Catarina's Ring

by Lisa McGuinness

  “Which is what?”

  “I want to take a sledge hammer to something so I can start the demolition phase of construction. I’m dying to get going. All this waiting is killing me. And now, because of all the pastry sampling, I’ve gained several pounds and poor Dad is currently up to his eyeballs in sfogliatelle in case you want any.”

  “I love sfogliatelle. I don’t think I’ve had any since Nonna passed away.”

  “I think that’s why I started with that one. I was feeling a little nostalgic. When Nonna taught me to make it, it was the first time I thought about becoming a chef.”

  “I remember that,” she smiled. “If you want a partner in crime when it comes to wielding the sledgehammer, count me in. I could bring a bottle of champagne and make a toast while you smash through a wall or something.”

  “What, you don’t want to bust up a wall yourself?”

  “I don’t know if I could even lift a sledgehammer. I don’t want to completely embarrass myself.”

  “You wouldn’t have to be embarrassed in front of Ian. He’s not the type to make fun.”

  “You sound interested, Juliette.”

  “I’m not. He and I work together.”

  “You’ve gotten to know him pretty well by now? What’s he like?”

  “Really nice, actually. Smart, funny in an understated way. You know, the type of humor that people miss unless they’re paying attention.”

  Gina looked up from the ring she was working on.

  “It doesn’t matter anyway, because I’m all about business these days. Architecture and food, that’s me.”

  “Do you ever hear from Roman?”

  “He tried to keep in touch at first, but it hurt too much then and now I’m letting it go. That’s for the best, I think. Besides, it’s not like I’m ever going to see him again.”

  “I’m sorry that whole thing happened to you.”

  “I know. Me too. I guess misery is just part of the human condition, right?”

  “Unfortunately, yes. It sometimes is. But you know what Nonna would say, ‘If it’s raining, all you need for happiness is a colorful umbrella.’”

  “It’s so funny that you say that, because Saraya, Christine, and I were just reminiscing about another one she had: ‘If your garden has weeds . . . ” Juliette began.

  “Pull them up and plant flowers!” Gina finished. “She was full of them wasn’t she? So many old-school Italian sayings.”

  Juliette laughed. “I don’t know that they actually were Italian sayings. I think they were just stuff she made up that sounded more wise when she said them in Italian. But you know what? She lived it. She did find happiness no matter her life circumstances.”

  “That she did.”

  “Well, on that philosophical note, I have to get going.” Juliette kissed Gina’s cheek.

  “Don’t be a stranger. I’ll see you soon for the exciting demolition of your café.”

  “Out with the old, in with the new,” Juliette chimed in as she waved goodbye.

  When Juliette got home she again submersed herself in pastry dough. She wanted to create something unusual in order to keep people coming back. She remembered a certain pastry she loved to pick up on her way in to work when she was holding down her first job out of the Culinary Institute. She was working as an assistant to a chef at a long-established San Francisco restaurant. When she got off the train at Powell Street, she either bought herself (or had to talk herself out of buying, depending on what the scale had said that morning) a raspberry ring from the Coffee Roastery at the station. It was flaky perfection with an exquisite balance of breadiness and sweetness. The day the establishment closed was truly sad for her. But, the memory of those perfect pastries lingered. That’s what she wanted to create for someone else: the type of morning treat that kept them salivating all the way into work.

  The permit process had drifted longer than expected with one hang-up after another slowing things down. Finally the approval was stamped by not only the county office, but the fire chief, the city planner, and, as far as she could tell, every civil servant in the city who happened to have a stamp pad on his or her desk.

  When she told Ian about her sledgehammer fantasy, he laughed.

  “Sounds fantastic Juliette, but what do you plan to smash up exactly? The building is already gutted, so unless you want to break through the exterior wall to open up the patio, I’m afraid you’re out of luck.”

