by Anita Hughes
Rosie shot Rachel a look, but Rachel was already nodding enthusiastically. “We’d love to, but I didn’t bring a bathing suit.”
“We got ours from the cabana.” Colby pointed to the tent beside the pool. “There’s a boys’ cabana and a girls’ cabana. The Pullmans stock everything: swimsuits, robes, slippers.”
“Really?” Rachel turned to Rosie for confirmation. “Let’s go, I’m dying to get wet.”
Rachel dragged Rosie into the cabana and threw open a chest of drawers.
“I don’t want to go swimming,” Rosie whispered.
Rachel held up a pink-and-green two-piece. “Oh my god, Colby is gorgeous. He’s my Seventeen fantasies come true.”
“You’re practically engaged to Patrick,” Rosie reminded her. “Remember Patrick’s lovely foreskin.”
“I don’t want to see Colby’s penis.” Rachel slipped out of her dress. “I just want to see him without a shirt. If I faint will you promise not to resuscitate me? I only want Colby’s lips touching mine.”
“I have to get back to my party,” Rosie protested.
“Please, Rosie. You’re talking to a girl from New Jersey,” Rachel pleaded. “I’ve never met anyone really famous. I’ll remember this night forever.”
“All right, I’ll go swimming,” Rosie gave in. “But only till Morris rings the dinner bell. I’m not missing Peg’s tortilla soup.”
Rosie found a black-and-white-striped two-piece with crocheted straps. She tied her hair in a ponytail and slipped on a pair of flip-flops.
“You look great in a bathing suit,” Rachel whistled. “Josh is a lucky man.”
“Josh isn’t here.” Rosie grimaced, remembering how curt he was at the fish taco shop.
“He wouldn’t miss your party.” Rachel tied the straps of her bikini. “He worked as hard on Rosie’s Fish Tacos as you did.”
“Josh and I got in a fight.” Rosie wavered. “I don’t know if he’s coming.”
“If he doesn’t come he’s going to miss a lot of great food and wine.” Rachel dragged Rosie out of the cabana. “Tell me honestly, should I suck in my stomach?”
“You’re beautiful. Your curves make you look like Venus de Milo.”
“You walk in front of me,” Rachel instructed. “So Colby sees your gorgeous legs.”
Colby lay on a chaise lounge by the pool. He wore blue board shorts and no shirt. Rachel gasped and Rosie tried not to giggle. Colby’s stomach was completely flat and his chest belonged in an Abercrombie & Fitch ad. Ryan lay next to him, dressed in patterned shorts and a yellow polo. His sunglasses were perched on his forehead and he wore loafers without socks.
“Ryan doesn’t like to get his hair wet.” Colby grinned. “I’m trying to convince him to go swimming.”
“The water is cold,” Ryan protested, and combed his hand through his hair.
“It’s perfect!” Colby jumped in, splashing water outside the pool.
“I’ll sit out too,” Rosie said. “My head throbs and I drank too much sangria.”
“I’m coming in.” Rachel jumped in the water. “The water is divine.”
Rosie sat next to Ryan and watched Colby and Rachel duck in and out of the water like sea lions.
“Sometimes I feel like I’m Colby’s keeper,” Ryan said. “Last night he jumped off the Santa Monica pier at midnight.”
“He’s very sweet.” Rosie smiled.
“He’s a fireball,” Ryan answered. “I’m only thirty-three, but when I’m around Colby I feel like an old man.”
“Do you mind that he gets all the attention?” Rosie wondered aloud.
“It’s my job to make sure he gets attention.” Ryan shook his head. “I’m not big on the spotlight. I like to work behind the scenes.”
“I was like that with Ben. I enjoyed being the silent partner while he got all the acclaim. It worked well,” Rosie mused. “Until Mary Beth offered him a bigger spotlight.”
“In my opinion Ben traded down,” Ryan replied gallantly. “Mary Beth Chase is an overinflated Barbie doll. Her breasts look like defense weapons.”
“Thanks,” Rosie giggled. “I’m not very good with men. I think I scared the guy I’m dating away.”
“Then he’s crazy.” Ryan turned to Rosie. “Colby whistled like a schoolboy when you appeared in that bikini.”
