Nearly sputtering to herself like a crazy person, Lila went up to the bar and got herself an ice water. Deliberately not looking over into the corner, she felt like she was back in middle school but she didn’t want to catch Jake’s eye and provoke yet another confrontation.
“Ready to get out of here?” Annie looped her arm around Lila’s shoulder. “Pete wants to quit while he’s ahead.” Agreeing with relief, Lila said a quick goodbye to Zoe and followed Annie and Pete out of the bar. On the way home the parents laughed and chatted in the front seats. Lila felt like their sulky teenager riding in their back next to Charlotte’s Cheerio-covered carseat. Looking out the window, she wished she had her iPod.
“What’s goin’ on back there, Lila?” Pete called into the backseat. “You not impressed with my skills?”
“Oh, no,” Lila dismissed him. “It’s not—“
“She got into it with Jake Endicott at the bar,” Annie explained.
“Yeah?” Pete asked, looking back at Lila. “What’s up?”
“Nothing,” Annie replied for her, “he was just giving her a hard time. But you gave it right back, didn’t you, Lila?” Annie asked, glancing at her in the rearview mirror. “Daddy’s little rich boy,” she repeated.
Feeling sheepish more than proud, Lila smiled wanly. She hadn’t realized Annie had heard that part of their exchange.
“Say what?” Pete asked.
“That’s what Lila called him,” Annie laughed. “Daddy’s little rich boy.”
“Ouch,” Pete shook his head. “That’s harsh.”
“Right?” Annie asked, pleased with it all.
“You know his dad wasn’t even on the scene until he grew up, right?” Pete asked, turning his head back to look at Lila. “When he was a kid it was just him, his brother and his mom. They lived a couple streets down from us.”
“But I thought he grew up at the vineyard?” Lila envisioned the Italianate villa, the expansive grounds, sunlight filtering through the tall, Tuscan pines. She’d pictured him as a child riding his pony through the vineyard to survey the migrant workers, then returning home to beat the nanny with a stick.
“Just his dad,” Pete corrected. “He lived with his mom. She was a hippie. Never had good snacks at his house.”
“That’s a shame,” Annie commiserated.
“She had these tahini bars.” Pete paused and from the back seat Lila could picture the face he was making. “Anyway, I don’t know the full story, but I know he lived near us till high school. Then his mom got sick and his dad sent him off to school back East. And that’s pretty much the last any of us heard of him.”
Pulling up in front of Lila’s apartment, Annie announced, “Your stop, Madame. Thanks for the mojitos earlier, they were killer.” Lila nodded, full of questions and confusion but, more than anything, full of the desire to wash her face, pull on her sweats and climb in under her glorious down comforter for a good night’s sleep.
* * *
The next day, Lila stopped by the chocolate shop after her shift at the bookstore. Set to work at the chopping block with some walnuts, she began her line of questioning. “So, Pete and Jake lived a couple of blocks away from each other when they were kids?”
“Yeah, I guess.” Annie stood on the top of a stepstool, re-arranging things on a shelf against the wall.
“Until he got sent away? I remember Jake told me he’d gone to boarding school. But it happened when his mom got sick?”
“What’s in this thing?” Annie swore as she moved a large tin. Lila looked up at her expectantly. Family history, former friend of her husband’s, handsome guy: this was rich material. Annie and she had passed more than a few hours over the past decade discussing far less engaging topics. Annie shifted some metal bowls from one end of the shelf to the other in silence.
“Pete said she had cancer,” Lila tried.
With a sigh, Annie stepped down the stool to the floor. “Yeah,” she agreed. “Pete doesn’t remember much about it. You know guys.” She shrugged. “But he thought he remembered Jake’s mom died of breast cancer. When Jake was about 14.”
“That’s really awful.” A high school classmate of Lila’s had lost her mom to breast cancer; Lila could still remember going to the funeral. Nothing seemed to remain of the sunny, peppy girl she’d known through gymnastics when they were little. In her place had stood a fierce, angry teenager, dry-eyed behind her glasses as if daring anyone to tell her she should feel sad. Lila hadn’t known what to say.
