“He wasn’t alone. This whole town was his family. If that’s my life’s legacy, then I’ll be proud.”
“If it’s truly what you want, it should be yours. The whole thing. You don’t have to buy me out. Honor and I are very set financially. I’ll sign it all over to you. Your heart is there, obviously. But please, take some time to think it over.”
She didn’t need to think it over, but she would acquiesce for now. “Thank you, Zane.”
She hung up, drained and relieved at the same time, and sat on one of the stools at the island, then buried her face in her arms and let the tears come.
“Everything all right, dear?”
She looked up to see Mrs. Coventry standing on the other side of the island. “Yes, I’m fine.” She swiped at her cheeks, embarrassed to be found crying in a stranger’s kitchen.
Mrs. Coventry had changed into a cotton sheath dress. Her silver hair was dry now and fixed in a straight bob that fell at her chin. She had remarkably good posture, as if a stick ran from the top of her head to the base of her spine. Sophie imagined her sitting on the back seat of a convertible wearing a ball gown and a tiara, waving her small hand like a queen. Everyone was so casual now, especially in California. Mrs. Coventry, on the other hand, seemed to have come from a different time and place. One more formal and glamorous than the one where Sophie spent her days, that was for sure. Mrs. Coventry would never fill pints of beer, letting it slip over the side of the glass and splash her sleeve as Sophie did on a regular basis. Zane’s words came back to her. I want more for you.
Why did all the men in her life seem to think they knew what she needed and wanted?
“Having yourself a little cry?” Mrs. Coventry asked, not unkindly but without a hint of sentimentality.
Sophie nodded. “I’m feeling a little sorry for myself.”
Mrs. Coventry clucked her tongue. “Nothing to be ashamed of. You’ve been through a terrible ordeal. Even those of us made of steel have to cry it out every so often.”
Made of steel? At the moment she felt more like a bowl of pudding. She stole a tissue from a box on the island and wiped under her eyes. “Since I’ve invaded your kitchen, may I make you a coffee?”
Mrs. Coventry brightened and clapped her hands together. “Lovely. Thank you. Double espresso with a splash of cream, please.” She drifted over to a drawer and pulled out two precisely folded and pressed cloth napkins, then two spoons from another. As she spoke, she set two places at the table. “I imagine it seems impossible on a day like today that last night happened?”
An image of the orange and yellow flames shooting from the windows of her apartment flashed before her. “Yes. The whole thing seems like a bad dream.”
“This too shall pass.” Mrs. Coventry sat and spread a napkin over her lap. “Soon, it’ll be only a memory. One you’ll look back on and see it was the beginning of something new and delightful in your life.”
“How do you know?”
“When you’re my age, you look back and see how the pieces of your life fit into the overall puzzle. This happened because that happened and so forth. The particularly hard parts and terrible failures always seem to be the biggest turning points that lead to better than you could ever believe possible.”
Sophie took in a deep breath as Mrs. Coventry’s words filled her with hope. The sun had risen up over the eastern sky by now and shed bright sunlight over the pool. Beyond, the Pacific was covered by a layer of fog, typical of summer mornings here. Soon, it would roll out to sea and Sophie would wonder, as she always did, if it had been there at all. Fog was like the bad things in life. She must remember that over the next few days. This too shall pass.
“Thank you,” Sophie said. “Your words help more than you know.”
“Isn’t it funny how sometimes the right person enters your life just when you need them? Even when you don’t realize you need anyone at all?”
“It is.” Sophie took down one of the small cups stored on the shelf above the espresso machine.
While the machine ground beans and dispensed espresso, Sophie rinsed out her cup and set it near the sink. When the perfect double was ready, Sophie added a spot of cream and presented it to Mrs. Coventry.
“This is divine. Thank you, dear.” Mrs. Coventry brought the small cup close to her nose. “Smells glorious.”
Sophie’s stomach growled. “Now, about that granola. I’m starving.”