“Hey, you two!” Colby called from the pool. “Come join us. We want to play Marco Polo.”
“I better go in.” Ryan took off his shirt. “Colby will crack his head open and I’ll have to cancel his tour.”
“I’ll come too,” Rosie said. Suddenly the cool blue water looked inviting. Estelle was right. Tonight was her party and she wasn’t going to let Josh spoil it.
* * *
“Oh my god!” Rachel rested on the pool steps and clutched her neck. “I lost my necklace. Patrick gave me the locket. He’ll kill me.”
“I’ll find it.” Rosie pushed her wet hair behind her ears. “I’m good at holding my breath underwater.”
They had been swimming for almost an hour, giggling and splashing like children. They swam relay races and played a heated game of Marco Polo. Rachel refused to be “it” because she didn’t want to close her eyes and miss a second of Colby’s dreamy body.
Rosie dove underwater and found the necklace stuck in the drain. She tried carefully to dislodge it, conserving the air in her lungs. It wiggled free and she shot to the surface, bumping her head on the diving board. The pain hit her like a hammer. She gasped for air and struggled to the side of the pool.
“Are you all right?” Ryan crouched next to her. “You hit your head pretty hard.”
“I think so.” Rosie touched her head. Her vision was blurry and there was a bump swelling under her hair.
“Let me look at it.” Ryan guided her to a chaise lounge and helped her lie down. He leaned close and rubbed her head. “Does that hurt?”
“A little.” Rosie nodded, closing her eyes.
“Colby got a concussion once.” Ryan felt the bump. “Open your eyes and tell me how you feel.”
Rosie slowly opened her eyes. There was a man standing by the cabana. He wore navy slacks and his blond hair curled behind his ears. He was frowning and his mouth was set in a firm line. Rosie closed her eyes and when she opened them again he was gone.
Rosie jumped up unsteadily and stumbled to the lawn. She maneuvered through the tables, bumping into guests who were sitting down to dinner. She chased Josh to the driveway but he was walking too fast, and she slipped on the gravel. Her vision blurred and blood pooled on her knee. There was the sound of a car door closing and Josh’s car roared down the driveway. She tried to get up, but her knees gave out and she sank onto the pavement. Then she closed her eyes and fell back on the pebbles.
Eleven
Steam drifted up from the bath and Rosie stepped gingerly onto the marble floor. She wrapped herself in a fluffy yellow towel and studied herself in the mirror. Five days ago her injuries looked more gruesome, but she still had bruises on her knees and an egg-shaped bump on her head.
She patted herself with the towel and reached for a yellow terry-cloth robe. It hurt when she bent down and it hurt when she got up too fast. But she barely noticed the pain; all she could think about was that she hadn’t heard from Josh since the party.
* * *
“You look like you bought your Halloween costume early,” Morris said to Rosie after Josh drove away the night of the party.
Morris had carried Rosie to the master bathroom and run a hot bath. He washed her cuts and put an ice pack on her head. The bathtub filled with bubbles, and he brushed the gravel and dirt from her knees. Rosie submerged herself in the hot water and never wanted to get out.
“I opened my eyes and Josh was staring at me as if I was Hester Prynne in The Scarlet Letter,” Rosie moaned. “Then he turned around and left.”
“You hit your head on the diving board.” Morris bathed her elbow in disinfectant. “Ryan was making sure you were breathing.”
>
“I only went swimming because Rachel wanted to see Colby’s abs.” Rosie’s eyes filled with tears. “I shouldn’t have come to the party without Josh. I should have driven straight to his place after the store closed.”
“This was your night,” Morris insisted. “Josh should have brought a bouquet of roses and a box of chocolates.”
“Maybe he did.” Rosie flinched. “And he threw them in the trash when he saw me with Ryan.”
“Soak in the bath for a while,” Morris instructed. “When you’re cleaned up, we’re going to go down to the lawn and celebrate your opening. There’s a Mexican chocolate cream pie with your name in red frosting.”
Morris powdered Rosie’s face and selected a silver hostess gown that covered her ankles. He arranged her hair in an updo and applied green eye shadow and dark red lipstick.
“I can’t face anyone.” Rosie stared at herself in Estelle’s full-length mirror. The heavy makeup made her look like Cleopatra.
