Emerald Coast

by Anita Hughes

  “Roger and I broke up more than a year ago,” Lily countered. “He fell in love with someone else.”

  “It was hurtful the way Roger ended things, but he had a good reason. And it’s healthy for young couples to take a break, it makes them appreciate each other,” Alice mused. “I could tell by the way he looked at you that he’s still in love with you.”

  “I don’t want to marry Roger,” Lily insisted. “I want to be with Oliver.”

  “Oliver is twenty-three, he’s not ready to settle down.” She shrugged. “And even if he was, what would be your future? At best, he’ll write a newspaper column, and you’ll live in a flat on Van Ness. This is where you belong.” She waved at the beamed ceiling and double ovens. “Giving dinner parties and attending galas.”

  “I told Roger I wasn’t interested in him,” Lily said. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going to join Oliver at the restaurant.”

  “Roger is persistent, and you’ll see each other at social functions.” Alice patted her hair. “I’m sure you’ll come around.”

  “That’s impossible.” Lily took a deep breath. “Oliver and I are engaged.”

  “What did you say?” Alice gasped.

  Lily regretted the words as soon as they were out of her mouth. But her mother hated losing an argument, and how else would Roger leave her alone?

  “We were going to tell you on Christmas Eve,” she continued. “We couldn’t be happier.”

  “You’re not wearing a ring.” Alice glanced at her finger.

  “Oliver’s mother is sending his grandmother’s ring from Ohio,” Lily explained. “We’re going to have a spring wedding and go to Portugal on our honeymoon. I heard the Azores are spectacular.”

  “You can’t marry Oliver,” Alice insisted. “He doesn’t know anything about San Francisco society. And you’ve always wanted children. How will you afford private school and orthodontists on his salary?”

  “We have plenty of time for children, and I’m going to open my own store.” She defended her decision.

  She really should have made up a different story. She should have said she was going backpacking in Asia or had decided to be celibate for a year. What was going to happen when her parents grilled Oliver about his plans for a college fund?

  Oliver! What would Oliver say when she told him she’d pretended they were engaged? They’d never talked about the future; she’d ruined everything. But she couldn’t admit to her mother she’d lied. Alice wouldn’t stop until Roger led Lily down the aisle of St. Dominic’s.

  Oliver was right, she should have moved to her own apartment. But she loved the mansion on top of Pacific Heights, and her parents were so busy, they rarely saw each other. And anyway, just because she borrowed her mother’s Vogue, it didn’t mean her mother could tell her whom to marry.

  “I know you’ve been saving money, but opening your own store is expensive.” Alice inspected her fingernails. “I can’t promise your father and I will help if you marry Oliver.”

  “We don’t need your help. We have each other.” Lily gathered her purse. “Merry Christmas, Mother. I’ll see you later.”

  * * *

  Lily clutched her pashmina and hurried down Columbus Avenue. Ever since she’d left the party, she couldn’t stop shivering. She pictured the last few months with Oliver: visiting the redwoods in Muir Woods and taking the ferry to Sausalito. Whole Sundays spent sitting at a café on Russian Hill. Even doing Oliver’s laundry at the Laundromat was fun. They took turns doing the New York Times crossword puzzle and separating the colors from the whites.

  What if Oliver was furious at her for saying they were engaged? Her mother had surprised her, and she’d blurted out the first thing that came to mind. It didn’t mean anything.

  “I thought you’d be sipping vodka gimlets and nibbling smoked salmon,” Oliver said when she entered the restaurant. “I didn’t expect to see you for hours.”

  Oliver looked so handsome in his white shirt and tan slacks. His dark hair touched his collar, and his cheeks were brown and smooth.

  “I left the party early.” Lily shrugged. “You see the same people year after year. It’s quite boring.”

  “That’s not what you told me when you asked me to take the night off.” Oliver led her into the kitchen. “You said the oysters are from an oyster farm in Bolinas, and the cognac is from your father’s private collection, and the house is lit up like the San Francisco Opera House.”

  Lily fiddled with her earrings and couldn’t keep it from Oliver any longer.

  “My mother invited Roger without telling me,” she blurted out.

  “Roger?” Oliver repeated.

  “I’m sure I mentioned Roger. We started dating when I was a junior in high school and he was at Stanford. He went to Columbia Law School, and I attended UCLA, and the relationship didn’t last.”

  “That was ages ago.” Oliver smiled. “I didn’t think I was your first boyfriend.”

  “It’s a bit more complicated,” Lily hesitated. “Roger broke up with me and got engaged to another girl. The engagement ended, and now he’s working at a law firm in San Francisco.”

  “What are you saying?” Oliver stiffened. “Did something happen?”

  “Of course not! My mother told Roger I was still in love with him, and he asked me to dinner. I tried to convince her I didn’t want anything to do with him, but she wouldn’t listen.” Lily looked at Oliver and her eyes were huge. “So I told her we were engaged.”

  “You did what!” Oliver exclaimed.