Mrs. Coventry gestured toward one of the white bins on the counter near the refrigerator. “He keeps it in there. The awful white yogurt is in the refrigerator.” She paused, tilting her head to one side. “I wouldn’t turn down a tablespoon or two of honey on mine.”
“Sure thing.” Sophie walked across the large kitchen and busied herself with putting together two bowls of granola with yogurt and a generous sprinkling of honey. When they were ready, she brought them to the table. They ate in silence for a few minutes.
“The granola is really hard to chew,” Sophie said after the third bite. “My mom buys this same kind.”
“I’m surprised I haven’t lost a crown.” Mrs. Coventry dotted her mouth with her napkin.
“And the yogurt’s really sour.”
“Awful. However, it’s almost edible with the addition of honey. Nico doesn’t believe in adding sweetener to this hamster feed.”
Sophie laughed. “He has high cholesterol, so he’s very deliberate in his food choices.”
“Isn’t it boring? For one so fit and young, high cholesterol seems impossible.” Mrs. Coventry grinned, making her appear impish and mischievous. “I think he’s making it up.”
“Nico never lies.” Sophie found herself grinning back at Mrs. Coventry. “He’s incapable. Which is something we have in common.
“Does he ever talk about me?” The question kind of slipped out. Sophie regretted it instantly, but it was too late to pull the words back. That was the whole problem with spoken words. If only she could learn to keep things inside, she might do a lot less blushing.
Mrs. Coventry drank the rest of her espresso before answering. “Yes. He talks about you often.”
“What does he say?”
Mrs. Coventry looked at her for a moment longer than was comfortable. Sophie broke eye contact and moved a raisin around her bowl as if she were as interested in the dried fruit as Mrs. Coventry was in her. “I’m not sure I should betray his confidence, even if it’s for his own good. He knows you’re special, but he’s been trying to distract himself with all the others.”
“The others?”
Mrs. Coventry brought her hand to her neck and played with the silver chain around her neck. “The ones he brings home.”
A dart of jealous heat rushed through her. All the others. She knew the others. Too many times, she’d had to endure him flirting with them at the bar, then taking them home. Each one had been a lesson in pain.
“They’re not old souls like you,” Mrs. Coventry said. “He knows that. Simply put, he’s in love with you.”
“I’m so in love with him.” Sophie lifted her shoulders, intending to shrug, but instead let out a long, sad sigh. “I love him. Too much.”
“There’s no such thing as loving someone too much.”
“Unless the other person can’t receive it,” Sophie said. “Or doesn’t want to.”
“Yes, as is the case with our Nico.”
Sophie met her gaze, and by the sympathetic and knowing glint in her eyes, she knew the older, and probably much wiser, woman understood quite well the longings of her heart. “He’s afraid I’ll change my mind and he’ll be hurt again. Isn’t that stupid?”
“Sadly, our capacity for fear rises every time our hearts are broken.” Mrs. Coventry pushed her bowl away. “And then there’s his mother. It’s her voice in his head that tells him he’s not good enough. One only chooses a mate based on their own feelings of self-worth. Therefore, he cannot see himself with you.”
She stared at Mrs. Coventry. “I’ve never heard it descr
ibed that way, but you’re right.”
“When you’re told your whole life you’re worthless, only the miracle of love can make you see it’s all been a giant lie.”
“I wish I could be that miracle.”
Mrs. Coventry spread her hands out in front of her. “Dear girl, you are his miracle. He ran into a burning building to save you without any thought of his own safety. He was willing to die for you.”
A chill passed through her body. “Yes.”
“Last night, it was you who needed rescuing. In the big picture, it’s you who’ll have to save him.”
“But how? He keeps pushing me away.”
“I admit, he’s a hard case. However, this is not insurmountable. You need to love him unconditionally to counteract the conditional love his parents gave him. Secondly, you have to convince him that you’re worth the risk and that unlike his fiancée, you’ll never leave him for someone else.”
“That seems impossible.”
