California Summer

by Anita Hughes

  Rosie jumped. Josh’s arms swung at his sides and his eyes glinted in the dark.

  “I felt sick,” Rosie said. “I’m a little better.”

  “Why didn’t you want to go to Angelica’s wedding?” Josh loomed over her. “Are you ashamed of me? You don’t think I can mingle with film stars and movie producers. I know all the capitals of Europe; I speak a little French. I’ve even been on a plane.” Josh glowered. “Not a private jet, but I can buckle a seat belt without spilling my drink.”

  “That has nothing to do with it.” Rosie had never seen Josh so angry.

  “You didn’t tell your best friend we were together! Were you afraid she wouldn’t approve?” he demanded. “I’m not good enough because I don’t drive an Aston Martin or live in a beach house on the sand.”

  “You don’t like Angelica,” Rosie reminded him. “You’ve said that a dozen times.”

  “We’ve had our differences,” Josh conceded. “But she’s your best friend. I would never miss her wedding.”

  “That’s not why I didn’t want to go,” she said quietly.

  “Ryan wasn’t embarrassed to hang out with me. We even found we had things in common. Are you afraid to run into Ben and Mary Beth?” he prodded. “Are you still in love with him? Do you miss going to movie premieres and seeing your name on the screen?”

  “I never think about Ben or Hollywood.” Rosie flushed. “I love our lives. I love the fish taco store and Butterfly Beach and Montecito village.”

  “Then what is it, Rosie?” Josh demanded, his eyes glinting in the dark. “Why didn’t you want to be Angelica’s maid of honor?”

  “I thought you wouldn’t want to go,” Rosie said lamely.

  She couldn’t tell Josh the truth. She couldn’t tell him she didn’t want to just share a bed and matching cereal bowls. She wanted to stand up in a church and exchange vows that would tie them together forever. He’d think she was jealous of Angelica’s large diamond, of the storybook wedding in Monte Carlo.

  “Couples make sacrifices for each other,” Josh persisted. “You didn’t even ask me if I wanted to go. You hurt Angelica’s feelings and offended Estelle and Oscar.”

  “I said I was happy for her.” Rosie gulped and her eyes filled with tears. “It was just all so sudden. Angelica put me on the spot and I didn’t know how to answer.”

  “Maybe you don’t know how you feel about us,” Josh said quietly. “Maybe we’re moving too fast.”

  “What does that mean?” She looked up. “Our relationship has nothing to do with Angelica’s wedding.”

  “It does if you don’t want to be seen with me.” He jammed his hands in his pockets.

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about. I only want to be with you.” Rosie looked at Josh and her stomach tightened. She wanted him to put his arms around her and cover her lips with his own.

  “You don’t know what you want.” Josh turned and strode towards the driveway. “If owning a couple of local stores and living in a ranch-style house isn’t enough, you better tell me now. I’m never going to be more than I am.”

  “That’s not what I meant at all!” Rosie ran after him.

  “I’m going home, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Rosie looked up at the house and noticed Angelica and Dirk standing at an upstairs window. Dirk had his arms around Angelica and she threw her head back and laughed. Oscar and Estelle sat on the swing on the porch. Oscar smoked a cigar and Estelle hummed a song.

  Rosie walked dejectedly back to the cottage. Josh’s shirts hung neatly in the closet and there was an empty space in the bed where he usually slept. Her eyes hurt and she was suddenly freezing. She unzipped her dress and pulled the comforter over her head.

  Fourteen

  Rosie heard someone knocking on the cottage door and opened her eyes. It was early afternoon and the sun streamed through the French doors. The sprinklers made gurgling noises and voices carried across the lawn.

  If only she could do dinner last night all over again. If she had agreed to be Angelica’s maid of honor, Josh would be lying beside her in bed. They’d be planning their trip and looking up quaint bed-and-breakfasts and cafes on the French Riviera.

  There was another short knock. Rosie slipped on her robe and opened the door.

  “I saw Josh peel down the driveway last night.” Morris held a silver tray. “I figured if you weren’t up by noon, I’d bring breakfast.”

  “I appreciate it but I’m not hungry.” Rosie walked back inside and perched on the bed.