  “Shoot. How could I have not thought of that?” She looked around, trying to find something else to do, but nothing immediately presented itself. “Well, I’ll figure something out, but just so you know, I’m definitely going to be here to help out when I’m not brewing coffee at my day job. I love this type of stuff and I don’t want to miss out on anything.”

  “Duly noted,” he said, his eyes still twinkling. “I’ll put you to work. I promise.”

  The morning they were due to begin construction, Juliette parked her car in a reserved spot behind the building and lugged out the Capresso coffee maker she’d brought. She opened the back door and stepped through. The morning light streamed through the front windows and she felt as if she’d finally arrived home. The exposed brick walls were exactly what she’d wanted. The windows were still boring and functional, but she didn’t see them as they currently were. Instead, she visualized the black iron paned windows that would soon replace them.

  They were one of the biggest splurges in the design, but in her opinion windows were well worth it. They were the divas in the opera of architectural style, as far as she was concerned.

  She was back out to her car and wrestling a minifridge out of her trunk when Ian pulled up.

  “Hey there. Hold on and I’ll get that for you,” he said, hopping out of his truck.

  She happily handed it over and ran ahead to hold the door open. When he passed through she couldn’t help but admire what she saw. Christine always said that one should never underestimate the importance of a good pair of jeans, and Juliette realized how true that statement was when she saw how well Ian wore his.

  “Could you set that in the corner by the espresso maker over there? I’ll be right back,” she said. “I’m just going to grab one more thing out of my trunk.”

  She came back a couple of minutes later with a folding table tucked under one arm and a paper bag with handles in the other hand.

  “What’s all this?” Ian asked.

  “Well, we couldn’t exactly begin working on a restaurant without provisions, and if we’re going to have provisions, then we might as well enjoy the good stuff. So I brought my kick-ass espresso maker from home and a minifridge to keep snacks, and of course, a table to keep my espresso maker on, because this little gem can’t just languish on the dirty floor.” She lovingly patted the top of the machine.

  Juliette folded open the table legs and set it down.

  “Sounds great,” Ian said smiling at her. “If this wasn’t already my favorite project, it would be now.”

  Juliette chuckled then jumped—startled by a loud rap at the door—and looked up to see who was knocking.

  “There’s Mark,” Ian said, nodding to the front door. “Will you chuck me those keys so I can open the door for him?”

  “Sure,” Juliette said, throwing him the keys. “Mark’s your construction partner, right?” she asked. “The one you told me about?”

  “Yep, he’s great. I think you’ll get along well.”

  While Ian worked the lock, Juliette bent down to plug in the coffee maker.

  “Hey,” she heard what she guessed was Mark’s voice. “So, this is the hottie’s café. This is going to be a great job.”

  “Mark!” she heard Ian’s sharp voice and saw his nod towards her just as the plug was pushed in and she stood up.

  “Oh shit!” Mark laughed. “Sorry. I’m always putting my foot in my mouth. And for the record, let me say that ‘hottie’ was my word, not Ian’s.”

  Juliette laughed and walked over to shake his han
d. She could feel herself blushing.

  “No worries. He told me you were a hottie, too.” She joked. “I’m Juliette, by the way.”

  “Mark,” he responded, and stuck out his hand to shake hers.

  Ian gave Mark a little shove. “Good start. Thanks for that.”

  “Good news, I have snacks,” Juliette said, to steer them all away from the awkwardness. She reached into her bag and pulled out a basket of beignets she had made, and held them out.

  Mark helped himself to one.

  “Oh my God! What are these?” he said, still chewing with an expression of sheer ecstasy on his face.

  Ian looked at Juliette and said with a wry smile on his face. “You’ll have to excuse Mark. He’s like a golden retriever puppy. It’s still a mystery to us all as to how he found someone to marry him.”

  “It’s all about the charm, bro,” Mark said with his mouth still full. “You should try it some time.”

  Juliette laughed again. She immediately liked Mark. He was comfortable already and she liked the mischievous sparkle in his gray eyes.