Mrs. Coventry tapped her temple. “Not with this old lady at the helm.” She played with an earring, obviously thinking. “With a damaged heart, it’s all about actions. We need a three-pronged approach. First, declaration of war. You tell him you’re not giving up on him until he realizes you’re here to stay. Second, seduction. You need to get him into bed. Once he feels what it’s like to be with a woman who loves him, there will be no going back. Which means you’re going to pull out all the stops. Go big or go home type of thing.”
“I don’t know how to seduce someone. I’m inexperienced in that area. Meaning, I have zero. I’ve been saving myself for the one.”
Mrs. Coventry practically cackled. “This keeps getting better and better. After his run with the lesbian, the first time he makes you come, he’s going to lose his mind.”
“Mrs. Coventry!”
“What? Did he tell you the fiancée admitted to faking it during their intimate moments?”
Sophie shook her head. “No, he hasn’t told me anything about that.”
“He’s going to know in his heart how much you love him when he has you in his bed. He’ll feel your love then and start to trust it. And the way you’ll love him will make him feel like king of the universe, which will give him the confidence he needs.
“My Paul used to say that all was fair in love and business. Soft-pitch was for amateurs. You, darling, must play hardball. Which is to say, you’re going to have to go against your every instinct and be a bit of a seductress.”
“How do I do that?”
Mrs. Coventry tapped her chest. “Darling, you’re in luck. You’re in the presence of a first-class femme fatale. I’ll teach you my tricks. Now, don’t look like that. This will never work unless you have a little fun connecting to your inner vamp.”
“Vamp? No, that’s not me.”
Mrs. Coventry smoothed one slender hand over her silver hair. “Yes, obviously. You’re almost completely hopeless. But I’m an excellent coach, so we’ll soldier on. Seduction, my dear, is the name of this game. Looking the way you do, all luscious and curvy, with that tanned skin on display, there’s no way he can resist you if you ramp it up a bit.”
Sophie was now blushing from head to toe.
“You can’t be afraid to touch him, flirt with him. Use your instincts.”
“What’s the third thing?” Sophie asked.
“If he still won’t give in and beg you to marry him, you’re going to have to leave. But that’s only if he’s not yet convinced that he deserves you. For the truly fearful, sometimes the only thing that works is their worst fear actually happening. You’ll have to force him to chase after you.” She paused to take a breath. “Don’t worry, this is all going to work out in the end.”
“How do you know?”
“Because you and Nico are just like my Paul and me. He was a hard case too, but I won him over eventually. We had forty-five terrific years together. And guess what? I was only twenty years old when I met him.”
“How old was he?”
“Thirty-two.”
“Just like us,” Sophie said.
“That’s right. So you leave it to me.”
“I’m at your mercy.” Impulsively she jumped up from her chair and gave Mrs. Coventry a hug.
“If we’re already at the hugging stage, you’d best call me Judi.”
Sophie smiled as she picked up both their bowls to take to the sink. “Judi, I feel like making some spaghetti sauce. If I’m going to seduce him, I need some carbs.”
11
Nico
* * *
Nico jerked awake. Disoriented, he struggled to sit upright as the events from the night before drizzled into his mind. Sophie in tears. Fire. Sophie in his bed. He groaned as he set his feet on the floor and rubbed his eyes. Every muscle in his body ached. What time was it? How long had he slept?
Bright sunlight peeked through the gaps in the drawn shades. He looked at his watch. Just before noon. Jen was no longer at his feet. She wasn’t in her doggy bed, either. He slowly rose to his feet and peeked through the open door of his bedroom. No Sophie. She must have taken Jen out and probably fed her. Where were they now? She couldn’t have gone far without a car. Without the two of them, the apartment seemed abandoned and lonely.
Even one night with her here made him wish for more.
He was in so much trouble.
Nico used the bathroom, then brushed his teeth. He showered, hoping it would clear the fuzziness from his brain. The hot water did its job. As he dried off and dressed in shorts and a T-shirt, he felt somewhat restored.
