Chapter 32
BOUQUETS OF FLOWERS AND HIDING BEHIND NEWSPAPERS
“He’s killing me,” Juliette told her sister. “It’s been, what, three weeks of post-cooking-class talks, one spontaneous sushi meal, and several late-night texts, but no actual moves.”
“Maybe he’s giving you space.”
“Maybe, but here’s the thing. I’m kind of terrified to say this, but I think he’s everything I’ve been looking for. You know?”
Gina dragged a small table over to her couch, sat down with her cup of tea, and took a good, long look at her sister.
“Nothing that’s going to gradually wear you down?” she asked. “No annoying habits?”
“No, that’s the thing. He’s great. Funny, smart, nice . . . God, so nice. He’s good through and through.”
“Handsome,” Gina chimed in. “By the way, does he have a brother?”
“Yes,” Juliette smiled mischievously. “As a matter of fact, he does.”
“Hmmm.”
“I want him to love me in spite of all of my flaws. I want him not to mind all the random stuff that’s hard to love.”
“Well, of course I know what I think is unlovable about you, but what do you think are things that might give a man pause?” Gina nudged her sister playfully.
“Let’s see, having to be in the same family as you, for one thing.” She gave Gina a wry smile, then continued, “Really, though, stuff like the fact that I like boring, comfortable underwear, and that I look like a wreck when I wake up.”
“Don’t forget that you sleep with your mouth open and drool.”
“Thanks for that, and yes, that’s exactly what I mean. Also, I talk too much and often too loudly. Why can’t I just shut up?”
“We’ve been asking ourselves that for years,” Gina laughed and rolled her eyes.
“It’s just so strange. I haven’t even kissed this guy but I keep seeing the future. But then I get scared. After all, not that long ago, I thought Roman was the perfect man for me. And look how that turned out.”
“Yeah, I get that.” Gina smiled. “But I think sometimes we love people differently. And even though you loved Roman, it doesn’t mean you can’t love Ian too.”
“I see what you’re saying. It’s just unexpected.”
“Seriously Juliette, I wouldn’t worry. Because if there’s one thing in the world you are most definitely not, it’s impetuous. Remember, this is said by the woman who knows you best—including how long you mulled over opening a restaurant and of course, how long you insisted on staying in Girl Scouts when we all knew you had kind of hated it from the time you were in second grade.”
“That’s true, Girl Scouts was a drag,” Juliette admitted.
“My point is that I wouldn’t worry about whether it’s too soon or anything else. Just go with it,” Gina told her.
“It’ll be ok, right?” asked Juliette.
“Exactly. Plant some flowers.”
Juliette was mulling over a plan of action about how to break through the barrier with Ian while reading the newspaper on Saturday morning. She was sitting in one of her favorite breakfast joints, Café Dora, enjoying eggs, when the man himself breezed in with a beautiful woman. She had blond, silky hair the color of hay and eyes as green as his own. She wore loose, faded jeans and a perfectly white, long-sleeved T-shirt that Juliette envied. Her jeans were hanging off of her slim hips in an equally enviable way.
After a quick intake of breath, Juliette instinctively held up the paper so she was hidden. She felt heartbroken. If this was one of his morning-after women then she was definitely not up to his standards.
She wasn’t sure whether to fold the paper down and nonchalantly wave as if she didn’t have a care in the world, or stay crouched awkwardly at her table behind the New York Times Style section.
She peeked out and saw him grab the mystery woman by the back of her neck and playfully shake her while they stood at the counter and ordered. The blond shook her head and smiled at him in a way that spoke volumes about how comfortable they were with each other. This didn’t seem like some awkward post-hook-up breakfast—but why would he not tell her if he was seeing someone?
As Juliette gagged down the bite that had been in her mouth since they came in, she heard Ian say, “To go, please,” so she knew she would be put out of her misery soon and decided to take the coward’s way out and stay hidden.
The door chimed as they left. Juliette lowered the paper and with a trembling hand she picked up her coffee cup and took a sip.
Over the next few days, she didn’t say a word to anyone about seeing Ian and his beautiful whatever. But she couldn’t get the vision of them out of her mind. Did she have to be so pretty? He had looked happy and at ease.
Juliette felt blindsided. Why hadn’t he ever said anything about her? It’s not like they hadn’t talked about their love lives.
And what about the chemistry between the two of them? And why was he texting her and coming around all the time? Was this a Roman situation all over again? She wondered whether she was losing her ability to judge people.
She was dying of embarrassment. She wondered if she had given away her feelings. Did he feel kind of sorry for her? Had he been too gentlemanly to say anything? She wondered if that’s why he hadn’t brought the mystery woman up.
She was tormented and wished more than anything he wouldn’t come to cooking class that week. It would help to have a little break from him so she could face seeing him with an insouciant, “we’re just old friends” attitude. She sighed, took a deep breath, and wished for the thousandth time that she did yoga. Then she could be all namaste about it. Instead she went home, put on her running shoes, and headed for the trail.
She spent the rest of the weekend depressed, and devoured not only the better part of a chocolate cake but two trashy romance novels to boot. And when Monday rolled around she wasn’t feeling much better. She managed to get herself out of bed and threw her hair into a messy bun, drank an espresso instead of going for a morning run and then dragged herself to work feeling bloated.