  “They’re kind of something I invented.” Juliette said. “I started with traditional beignets, which are basically like triangular doughnuts with powdered sugar sprinkled on top, then I piped a bit of custard with orange zest and a bit of nutmeg in there, and went lighter on the powdered sugar. And voilá, ‘beignets Juliette’ as my friends like to call them.”

  “They’re amazing,” Ian agreed, finishing his in two big bites and then licking his fingers. “I can tell this is going to be a dangerous job.”

  “All right,” he clapped his hands once. “Let’s get to work!” he smiled. “It’s a great day for it. Our windows are going to be delivered later this afternoon, so let’s get these old ones out.”

  And just like that, they were under way. Juliette loved every minute of it. Over the next couple of months, they settled into a routine. Ian and Mark arrived early and got started. Juliette took the breakfast shift at work and when she arrived in the early afternoon, she got to see what they had accomplished since she’d been in last. Ian put her to work while she was there as he’d promised.

  The three of them got along famously. Mark was the jokester and Ian was the straight man with the wry sense of humor. It was obvious the two had been working together for years because their interactions were seamless.

  When Juliette was there, they sought her opinion constantly. How tall did she want the counter exactly? They would move her in front of the space and have her simulate chopping and then decide together on the perfect height. They had her pace off the kitchen to make sure she liked the number of steps between each appliance and then would shift things around accordingly. They even had her think about where she wanted the light switches, so she could get to them easily when she entered and left.

  Finally, after months of inside work, they broke through the side wall in order to open it up and incorporate the outside space. At last, Juliette got to live out the sledgehammer fantasy, although Gina wasn’t kidding; they were surprisingly heavy. Juliette was no weakling, but it took her several tries before she busted even a tiny hole through. At that point, she was happy to replace the hammer with a glass of champagne and let Ian and Mark finish the job. Watching them while she and Gina drank champagne was a treat. Ian wore a nice-fitting gray T-shirt that just said “BIKE” that she found particularly sexy for some reason. She was pleased to see that wielding the sledgehammer wasn’t that easy for the guys either.

  Sometimes Mark’s wife, Lexi, and their sweet, little three-year-old girl, Lulu, would pop in at the end of the day. The two women hit it off instantly and Lulu quickly learned exactly where the snacks were kept, and was welcome to dip into the refrigerator any time. Other times Juliette’s dad or Gina stopped by. Sometimes Christine and Saraya arrived to convince them all to dust off and head over to happy hour at their favorite sushi place.

  Juliette realized one evening that Mark, Lexi, and Ian had become incorporated into her circle as if they had always been a part of it. She loved that about her friends. They were always willing to welcome people in, enjoying getting to know them.

  But Juliette’s favorite times were when she and Ian ended up working late together by themselves.

  The late summer heat could be relentless during the day, but in the evening, with the windows and doors opened wide, the temperature cooled down to perfectly balmy. She wished she could freeze those moments of complete contentment.

  Sometimes they worked without talking much, just listening to music. Ian had built Juliette a makeshift worktable and bench out of scrap wood. She loved it so much that she threatened to keep it as her desk once the project was finished. She brought in a cushion to sit on and used her laptop to research vendors and suppliers while Ian cut trim and hammered it into place.

  She couldn’t help her mind from drifting towards him. She thought she felt an undercurrent of chemistry, but he always kept it warmly friendly and close, yet professional.

  She wasn’t excited about the idea of more romantic rejection anyway, so she decided to shove away any feelings that may have been seeping in.

  She forced herself to focus on the computer screen instead of thinking about Ian, but her curiosity suddenly got the better of her. “So, what’s your story, Ian?” she looked up from the computer screen. “Any loves? You never talk about anyone.”

  “Not at the present moment,” he answered offhandedly, and threw a scrap of trim he had just cut into a growing pile.

  “Huh,” she murmured, waiting for him to ask her, but instead he turned back to the saw and cut another piece of trim. The space seemed to get tighter and she was suddenly aware of herself.