  “Orange juice to bolster your immune system.” Morris set a glass on the table. “A poached egg for protein and grapefruit to make your skin glow.”

  “No, thank you. It’s Sunday, and Patrick’s sister is minding the store. I’m going back to sleep.”

  “What happened?” Morris demanded.

  Rosie sat against the headboard and hugged her knees to her chest. She told Morris how angry Josh became because he thought she was ashamed of him. Josh asked her to move in with him and she realized she didn’t want to live together; she wanted to get married.

  “I can understand why Josh was upset.” Morris nodded. “I can’t imagine anything more fabulous than a wedding in Monte Carlo. It’s the sexiest place on earth. The men and women dress in the most divine fashions and the ocean is the color of topaz.”

  “You’re not helping,” Rosie said miserably.

  “You’re behaving like a throwback to the 1950s,” Morris scoffed. “If you want to get married, tell him.”

  “I can’t do that, I guess I’m too traditional.” Rosie shook her head. “Josh has to be the one to propose.”

  “Men aren’t magicians, they can’t read minds,” Morris said. “You have to be honest with Josh and tell him how you feel.”

  “I don’t even know what came over me.” Rosie stood up and paced around the room. “Ben and I lived together for eight years and I didn’t think about marriage. We used to talk about it like we discussed traveling to Spain or Peru. It sounded wonderful but we could do it in the future, when we didn’t have so much work.”

  “It’s called being in love,” Morris said soberly. “It’s like a head cold. It clogs your brain and makes your eyes water.”

  “I thought being in love releases endorphins, like chocolate.” Rosie sighed.

  “That’s the version you read in Cosmopolitan,” Morris corrected. “The real thing is messy and exhausting. That’s why you need a proper breakfast.” He pointed to the tray.

  “Why aren’t I happy running the store and being with Josh?” Rosie admonished herself. “Why do I want a poufy white dress and a piece of paper and the same last name for our children?”

  “Because you’re human.” Morris stood at the door.

  “In my next life, I want to come back as a dog.” Rosie stabbed the egg with a fork and looked at Morris. “Thank you for always propping me up when I’m down. You’re a great friend and I really appreciate it.”

  “That’s what friends are for.” Morris nodded. “Finish your egg, you need the protein for strength.”

  * * *

  Rosie’s phone buzzed as she scraped the remains of the egg. She glanced at the screen, hoping it was Josh. She’d tell him to come over and they’d both apologize. Then they’d go into the village and read French guidebooks over croissants and cups of milky coffee.

  “Hey,” Colby’s voice came over the line. “I hope you haven’t forgotten our date. Can you be ready in thirty minutes?”

  Rosie jumped up and looked at herself in the mirror. She still wore last night’s makeup, and her hair frizzed in a halo around her head.

  “I forgot all about it!” Rosie exclaimed. “I’m not feeling well.”

  “You’re going to love it,” Colby said cheerfully. “We’ll pick you up, wear comfortable clothes.”

  “Where are we going?” Rosie asked.

  “It’s a surprise,” Colby answered as if he was used to women following him anywhere.

 
* * *

  “If I was you, I’d change into a long-sleeved shirt and sneakers,” Colby said when she answered the door. “And a hat with a broad brim.”

  “Are you kidnapping me?” Rosie pulled a cotton shirt over her halter top. She took off her sandals and found a pair of sneakers under the bed.

  “We’re taking you somewhere you’ve never been.” Ryan appeared behind Colby. His hair was slicked back and his sunglasses were perched on his forehead.

  “I’m taking my phone.” Rosie grabbed it from the side table. “If you drive across the border, people will come find me.”

  Rosie followed them to Colby’s silver convertible and slid into the backseat. She had forgotten the pleasure of driving along the coast. The ocean was pale blue and the sand glistened like a string of pearls. A few sailboats sat on the horizon, their white sails billowing in the breeze.

  Colby turned the car inland and they climbed towards the mountains. The palm trees became olive trees and the road wound between rolling vineyards and farmland. The clear air filled Rosie’s lungs, pushing away the black cloud that enveloped her.

  They drove through woods and past waterfalls. Rosie turned around and the village below was like pieces on a board game. The ocean became a blue blot and the boats were tiny white specks. They kept climbing and Rosie’s ears rang and she tied her hat on her head.