Apparently, though, she’d found her tongue between then and now. ‘Daddy’s little rich boy,’ she remembered she’d called Jake last night. Nice. And classy.
“Yeah, it’s awful,” Annie agreed. “Jake’s mom died and his dad sent him off to school so he didn’t have to deal with him. The only reason he didn’t send Oliver away was because he was only 10.” Seeing Lila’s sympathetic face, Annie held up her hand and continued, “But just because he and his brother had some trauma growing up doesn’t mean it’s OK for them to walk around here like they own the place. Some of these ‘vintners’—” Annie infused the word with pomposity—“seem to have forgotten they’re nothing more than farmers. Just because people pay insane amounts of money for what they grow doesn’t make them better than us.”
Lila recalled Oliver’s starched white, collar up, Lord of the Manor bearing. And last night Annie had reminded her how much of a hard time he’d been giving Pete, changing his mind all the time on house renovations. “Do you think Jake is as bad as his brother?”
Annie shrugged. “I haven’t seen much of him. But rumor has it Big Bob wants him to take over the whole operation. So he’s probably worse.”
“Is Oliver still being a huge jerk to Pete?”
“He fired Pete a couple of weeks ago. Replaced him with some contractor from Napa who charges three times as much.”
Lila winced. “I’m sorry. That sucks.” Annie shrugged but said nothing, which communicated clearly how much it bothered her. “How are Pete’s other projects going?”
The question let loose a stream of concern and Annie vented for the next half hour about the vicissitudes of the project-dependent contracting business. Some months Pete had more than he could handle, others too much time on his hands. Shelving her own concerns, Lila chopped and listened alongside her friend, struck by the magnitude of Annie’s worries. Mortgage payments, childcare schedules, the risk—if all went well with the coffee shop—of both she and Pete being self-employed. Struck for a moment with the insignificance of her own worries, Lila offered her friend reassurance. Annie’s talents and competencies were so formidable Lila never doubted them for a moment.
Later that day back in her apartment, Lila’s thoughts returned once again to last night’s exchange with Jake. She had crazy written all over her? Memories returned unbidden. Kicking her stiletto heel into the forehead of a valued client. Screaming about the need for a tarp over the cobblestone courtyard. Trying to break into her car with a credit card while shoving red licorice into her mouth. Wearing furry ears and developing the split personality of a sassy cat. Was this the stuff of sanity?
Gram’s weekly Sunday call, as it had frequently done in the past, helped her avoid a self-loathing tail spin.
“You’re figuring everything out, dear,” her Gram reassured her. “Just try to remember, no one’s got it all figured out.”
The observation prompted more guilt over her harsh words to Jake. “Just apologize the next time you see him,” Gram counseled. “I’m sure he won’t even remember what you said.”
Just a few days later she did see Jake again, at the town’s Fourth of July parade. A hodge podge affair, the celebration provided a vehicle for preschoolers in wagons, cheerleaders on flatbed trucks, local politicians in antiques and, yes, Shriners in mini cars, to wave and throw candy to spectators along the one-mile circumference of Redwood Cove’s downtown. Truth be told, the preschoolers more ate candy then they threw, but a good time was had by all.
A local
antique car collector let Marion take one out for the event. She, Lila and Mr. Meows waved to the crowd from a white 1956 Cadillac Eldorado convertible with Cover to Cover: Your Bookstore emblazoned on a draped banner. At the last minute, Charlotte decided she wanted to ride, too, so they’d buckled in her car seat, strapped on her sun hat and brought her along for the ride. ‘Cantaloupe, cantaloupe, watermelon’, Lila remembered Zoe’s instructions on proper parade waving, moving her hand in the air as if gliding along the surface of the fruits. Apparently Zoe had grown up in Palm Beach and her mother had entered her in not just a few child pageants. What a surprise Zoe had moved all the way to Redwood Cove as an adult.
Cover to Cover’s car was one of the first in the parade to go, affording them both the early excitement of spectators and the ability to get out and watch the second half of the parade, themselves. Toward the end, Lila spotted Jake driving a pick-up truck. Ashen and clenching his jaw, Jake puttered five miles an hour with Redwood Cove’s hottest middle school band in tow.
