but as soon as he walked in she knew it was Ian. This time she registered his appearance in a way she hadn’t been able to process when she met him on the day of her mom’s accident.

  Juliette stood up and came around the table with her hand out stretched.

  “Hi,” she said by way of introduction.

  He took her hand, but instead of shaking it he gently leaned towards her and kissed her cheek in a warm, familiar manner.

  “It’s good to see you looking so well,” Ian said.

  “Thanks for meeting me.” Juliette, surprised but not put off by the familiar gesture.

  “I’m glad you called,” he said, then nodded to the counter. “I’ll be right back,” he smiled and headed towards the register.

  “What’s your coffee of choice?” she asked when he got back, coffee in hand.

  “Triple shot Americano,” he said and took a sip. “Ah . . . that’s good.”

  She liked the unapologetic contentment on his face. Something about him put her immediately at ease.

  Once they were settled in, Juliette said, “I’ve been wanting to say thank you for sitting with me at the hospital. I was so out of it, I don’t think I remembered to tell you how helpful it was to have you there.”

  “You actually said thank you several times.”

  “I did?”

  “You did. I think you were in shock, and so inside yourself you were hardly aware of what was going on.”

  “Do you mind telling me what happened from your perspective? I keep reliving the accident itself and then . . . I don’t know . . . it’s weird. The memories are crisp and yet illusive. Like I see some details under a microscope but can’t seem to see others at all,” Juliette said.

  “Sure,” Ian paused for a moment, recalling the sequence of events. “I was with your dad at his house when you called him,” he began. “I could tell something terrible had happened from his voice and then he frantically started looking for his keys. He was in no shape to drive, so I just grabbed my keys, said ‘Let’s go,’ and we jumped in my truck. He told me about the accident on the way to the hospital. I stayed with him to make sure he could find the room, and when we opened the door we saw you there
with your mom and I knew I needed to stay.”

  “I think I was in a daze. It was like my brain stalled because none of what had happened was in my version of a possible reality. We were on our way to get coffee together. She wanted to talk to me about something,” Juliette closed her eyes for a second. “But the car came out of nowhere and then I was sitting with her body in a hospital room and . . .” Juliette still couldn’t say the words.

  “You were holding her hand and you looked completely lost. I wasn’t sure what to do, but your dad was so overwhelmed he couldn’t help you, so I came in and led you into the hallway so your dad could be with your mom and talk to the doctor. I didn’t do anything, really, but find a couple of chairs and sit with you.”

  “I remember you held my hand.”

  Ian smiled.

  “It helped.”

  “I’m glad. I wish I could have done more.”

  “I could feel you trying to give me your strength. That sounds weird, but I could feel it.”

  Ian watched her. She was as lovely as he had remembered.

  “Your dad told me you went to Italy to recuperate.”

  He and Alexander had spent numerous hours together in recent months, renovating this and replacing that. Ian’s theory was that Juliette’s dad was trying to keep himself busy so he didn’t have to dwell on the new version of his life, and as far as Ian was concerned, if he could help with that, then so much the better.

  Alexander was definitely a talker and his favorite subjects were work and his daughters. Ian didn’t think Juliette would necessarily be pleased to know that her father had told him about her trip to Italy, cooking school, and even her broken heart, so he just asked the question to see where it would lead.

  “I did go to Italy. I had to get away. I’d been alternately trying to convince my dad, sister, and friends that I was all right, and secretly cooking compulsively. Hours and hours at a time. I couldn’t stop. I made so much hand-rolled gnocchi I started to bring batches of it to the homeless guys who live down in the creek. They found me very confusing.”

  “I bet they did.”

  “And then one night when I couldn’t sleep, I started to read the first in a bunch of letters my mom had given me. I was supposed to read them before she and I took a trip to Italy together, because they were a correspondence between my Italian grandmother and one of her friends from Italy. Anyway, that night, I opened the box, saw the letters and plane ticket, and I suddenly knew I needed to go.”

  Ian was engrossed. He put his elbows on the table and leaned closer, curious to hear what came next. Juliette noticed his eyes had the beginnings of smile lines that would grow deeper as he aged. He was looking at her—really looking at her as if he were trying to memorize her face.

  “Why’s that?” he asked.

  “The day of the accident, Mom had a heart-to-heart with me about the fact that I should quit my dead-end job and refocus my life. I knew she was right, so I finally did it. I quit my job the next day, signed up for a cooking class in Lucca, and then fled with the shoebox full of Nonna’s letters. I’m not usually that impulsive.”

  “Desperate times call for desperate measures, right?”

  “I came to terms with a lot of things while I was there, which leads me to the second reason I asked you to coffee,” Juliette said, and then filled him in on her plans and the space she’d found downtown. “I’m hoping I can lure you into being my contractor if this pans out.”

  “I’m guessing,” Ian said, “it wouldn’t be too hard to say yes.”

  Two days later Juliette peered into the building, checking her watch each time she moved from one window to another. She was scheduled to meet the owner in five minutes and she was hoping Ian would get there on time to meet with them. He told her he had a city planning meeting first, but promised to come as soon as possible. She looked up and down the street again, and then spied him hurrying towards her. He was wearing a suit with no tie and was even more handsome than she remembered, in a casual businessman sort of way. He was very different from Roman, she noticed. Where Roman was a crisply dressed Italian metrosexual, Ian had a casual, loose-limbed sort of home-grown sexiness to him.