  “Where are we going?” She leaned forward and asked Colby, who maneuvered the stick shift like a race-car driver.

  “We’re almost there,” he yelled, taking a turn and stopping in front of tall iron gates. They were in a clearing: The mountains loomed above, the ocean a clear piece of glass far below. Behind the gate was a cluster of buildings painted in different colors. There was a paddock with a white fence and a long house with wide porches.

  “Where are we?” Rosie got out of the car. The air was hot and stale, and bugs slapped at her skin.

  “Welcome to the Circle Bar B Ranch.” Colby jumped out of the car. “It has been the favorite destination of countless celebrities such as Clark Gable and Rita Hayworth and more recently the Kardashians and Kanye West.”

  “And Colby Young,” Ryan broke in.

  “I may have increased its popularity.” Colby grinned. “But that’s because it’s awesome. They have a guesthouse, a dinner theater, and shops that resemble a western town.”

  Rosie walked towards painted buildings with signs that said GENERAL STORE and BLACKSMITH. She peeked in the window and there were bags of feed and rows of saddles and cowboy boots.

  “What are we doing here?” Rosie asked.

  Colby’s eyes twinkled as if he was about to let Rosie in on a big secret.

  “We’re going riding.” Colby walked towards the paddock and pointed at a dappled horse. “That’s Drummer, your horse.”

  “My what?” Rosie ran behind him. “I haven’t been on a horse since my seventh birthday party. I got so scared, I couldn’t eat the cake.”

  “There’s nothing to be afraid of, Drummer is as docile as a lamb. And the trails are amazing.” Colby waved his hand. “You can see the whole coast from Point Conception to Point Dume.”

  “Why are we going riding?” Rosie suddenly wished she were back in the cottage, sipping orange juice and eating Peg’s poached egg.

  “A change of scenery is energizing,” Colby continued. “Plus, these are the most spectacular views in Southern California. Enrico is going to be our private guide and carry our picnic basket. All you have to do is hop on Drummer and follow him.”

  “Why is it so important that we go riding?” Rosie eyed the horse. The horse’s nose was damp and he swung his tail lazily in the air. “What do you guys have planned that you’re not telling me.”

  “Trust me, you’ll enjoy it. Besides, you don’t want to miss out on prosciutto on rolls, and strawberries and fresh whipped cream. Enrico,” Colby called. “Did you pack the Kenwood Chardonnay?”

  “Sí señor.” Enrico nodded.

  “And you’re going to miss a fine Chardonnay,” Colby coaxed. “C’mon, riding Drummer is easier than riding a tricycle.”

  Rosie looked helplessly at Ryan, but he laughed and shrugged his shoulders. “I was terrified the first time I rode Mickey.” Ryan pointed to a large black horse. “It’ll be worth it when you see the view.”

  Rosie took a deep breath and climbed on Drummer. The horse bucked gently, and Rosie was certain she’d end up sprawled on the dirt. But he quieted down and waited for Rosie’s command.

  “See, there’s nothing to it.” Colby jumped on his horse. “Enrico, let’s ride. I’m getting hungry.”

  Enrico led the group and Rosie followed. Ryan trotted behind her and Colby brought up the rear, singing songs from his new album. The sky was cloudless and the sun was a yellow ball. She was glad she wore her hat and wished she had a wet cloth to wipe her forehead.

  They rode on steep paths shaded by oak trees. The ground was like a velvet carpet and the air smelled of ferns and moss. They stopped at a waterfall and let the horses drink in the stream. The higher they climbed, the more Rosie thought the whole thing was a dream.

  As they reached the summit, even Colby grew quiet. The only sound was the occasional squirrel darting through the trees. The trail ended and there was a wide clearing. Rosie was afraid if she looked down, she might faint.

  “Are you afraid of heights?” Ryan asked.

  “I don’t think so.” Rosie gulped. “But I’ve only been this high up on an airplane.”

  “Hop off and follow me.” Ryan pulled his horse to a stop.

  Rosie dismounted and followed Ryan up a narrow path. There was a clump of trees, and on the other side a rock that jutted out over the valley.

  “There,” Ryan said, as if he created the valley himself. “Look.”