The lead guitar player was clearly the star of the show, wailing out the classic lick from Purple Haze. After the recognizable chords, however, the noise that came out of the band could only be described as the screeching cacophony of hell demons punishing the wicked. Over and over the scrawny preteens proudly churned out a mash of feedback and yowls blasted through not two, not four but eight giant speakers wired around the circumference of the flatbed truck.
Every now and then the assault was punctuated by moments of recognizable sound. Onlookers, plugging their ears and grimacing, would pause, hesitantly, wondering whether it was safe to listen. Was that Purple Haze on lead guitar? Then it would start again and mothers would have to cover the ears of their small, frightened children; Lila saw one crying.
Deep in the belly of the beast, Lila watched Jake grip the wheel. Knuckles white, he still managed the occasional wave out to the crowd and the flicker of a smile. How had he gotten trapped into driving the truck that featured the public massacre of Jimi Hendrix? She never got a chance to ask; by the time the parade ended she had to get Charlotte back home for her nap. Any questions or apologies would have to wait.
* * *
Gazing out the front window of the shop, Lila enjoyed the sunlight glinting off of the ocean waves. She’d traveled 3,000 miles, but it still felt like home whenever she looked out at the surf. And in a few weeks she’d get to show it all to her Gram.
It had taken months of prep work talking through the details, plus Lila actually purchasing the tickets, but it was official: Gram was coming for a visit. She’d sent Lila a check to reimburse her for the ticket—which Lila hadn’t cashed—and insisted she didn’t want to inconvenience her in the slightest—though Lila planned to clear out half her closet and drawers so Gram could settle into her bedroom while she slept on the futon. A 74-year-old on a fixed retirement income, Gram didn’t travel often. It would be her first time coming West in the nearly six years since Lila had moved to California. It was also the first time Lila had felt like she had a home to come visit.
“Why don’t you take your lunch break,” Marion said as she approached the counter. Nodding, Lila started toward the stock room to grab her straw market basket—peaches were in season and tonight she wanted to add them to her salad—but then she paused. She didn’t want to be too pushy, but she and Annie had given Marion their big pitch, followed up by their written business plan, last week.
Clearing her throat, she began, “Marion, I’m wondering, have you had a chance—”
“Yes, Lila,” Marion answered, “I have read it through. And you two have done a nice job.” Lila brightened at the praise, wondering if Marion could actually hear her heart pounding in her chest. “It’s a big decision, though,” Marion continued. “I need some time to mull this over, discuss it with Joyce. It’s a risk, Lila.”
“Yes, but it could really take off,” Lila responded in a rush. “Have you looked through the market analysis, how all the other coastal towns like Redwood Cove—Carmel and Monterey and Half Moon Bay—they all have thriving independent bookstores. And coffee shops. And we wouldn’t be starting from scratch, we’d be building off the success we’re already having—”
“Lila,” Marion put her hand up, her voice gaining a slight note of annoyance, “I’m not going to be rushed into this.”
“I know,” Lila apologized, “I’m sorry, it’s just that the storefront won’t be vacant forever and when an opportunity comes along like this it feels like we should take it.” She didn’t quite know where this surge of sales pitch was rising from within her, but she was going with it.
“It’s a good idea,” Marion admitted. “I wouldn’t be considering it if it weren’t. But even if I do decide to invest, it’s going to take time to move to move some money around.”
Lila broke into a smile. “You’re thinking of moving your money around?” She had enough experience with Marion to know that contemplating the logistics of the sale was a highly positive sign.
With a sigh, Marion gave a slight smile back. “I know you girls are excited. And I’m feeling somewhat excited myself.”
“It would be so fun!” Lila exclaimed, adding, “And a really smart business investment.”
“But I’m in a different time of my life than you two,” Marion continued. “I’m thinking about retirement in ten years. I’m worrying about what would happen if Joyce or I got sick. We’d need reserves.” She shook her head. “But I do like the idea,” she added.