“I learned one thing being in the band.” Morris studied his handiwork. “Even when my heart was breaking, the show must go on. If you disappear all the goodwill you built up will dissolve like fairy dust.”
Rosie leaned on Morris’ arm, her head spinning like a Ferris wheel. Lights twinkled in the trees and the band played soft dinner music. Ryan and Colby were sitting with Oscar, and Estelle glided from table to table.
“Are you okay?” Ryan appeared at her side. “I thought you were going to faint and then you bolted.”
“Burst of adrenaline.” Rosie smiled. “Morris gave me a couple of Advils; I’m fine.”
“We were worried,” Ryan said. “Your friend Rachel keeps wringing her hands and moaning.”
“I’ll tell her I’m all right,” Rosie answered. “First I need something to eat.”
Morris put together two plates of tortillas and refried beans and steak. He went to the bar and poured two glasses of brandy. He placed the brandy under Rosie’s nose and ordered her to drink it.
“I’d like to make a toast.” Estelle stood up, tapping her fork on her glass. “It’s not often a new shop opens in Montecito, and it’s not often a bright young person leaves LA to settle in our town. Tonight we have both: Rosie’s Fish Tacos celebrates its grand opening and I hope with its success, Rosie Keller will call Montecito home. I have grown to love this young lady and I’m sure you will adore her fish tacos. She uses top-secret ingredients I’m not at liberty to divulge.” Estelle stopped and smiled. “Now I think Rosie would like to say something.”
Rosie shot a frantic look at Morris. She squinted under the bright light and took a deep breath.
“I want to thank everyone for coming,” she began. “And I especially want to thank Estelle and Oscar for their hospitality. When I came here this summer, I didn’t have a plan. Estelle showed me that you have to love what you do and throw the rule book out the window. I love Rosie’s Fish Tacos, and I love being in a place with such kind and generous people.”
“Tell us your secret ingredients,” a tall white-haired man called out.
“I can’t do that.” Rosie grinned. “You’ll have to come by and figure it out yourself.”
Rosie cut the first slice of cream pie and everyone clapped. Waiters passed around dessert plates and refilled sangria glasses. Rosie felt suddenly exhausted and dropped into her seat.
“You can stop smiling now,” Morris whispered.
“My face is frozen.” Rosie grimaced. “And the lights keep twinkling even when I shut my eyes.”
“Lean on me,” Morris instructed.
Rosie closed her eyes and leaned on Morris’ shoulder. Glasses clinked and the band played a lively tune. She wished Josh were here so they could dance and feed each other chocolate cream pie. Tears fell silently down her cheeks and she brushed them away, hoping no one else could see them.
* * *
Her phone was on the bedside table and she picked it up. She had punched in Josh’s number a dozen times, but each time she clicked end before he could answer. Josh had to trust her. She shouldn’t have to explain what happened at the pool.
On her desk was the basket of chocolate Rachel had dropped off with a sweet card. Morris came every evening for five nights and took away the chocolate wrappers and brought Rosie a bowl of soup and crackers. Rosie nibbled a saltine and gave the tray back to Morris, protesting she was too tired to eat.
She put in long hours at the store each day. She rang up sales, collected empty tortilla baskets, and handed customers sizzling bags of fish tacos. But her eyes were glued to the door. She hadn’t seen Josh at the beach in the early mornings; he wasn’t at the Pullmans’ garage. He seemed to have disappeared without a word.
At the end of each day, Rosie turned the sign to CLOSED and counted the money in the cash register. She surveyed the shiny counter and the gleaming stove and experienced a momentary rush of pleasure. The store had a steady stream of customers and her fish tacos were getting rave reviews. But when she drove back to the cottage, her excitement evaporated. All she wanted was for Josh to appear and wrap his arms around her.
* * *
“Rosie.” Morris opened the French doors of the cottage. “Here you are.”
“I don’t want any dinner.” Rosie sat against the headboard. “I had a fish taco at the store.”
“I didn’t bring dinner,” Morris answered. “Estelle would like you to eat with her and Oscar in the dining room.”
“I can’t go out, I’ve been on my feet all day,” Rosie groaned.
“You haven’t been in the main house since the party.” Morris straightened magazines and threw chocolate wrappers in the garbage. “Mrs. Pullman is worried about you.”