  “Man, it’s so hot tonight,” she changed the subject. “I wish there was somewhere to go swimming.”

  “Seriously?” Ian stopped what he was doing and turned back toward her. “Because if you really want to go swimming, we could.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, I grew up near here—right at the base of Mt. Diablo. Anyway, I know this sounds like a throwback to high school, but my parents are on vacation, so I’ve been staying at their house to take care of their dogs. They have a pool . . .”

  “Count me in,” she said without hesitation, and closed the lid to her laptop.

  “It does sound pretty good about now. While we’re at it, we could even steal their beer.”

  Juliette laughed, “Let’s do it!” She sprang up from her seat and started closing up windows. Ian took off his tool belt, unplugged the power tools, and in minutes they were on their way out.

  The warm evening air outside felt thick. It was perfect night-swimming weather.

  “I’ll swing by and get my suit and then come over,” Juliette said, as Ian jotted the address on a scrap of paper and handed it to her.

  “Call me if you get lost.”

  Juliette climbed behind the wheel. What was she doing? she asked herself. Nothing, she answered. Just going for a swim. She told herself not to make this into anything. They had been working together for months now. They could go swimming. It was no big deal.

  So why did it feel like a big deal? Like they were crossing a line. What line? She rejected her own thoughts and told herself to relax.

  “Wow,” she said when he opened the door. “I didn’t know you were a local boy. And you grew up with land. This is amazing.” The house was a sprawling craftsman with a long porch and a three-car garage with a carriage house set off at an angle. Three dogs bound out to greet her—two large golden retrievers and a Welsh corgi.

  “Hello sweeties,” she greeted them with lots of petting, then looked up at Ian. “I love dogs. What are their names?”

  “This is Alice, this one’s Jessie,” he said, pointing to the two goldens respectively, “and this little minx is Lily,” he told her, pointing to the tricolored corgi who was wagging her nub of a tail with a big smile on her face.

  “Hello, hello,” she tried to keep herself from b
reaking out her doggie voice, but it was futile with three friendly dogs vying for attention.

  Ian led her inside. They went through a casual living room and into a large kitchen with crisp white stone counter tops and walls the color of dark chocolate. He handed her a Corona with a wedge of lime.

  She took a sip. “Heavenly, thanks. If I had a tail, I’d be wagging it about now myself.”

  “There’s a bathroom off the kitchen there,” he pointed, “where you can change into your swimsuit. I’ll meet you outside in a couple of minutes.”

  Ian took the stairs two at a time, and she headed to the bathroom.

  She had been forced to make a hasty decision: bikini or tankini, but she had decided on the former. She didn’t run a few times a week for nothing. But still, all that pastry testing had taken a slight toll.

  She heard a splash and walked through the French doors off the kitchen to join Ian.

  She dove in and swam back and forth a couple of times to cool down her core, then moved to the steps to sit.

  “This is great. I can’t believe you grew up here.”

  “Don’t be too impressed. We didn’t move here until I was in middle school. Before that we lived in a tiny house where we were always all on top of each other. I have two brothers and a sister, and there was only one bathroom for all of us kids. Needless to say, my sister, who’s the youngest, took charge of it as soon as she was big enough to close the door. It was crazy, but fun. My parents are both architects. Their dream was to build their own house, but it took them a long time to save up their pennies.”

  “Is that what made you become a contractor?”

  “Kind of. I actually went to architecture school, too. But when I was home during the summers, I worked for a contractor my dad knew, and I fell in love with building. I like working with my hands. I love bringing projects to completion.”

  “Kind of like cooking.”

  “I’ve never thought of it that way, but yes, it must be.”

  Ian pulled himself up and out of the pool, toweled off and lay down on one of the chaise lounges. He tilted his beer back and sighed.

  After a thoughtful pause he said, “Your project has been wonderful to work on. It’s really coming along.”