  “Am I late?” he asked.

  “No,” she said.

  He stood next to her and peered into the window.

  “I was wondering what would eventually go in here.” He smiled and raised his eyebrows conspiratorially as if to say, “Now, I know,” then continued, “When the owner gets here, let’s just have you visualize the space out loud and we can talk about what your ideal set up would be. I’ll take some notes and draw some sketches, and then we can meet again once I’ve given some thought to what we’d be looking at. Does that sound workable?”

  “That sounds perfect,” she said. She liked his sense of confidence and ease.

  When the owner arrived, she unlocked the door for them and went inside. Ian held the door open for Juliette.

  “After you,” he said, as if they were already in this together. “Let’s have a look.”

  Chapter 19

  CATARINA, A WEDDING, PAINFUL-BUT-BEAUTIFUL SHOES, AND SNEAKING AWAY TO MAKE LOVE

  The bells rang in the large Catholic church that was decidedly different from the small, stone chapel she was used to at home. Franco had described the stained-glass windows perfectly. With the sun shining through them, the guests were bathed in color. The doors opened and after Franco took Catarina’s arm, the newly married couple walked back up the aisle, smiling at the clapping, whistling guests, and stepped out into the sunshine. It felt strange to be married without her family and friends in attendance. But, much of her life was so different now, that she was getting used to her new circumstances.

  The weeks since they had arrived in San Francisco had been a whirlwind, filled with preparation. Moving to a home filled with virtual strangers had only been the beginning. She’d hardly had time alone with Franco since they had stepped off the train.

  Instead of talking to her future husband, the time had been spent getting to know her mother-in-law and Gabriella while they cooked, chose flowers, and prepared for the wedding.

  As far as Catarina could tell, the Brunelli family had invited every Italian in San Francisco as well as many of the customers and neighbors they’d become friendly with over the years. The marriage ceremony would be in front of a huge crowd. She knew the party after the ceremony was going to be large and boisterous. Franco’s parents, Vittorio and Isabella, rented out a large restaurant in the north end of town. The family had been up at daybreak, decorating the church and restaurant with flowers and streamers, so both looked especially festive.

  At home, weddings were simple affairs. Here, the weddings were more elaborate as far as she could tell.

  When the moment came, she was terrified and yet strangely calm. She was aware of herself walking, on the arm of Carlo, to meet Franco at the front of the church. And was aware of her voice repeating her vows as the priest led her through the ceremony in an odd, somewhat detached way. She pushed herself to stay present. She looked into Franco’s eyes and made her promises before God. But even while doing so, she had to push away a flashing memory of Gregorio and the look on his face when she told him she couldn’t run away with him.

  She tried not to think about how she would feel if he were marrying someone else today. She made herself smile at Franco and when the time came, met his lips for their first kiss. And then it was done. The crowd clapped and their applause brought her back into herself. She smiled at her new husband and said a silent prayer to God asking for Him to help her be a good and loving wife.

  Catarina looked back at the church as guests emerged while she and Franco waited on the steps for everyone to follow behind them. And then, en masse, the festive group walked to the restaurant to celebrate, with the bride and groom leading the way. As they walked down the street, well-wishers called out to them and waved from windows. Catarina and Franco smiled and waved back, laughing at the unusual feeling of being the ce
nter of attention.

  The experience continued to feel somewhat unreal to Catarina, as she walked in the beautiful, beaded shoes her new mother-in-law had insisted she buy in honor of the occasion. She was wearing the same long-sleeved, ivory dress her sisters had worn to their weddings. But she and her mother had painstakingly altered it to fit before she left home. It stopped just above her feet, which made Catarina happy because it would have been a shame for her shoes to be hidden. They had repaired a tiny tear in the dress’s lace and added stitches in a swirling pattern along the waist to accentuate Catarina’s lean form.

  The scene was different than Catarina had imagined while she and her mother had sat working on the dress. The city where she now lived was larger, noisier, and colder than she thought it would be. The people were more gregarious than people at home. Everyone had been incredibly kind, especially those who had moved from Italy themselves, rather than the children of those immigrants, who had only heard stories of the old country. They had no idea what it had been like to uproot and move halfway across the world.

  Catarina could tell her feet were going to be in pain by the end of the day. A blister had already formed on the back of her heel as they walked, but it was worth it, because never in her life had she owned shoes that were so elegant.

  As they neared the restaurant, the San Francisco Bay shimmered in the distance. The September day was breezy but lovely and Catarina knew it could have been perfect if only her family were there to celebrate with her. She knew they were thinking of her, though. She could almost see them sitting at the dinner table, talking about her while they ate. She wondered what sassy comment Mateo would have to say about it. She smiled wistfully at the thought. Dio, she missed her brother.

  As they approached the door, she could hear music playing and several men rushed ahead, linking their arms to form an arch for the newlyweds to pass under on their way in. Everyone cheered as they entered.

  Catarina’s new parents-in-law came in behind them, and as the rest of the guests approached the restaurant, they cheered again.