“Tell her I’m busy selling fish tacos,” Rosie urged.
“You tell her at dinner,” Morris said. “Peg made summer nut squash soup and roasted potatoes.”
“You’re not going to leave until I say yes.” Rosie sighed.
“I’ll help you get dressed.” Morris smiled and opened her closet.
* * *
Rosie entered the dining room and noticed the candles flickering on the table. The table was set with white-and-gold china, and there was a vase of irises on the sideboard. There was fresh baked bread and pots of whipped butter with chives. It all smelled so good, her stomach flipped over.
Morris had insisted she dress formally, so she wore a long cotton dress. Her hair was pulled back and she wore mascara and lipstick.
Rosie picked up a warm roll, breathing in chives and oregano. Suddenly she was starving, but she didn’t want to start without Estelle and Oscar. She put the roll on her plate and watched the door expectantly.
“Hi,” a male voice said behind her.
Rosie turned and Josh stood in the doorway. His eyes were a pale, watery blue and he clutched a bunch of roses.
“I’m having dinner with Estelle and Oscar,” Rosie said.
“Estelle and Oscar are at a gallery opening in Santa Barbara.” Josh entered the dining room.
“Morris said Estelle wanted me to join them for dinner.” Rosie frowned.
“I asked Morris to say that,” Josh confessed. “So you’d have dinner with me.”
“Oh,” Rosie gasped, and tried to think of something to say.
“These are for you.” He handed her the flowers. “They’re Estelle’s hybrid tea roses. This one is a Humphrey Bogart, and this is a Lauren Bacall.”
“They’re beautiful.” She inhaled the sweet scent.
“I may not know a lot about films, but I have seen Casablanca and Humphrey Bogart ended up without the girl.” Josh sat opposite Rosie. “I don’t want to lose you before we even got started.”
“I wasn’t going anywhere.” Rosie gulped.
“I behaved badly. I let jealousy eat me up.” He took her hand. “Instead of talking to you, I hibernated.”
“I told you there was nothing going on.” She remembered the pain of watching Josh walk away, of slipping and falling on the gravel.
&
nbsp; “Guys like Ryan and Colby have everything.” Josh toyed with the linen napkin. “They reminded me how little I have to offer you.”
“Colby is a kid,” Rosie said. “And Ryan is just a friend.”
“I don’t mean to interrupt.” Morris stood at the kitchen door. “But Peg insists I serve the soup.”
Josh looked at Rosie, his eyes sparkling. “Will you have dinner with me?”
Rosie nodded and picked up a warm roll. “I’m starving!”
* * *
They ate summer nut squash soup with chunks of homemade bread. There were petit filets mignons and seasoned roasted potatoes. They both cleaned their plates, laughing at how hungry they were, fighting over the last roll.
“I haven’t eaten much this week,” Rosie admitted after Morris cleared away their plates. “I love making fish tacos. But if I eat another piece of cod, I’ll grow gills.”
“I’ve been working on the MG night and day.” He wiped his mouth with his napkin. “I barely ate two pieces of pizza yesterday.”
“I’m glad you came tonight,” she said softly. The chandelier lights twinkled on the wineglasses, and she felt warm and happy.
“I should have come sooner.” Josh picked up Rosie’s hand and turned it over. “I had a bad feeling when I saw Colby and Ryan at the store. Their lives are concerts and parties and being friends with people like Beyoncé. I was afraid you’d talk to them and miss Hollywood.”
“I love owning my own store, and I love Montecito,” Rosie reminded him.
Josh ran his fingers over Rosie’s palm. “Then when I saw you and Ryan at the pool, I thought you and he were together.”
“I would never do that,” she insisted.
“Ryan is so slick: the shades, the fancy clothes, the leather shoes. He’s the kind of guy who gets whatever he wants,” Josh said tightly. “Every day I was going to call you, but I just couldn’t do it. I was afraid you’d already moved on.”
Rosie studied Josh in the flickering candlelight. He looked like Rodin’s sculpture The Thinker: tortured and brooding.
“I keep wondering if you’re going to run away. You think that I miss the bright lights of Hollywood,” Rosie said tentatively. “What if we’re both wrong, what if we need to trust each other?”