Mrs. Coventry was probably worried about him. He never slept late. Would she have heard about the fire? He hadn’t been up to make her breakfast. She might have forgotten to eat. Maybe Jen and Sophie had gone over for a visit? That would explain their absence. Jen often overstayed her welcome at the big house. Last week she’d decided it was a fine idea to take a swim in Mrs. Coventry’s pristine pool.
He crossed the driveway to the big house. Jen’s ball lay on the top step. Without knocking, he let himself inside, then paused in the foyer. The rich scent of coffee filled the space. Two soft, feminine voices were coming from the kitchen. The women were chatting away like old friends.
He walked down the hallway to the kitchen. Mrs. Coventry and Jen were seated side by side at the large kitchen island. Jen wore a red-and-white bandanna around her neck as if she were waiting for a steak dinner. Where had that come from?
Sophie was at the stove, stirring something that smelled of fresh tomatoes, basil, and garlic. She wore one of his sweatshirts and a pair of boxer shorts. He shuddered to think of her going through his drawers, then went hot remembering the large box of condoms he kept in the same drawer. Before he could look away, he noticed her nipples pressed against the fabric of the sweatshirt. Having Sophie around reminded him of being thirteen. An unwanted and spontaneous erection was a constant possibility.
He stopped in the doorway, surprised at the rapport between the two women. Mrs. Coventry kept most people at a distance. The woman who’d cleaned the house every other day for two decades was tolerated but kept at a distance. Mrs. Coventry was a slow burner. Apparently, twenty years wasn’t enough time in which to grow fond of a person.
Nico had no idea why she’d taken to him almost immediately. Like her, this was a mystery. When he’d answered the Craigslist ad for the bungalow in exchange for gardening, he’d expected to find a sweet, dithering old lady who smelled of lavender and cookies who dressed in polyester pants and bedazzled sweatshirts. The house, he assumed, would be outdated with cobwebs in the corners and maybe some hideous red carpet. However, the reality was quite different. Mrs. Coventry was more salty than sweet, and the closest she came to dithering was the rare occasion when she couldn’t finish the New York Times crossword puzzle. She smelled of expensive French perfume and wore Chanel suits or expensive leisure outfits even though she rarely left the house. Her hair was cut into such a precise inverted bob that he suspected the ends could
cut through skin if one came too close.
The house was a beauty. No cobwebs, only polish.
He stepped all the way into the kitchen.
“Oh, there you are,” Sophie said. “We thought you might sleep all day.”
Jen barked a hello and jumped off her stool to come greet him. He knelt to pet her and scratch under her chin. After a kiss on his hand, Jen ambled off to a spot of sun on the floor near the French doors and plopped over as if suddenly exhausted.
“We played a lot of ball,” Sophie said. “She’s tired.”
“And chased a squirrel out by the pool,” Mrs. Coventry said.
“A very naughty squirrel who ran up a tree and teased her incessantly,” Sophie said. “We had to bring her inside and give her a treat to distract her from her new nemesis.”
“Where’d the bandanna come from?” he asked.
“Judi found that in Paul’s old things,” Sophie said. “So after Jen’s bath, I put it on her.”
“She had a bath?” Had he slept a full two days?
“I worked at a grooming shop one summer,” Sophie said. “Didn’t I tell you that?”
“No, I don’t recall that,” he said. Was there anything this girl couldn’t do?
Mrs. Coventry beamed at him. “Now she’s making her homemade spaghetti sauce.”
“It smells delicious,” he said as he walked around the island to the cooktop where a red sauce simmered in a large pot. His stomach growled. “When’s lunch?”
Sophie looked up at him. “This is for dinner, but I could make you something else.”
Were they all having dinner together? “No, I’ll just get some granola.”
“Do you want me to make you a bowl of granola?” Sophie asked him from the refrigerator.
“Yes, please. But no honey. The granola’s sweet enough.”
Mrs. Coventry rolled her eyes.
“Do we have any berries?” Sophie asked.
“Nico says they’re too expensive.”
“You do?” Sophie asked with a note of horror in her voice. As if the lack of berries were a travesty of the deepest kind.
Jilted Page 12