Juliette was grumpy, confused, and holed up in her office when her barista poked her head around her office door with a huge bouquet of deep burgundy peonies.
“Look who got flowers!” she raised her eyebrows at Juliette. “Have you been keeping secrets from us?”
Juliette looked up from her computer. “Are you sure those are for me? I don’t know anyone who would be sending flowers to me these days.”
“The note says ‘Juliette’, all right.” She said handing over the little envelope. “Here, let’s see who they’re from.”
Juliette looked at her name on the white square, which confirmed that they were indeed for her. She tore it open and involuntarily sucked in her breath in surprise.
“You look shocked. Who is it?” She peered at the note in Juliette’s hand and read it out loud: “Juliette, I need to talk to you. Please call me. Who’s Roman?” she asked.
“An old boyfriend.”
“Great name. Sounds sexy,” she raised her eyebrows at her with a twinkle in her eye.
“He is that,” Juliette admitted. “But I have no idea why he would be sending flowers to me now.”
“Maybe he misses you and wants to get back together.”
“Highly unlikely. He lives in Italy and has a girlfriend,” she looked up at her and then tossed the note onto her desk.
“Are you going to call him?”
“I don’t know. I guess I will. It’s weird.”
“Well, not to make generalizations, but guys are weird. They are a complete mystery to me. I can never figure them out.”
“I hear you,” Juliette commiserated, thinking about Ian and the woman he was with in addition to Roman’s sudden gesture. “I have absolutely no idea what goes on in their minds.”
One thing she did know, though, was that she didn’t want to talk to Roman while she was at work, but with the nine-hour time difference she didn’t want t
o wait too long either.
She stayed busy ordering food and checking invoices for a while, but curiosity got the better of her, so after the lunch rush she decided to leave her crew to hold down the fort while she popped home to give him a call.
Phone clutched in her hand, Juliette paced the living room for a few minutes wondering if this could be some sort of divine timing. Just when it seemed that nothing was going to happen with Ian, Roman was getting back in touch. Would she even want him back at this point? And what would it mean? She stopped at the window and looked out at the crimson fall leaves clinging to the tree branches in front of her cottage. She realized she was jumping to huge conclusions based on a few flowers. Still, she couldn’t help but read into the gesture. She wouldn’t know until she talked to him, though, so she closed her eyes, inhaled deeply and dialed.
“Pronto?” Roman picked up immediately. “Juliette?”
“Si, sono io.”
“Ciao. Grazie per aver chiamato,” Roman said. Her heart was pounding and her palms were sweating just hearing his voice.
“You’re welcome. Thank you for the beautiful flowers. They’re gorgeous.”
“Avevo bisogno di sentire la tua voce.”
“Perché? Why do you need to hear my voice?
“Because, Juliette, I miss you. I think I made a terrible mistake.”
“Cosa stai dicendo?” she asked, completely confused. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying I miss you. Do you miss me? Would you ever consider coming back?”
“I don’t understand. It’s been so many months. Why now? And what about your girlfriend?”
“I don’t know, Juliette,” he sighed. “It’s never been the same with her since I met you. I keep comparing the two of you and missing you.”
Juliette closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against the cool windowpane. She couldn’t believe this was happening. She had longed to hear those words for weeks when she returned home and then finally gave up hope. Her heart was pounding and she felt light-headed and confused.
“Even if I wanted to, Roman, I don’t see how we could make it work now. I just opened my restaurant here. You have your own cooking school there.”
“Just think about it. Per favore.”
“but . . .”
“Don’t say anything now. Don’t make any decisions. Just think about it and I’ll call you in a couple of days.”
“Listen, Roman, I don’t . . .”
He cut her off again, “Promise me you’ll think about it. I miss your beautiful face, your laughter, you were good for me.”
“I promise I’ll think about it, but for now let’s just catch up. What have you been up to?” Juliette asked.
“What I’ve been up to is the same as always. Teaching, sometimes working at the restaurant in Florence, going to the market, wondering about you.”
Juliette could visualize Lucca. It was the fall again, close to when she first arrived.
“I can imagine the chestnut trees,” she said, “and the market. Have you seen Odessa and Antonello lately?”
“I see Odessa often, but she’s decidedly cooler to me than before you two became friends.”
Juliette chuckled at that, pleased by her friend’s loyalty.
“I miss her. And Antonello. Do you see him?”
“Only once in a while. Sometimes hanging around the cheese stall with Odessa, but that’s it.”
“And how’s class? Any new recipes you want to share?”
“Stop trying to change the subject. I want to talk about us, not recipes.”
Juliette sat down on the side of her bed. Confusion swept over her. She could visualize Roman but Ian kept intruding in her mind. The way his eyes crinkled around the edges when he smiled and the way he took her hand when they were walking around the tide pools in Pacific Grove. But she also had a film reel of him and the blond from the café running through her mind. She sighed.
“I don’t know what to say, Roman. You broke my heart, you lied to me, and then you let me go.”