“Maybe we could all have dinner and talk it over?” Lila suggested, on impulse. “I could have you and Annie over my place. Maybe Joyce would like to join, too?”
“All right.” Marion nodded. “Let me see what next week looks like and I’ll get back to you.”
“Great.” Lila responded, trying to sound measured and grown up instead of like an overly excited puppy. “My schedule’s open, so…” Telling herself to wrap it up instead of jumping up and down, she walked nonchalantly toward the stock room, just another entrepreneur taking another meeting.
Stepping outside, she closed her eyes for a moment, turning her face skyward to bask in the sunshine. Knowing that with her pale complexion she should really have on a big hat and 50 SPF all over her shoulders, bare due to her sundress, she told herself she was just making up for the vitamin D deficiency everyone supposedly had. Not that she was suffering for outdoors time these days, but she still had to make up for those five years in the city when even outside she’d either been enveloped in fog or shadowed by skyscrapers.
Peaches purchased, Lila wove her way along the Main Street cobblestones back to the bookstore, smiling at the European feel Redwood Cove adopted in the summer sunshine. Each restaurant had set up tables and chairs outdoors under bright umbrellas where patrons now sipped lemon-accented iced teas and enjoyed artisan wood-fired pizzas. Lila made a mental note to the bookstore café concept: outdoor seating. They had to get in on this when weather permitted.
Lila spotted a figure seated outside three stores down. Long legs stretched out, ankles crossed, Jake looked like the poster boy for relaxed Redwood Cove living as he took a sip of wine. Cursing the sunlight for playing just so in his chestnut curls, she took a deep, steadying breath. Grasping her basket of peaches more firmly, she told herself that she was the light and sophisticated Sophie out for a stroll on the streets of Paris. The kind of girl who’d effortlessly graze by a gorgeous man leaving him with a smile and, if the moment presented itself, a gracious yet brief apology.
Jake looked up as she approached and, for a moment, that version of reality seemed to be working. They met each other’s gaze. Each began a slow smile.
Then Jake’s lunch companion turned her blonde, helmet-haired head, revealing herself to be Vanessa and the cobblestone sidewalk lurched up to take a small yet dramatic bite out of Lila’s knee. Peaches upended and sprawled at Jake and Vanessa’s feet, Lila quickly tried to right herself from her spill.
“Are you all right?” Jake asked, bend
ing down and offering his hand to help her stand.
“Absolutely!” Lila exclaimed far too jauntily. Her knee flashed bright red with a scrape.
“You’re bleeding.” Pulling over an empty chair, Jake offered it to Lila. “Why don’t you sit down.”
“Oh no,” Lila laughed incongruously at nothing, picking up the peaches. One had fallen square into Vanessa’s lap. She now held it in her grasp with a cool air of disbelief. Giving another laugh like the loud bark of a seal, Lila took it from her.
“I know you,” Vanessa said, scrutinizing her through her Dior shades. “You work in the shop with Annie.”
“Bookstore, actually,” Lila corrected brightly, testing out putting weight on her right leg. It hurt, but it was nothing total mortification couldn’t overcome in propelling her the remaining 300 feet to the bookstore. “Well, I’ll be off then!” Lila realized in mounting panic that she’d just spoken in a British accent.
“You sure you’re OK?” Jake asked, looking confused.
“Never better!” Lila declared over her shoulder with Mary Poppins élan. Thrilled to reach those large wood and glass doors, she pulled one open and disappeared into the safe haven of the bookstore. Happily, she still had ten minutes of her lunch break to try to find a band-aid. Also, she needed the time to create an alternate version of reality in which she hadn’t just taken a nose dive in front of Jake Endicott and launched a peach directly into his bitchy girlfriend’s lap.
CHAPTER 8: Show me Show me Show me how you do that trick
Seated at what had become her favorite table at Ted’s, Lila sipped her beer and wondered at the depth and breadth of the bragging going on across from her. Trucker Tom was, apparently, King of the Road. He liked to prove it with off road illegal drag racing. He also liked to talk about it in excruciating detail. Unfortunately for Lila, he had multiple methods in which he asserted his dominance.
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