  Rosie looked up and saw deep forests and rushing streams. There was every color of the rainbow: purple flowers and green grass and blue waterfalls. Far below was the Pacific Ocean. It wasn’t the ocean Rosie knew, with seagulls skimming the waves and swimmers rolling in the surf. It was an ocean painted by an impressionist painter, caught at the magic hour.

  “Oh, it’s gorgeous.” Rosie put her hand over her mouth.

  “You can see the Channel Islands, and all the way to San Diego.” Colby bounded behind her.

  “I feel like God,” Rosie murmured. “Looking down on creation.”

  “We’ll come back after lunch.” Colby waved at the view. “Riding for two hours makes me starving.”

  Enrico had spread out a blanket, and there were plates of sandwiches and fresh fruit. There was a jug of lemonade, a bottle of wine in a silver bucket, bowls of strawberries, and a tub of whipped cream.

  Rosie nibbled green grapes and watched Colby devour a sandwich like a schoolboy. She felt suddenly strange. She barely knew Colby and Ryan, and now she was sitting on top of a mountain, removed from everything by a long, winding trail.

  “We didn’t just bring you up here to admire the view,” Colby said when he finished his second sandwich. “We have a proposition for you.”

  Rosie choked on a grape. “I appreciate everything you did for the store, but I’m not that kind of girl.”

  Colby and Ryan looked at each other and Colby burst out laughing. “You’re beautiful, but I have a steady girlfriend.”

  “You do?” Rosie asked. Rachel would be devastated. All the gossip magazines claimed Colby was single.

  “We keep it secret because she got a few death threats from my fans,” Colby said. “It’s a business proposition. Did you know you can’t get a fish taco in North Dakota or Missouri? I want to expand Rosie’s Fish Tacos; not just to states like Hawaii and Oregon that love Mexican food. I want to bring it to states that have never seen a tortilla and don’t have an ocean. And I want to introduce Rosie’s Fish Tacos to high-end grocery stores: frozen entrées, Rosie’s guacamole in hip packaging.”

  “I don’t want to sell Rosie’s Fish Tacos,” Rosie said hesitantly. “I like running the store.”
<
br />   “We’d be partners,” Colby explained. “We’ll provide the capital; you supply the recipes. Our lawyers will figure out the percentages. If we get a response like the one you’re getting at the shop, it’s going to be huge.”

  “Why tacos?” Rosie frowned. “You’ve got your panini places and your burger joints.”

  “Colby makes more money with his restaurants than album sales and tours combined,” Ryan chimed in. “Americans are always hungry.”

  “No one thinks a kid my age knows what he’s doing.” Colby was suddenly serious. “Someday there’s going to be a new face on the cover of Rolling Stone, and I want to keep creating. Opening restaurants is like writing songs.”

  Rosie pictured walking into Vons and seeing Rosie’s Fish Tacos in the frozen food section. She imagined visiting Rosie’s Fish Tacos stores in Virginia and Wyoming.

  “I’ve never done anything like that.” She ate a bite of her sandwich.

  “You never opened a fish taco store before,” Ryan reminded her. “You’ve got a golden touch.”

  “I don’t know if I’m ready,” she said lamely. Suddenly she remembered Josh saying he wasn’t good enough and flinched. Would Josh be thrilled that they’d be financially stable, or appalled that she was teaming up with a celebrity? Maybe Josh wouldn’t care at all. Maybe he had left for good.

  “You know the Pullman estate? If this takes off like we think it will, you can buy an estate just like it. Do you know how much the Kardashians make on their line of clothing? One hundred million a year,” Ryan offered.

  “I’m not the Kardashians,” Rosie said and dipped a strawberry into whipped cream.

  “But Colby is,” Ryan insisted. “With Colby’s name and your product, Rosie’s Fish Tacos could be a very lucrative venture.”

  Rosie glanced from Ryan to Colby. They were like two puppies, bursting with enthusiasm. “Can I think about it?” she asked.

  “I’ve never had someone say they had to think about making millions for doing the same thing they’re doing now.” Ryan chuckled.

  “Just for a few days,” Rosie responded.

  “I remember when Ryan discovered me singing at the baseball field and told me he was going to make me a star,” Colby recalled. “I thought he was wacko and almost hit him with the bat.”