“I know and I’m so sorry. Mi dispiace. If I could go back in time and do it differently I would, but all I can do now is try to mend my mistake, no?”
“That’s one of the frustrating things about life, isn’t it? We can only go forward and I have worked so hard to go forward without you. I loved you even when you didn’t love me. But I don’t know now.”
“I’ll make it up to you. Can I come visit? If I could see you I could convince you. I made a mistake, Juliette. You have to forgive me. I miss you.”
Juliette knew it would be so easy to allow herself to get swept back up with him, but she had to be realistic. She was in California. He was in Lucca. They both had businesses, but she also knew it wasn’t just that. No matter what was happening between Ian and the other woman, she had fallen for him.
“Life is so complicated,” she said. And then a thought occurred to her and she had to ask. “I have one question.”
“Anything, bella. What do you want to know?” Roman said.
“Have you and Maddelena broken up or is she just away on assignment again?”
“I . . . ah . . . ,” he hesitated. “She is away, but that’s not why now. I’ve been thinking about you. About us.”
“Davvero? Really?” Juliette’s heart was pounding, “And how long ago did she leave?”
“Two weeks, but I swear, it’s not what you’re thinking. I promise you, and now you have to promise me. You’ll think about it?”
“I’ll think about it,” Juliette said, but the answer to her question about Maddelena told her everything she needed to know.
“Ti amo, Juliette.”
“Ciao, Roman,” Juliette answered and then put her head in her hands.
Ti amo? Now ti amo after all the time she had hoped and dreamed he would tell her he loved her before? Especially when she was already a wreck about Ian and the blond. She threw herself onto the couch. “Why now?” she asked herself. But the answer to the later question was painfully obvious to her. Of course now, because Maddelena had left again. And then it suddenly occurred to her. Yes, Roman was handsome, witty, and loveable, but utterly unable to be alone.
After so many years of dating but not falling in love with anyone, she felt raw and exposed having loved two very different men in a row.
She looked at the clock and sighed. She should get back to work, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to get off the couch. She spied the shoebox of letters, which had been all but abandoned since the opening of Gusto. There was only one letter left unread. It was from someone whose name she didn’t recognize.
“Humm,” Juliette looked it over. The postmark was from New York, dated 1918—the same year the correspondence abruptly stopped. It was from Maria’s sister-in-law, bearing tragic news. Catarina’s confidant and friend had died in the influenza epidemic and she was returning the letters Maria had saved to her dear friend.
“No!” Juliette cried out, feeling like she too had lost a friend. “Poor Nonna.” She rubbed her fingers gently across the written page. She imagined the tiny smears in the ink were a result of Catarina’s tears.
Sometimes life is too hard, Juliette sighed, thinking of Roman and Ian both. But she knew what Catarina would say to that. Plant flowers, plant flowers, she said to herself, then got up off the couch and went back to work.
Juliette was careful to keep her tone light and upbeat when cooking class rolled around that week. She hadn’t yet called Roman back because she couldn’t bring herself to have the conversation she knew she needed to have.
For now, in class she tried to be upbeat, popping into the small groups she’d formed to demonstrate the best way to cut an onion or to show her students the fabulous whisk she loved that seemed to add air to eggs more quickly than standard wire whisks.
She met Ian’s eye once or twice and gave him a brief smile. Aside from that she didn’t seek him out. Once everyone was gone he collected the large metal bowls while she put away the b
aking sheets, but for the first time ever she had nothing to say.
“How was your weekend?” Ian broke the silence.
“Good, good,” she replied, determined to keep it light.
“Have you been busy? I texted you a couple of times the last couple of days, but you never replied.”
“Sorry, yeah, it’s been a crazy week. And I didn’t want to intrude.”
“Why would you be intruding? I’m the one who was texting you.”
“That’s true,” she smiled. “But . . . well, here’s the thing. I happened to see you out with a woman on Saturday morning, so I know you’re seeing someone and I didn’t want to be, you know,” she stammered, “someone you feel you have to text to be nice.”
Ian stopped collecting bowls and just looked at her.
“Is that really what you think?”
“I don’t know. I never seem to know what to think. Is this something new? Whenever I ask you about your love life, you’re always vague.”
“Would it bother you if I was seeing someone?” he asked.
“Well, I mean, I would be happy for you, of course,” she tried to muster a fake smile.
She took a deep breath and leaned against the stainless steel countertop. She pinched the skin on her finger where the ring used to be, wishing it was there to urge her on. She knew Catarina would suggest she go for it.
“But, yes, to be honest,” she looked up at him with searching eyes. “Yes, it would bother me.”
Ian walked over to her and took her face in his hands. “I’m so glad to hear that, because I’m crazy about you, Juliette. The woman you saw me with is my sister. I think I’ve mentioned her before, haven’t I? Well, her schmuck of a boyfriend broke up with her so she flew home from Seattle for the weekend so she could take some time away and regroup.”
“Your sister?”
“My sister. And I’m afraid I was hardly any help to her because all weekend she had to listen to me talk about you. And how to . . .”
That’s as far as he got before their lips met.
“I can’t believe it was your sister. You have no idea what I’ve been going through.”
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