  “It’s impossible to win an argument with my mother, and I didn’t want Roger calling me. I’m terribly sorry. I’ll tell her we called it off. We’re still dating, but we decided to take things slowly.” She paused and her cheeks burned. “I shouldn’t have lied and I haven’t even thought about marriage. It was a silly mistake.”

  Oliver stuffed his hands in his pockets and paced around the room.

  “Now that you mention it, it is a good idea,” he began. “I don’t want to call it off.”

  “You don’t want to call what off?” she asked.

  “The engagement,” he answered. “Why should we call it off when we’re in love? It will be difficult at first, but when we’re together I feel like I can accomplish anything. The Chronicle loves my reviews, I’m sure they’ll hire me full time. Eventually, you’ll open your own store, and it’ll be a great success. We’re going to have a wonderful future.”

  “You want to get married?” Lily gasped. “That’s ridiculous. We’re too young, and we’ve barely started our careers. You don’t even have your own apartment.”

  “You won’t marry me because of my living situation?” Oliver protested.

  Lily looked at Oliver’s blue eyes and suddenly wanted him more than anything. “I won’t marry you because you haven’t asked me.”

  Oliver walked over to a pile of linen napkins and loosened a napkin ring. He kneeled on the stone floor and took Lily’s hand.

  “The last few months have been the best of my life, and I love you more than anything. When we’re together, I never know what’s going to happen next, and that makes life exciting. I may not be able give you a mansion in Pacific Heights or three weeks on Lake Tahoe every summer, but I’ll spend every day making you happy.” He paused. “Lily Wallace, will you marry me?”

  Lily inhaled Oliver’s musk aftershave. They were too young to get married, and with their combined incomes, they could barely afford a studio apartment. But Oliver was handsome and warm, and she couldn’t imagine them being apart.

  “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

  He slipped the napkin ring on her finger and kissed her. She kissed him back, and a shiver ran down her spine.

  “It doesn’t quite fit, it’s a little large. I never thought I’d get engaged with a napkin ring.” She laughed. “Maybe we’ll set a new trend.”

  “I’m sure Guido knows someone in the diamond business,” Oliver suggested. “I have money saved. I’ll
buy a one-carat diamond on a platinum band.”

  “You’ll do nothing of the sort.” She shook her head. “That money has to help pay for furniture and kitchen utensils and a bed.”

  “Describe the bed.” Oliver stroked her cheek.

  “King-sized, with a headboard, so we can stay up all night reading,” she mused. “And it has to have a firm mattress or we’ll end up with bad backs.”

  “I don’t want to stay up all night reading.” Oliver pulled her close.

  “What would you rather do?” she asked.

  Oliver covered her mouth with his. He wrapped his arms around her and held her so tightly she couldn’t breathe.

  “I love you,” he said, pulling away.

  “I love you too,” she whispered.

  The other waiters clapped, and the chef sent a busboy to chill a bottle of champagne.

  Her lips were sore, and her heart raced, and she had never been so happy.

  * * *

  Lily slid under the bubbles and closed her eyes. Of course she was nostalgic for the past; they had been young and in love. But she wasn’t going to think about all that now. She had to go the hotel gift shop and buy something to wear for her picnic with Ricky. Enzo was right. She was a single young woman staying on one of the most glamorous coastlines lines in the world. Why shouldn’t she find romance?

  Chapter Six

  OLIVER SAT ON A LOVE seat in the hotel lobby and wished he smoked. It was silly to long for a habit that made your clothes reek and gave you cancer. And Louisa would never speak to him. Children were taught that lighting a cigarette was worse than being a criminal.

  But the dark-haired man at the bar blowing smoke rings seemed so relaxed. Even the women who were smoking looked sexy, with their gold earrings and cigarettes dangling from their fingertips.

  Of course, having his ex-wife staying in an adjoining suite made him nervous. It was like when he’d been a teenager and seen his history teacher at the cinema. He admired Miss Martin, but he didn’t want to run into her when he was sneaking into an R-rated movie.

  Was he afraid that Lily would interfere with his relationship with Angela, or was it something else? And why did seeing Lily, with her oval sunglasses and Tory Burch sandals, make him want to swallow a packet of TUMS?

  He couldn’t worry about it now; Angela had gone to the suite to change, and then they were going to swim at Spiaggia del Principe. It was named the Prince’s Beach because it was the favorite beach of Prince Aga Khan. An afternoon of splashing in the azure water would be the perfect antidote to his anxiety. He imagined sipping Bellinis with Angela and felt suddenly brighter.

  And he was on the Emerald Coast to work. He had received an invitation from the chef at Trattoria Balbacana to sample his paglia pasta with sea asparagus. The restaurant was nestled in the town of San Pantaleo at the foot of the Gallura Mountains. It was only minutes from the Emerald Coast, but there weren’t any smart boutiques or fancy sports cars—just a village built around a stone church and outdoor market. Maybe he’d go tomorrow and take Angela. A short excursion away from Hotel Cervo was just what he needed.

  A woman wearing a straw hat crossed the lobby, and he remembered his first holiday with Lily. They had spent their honeymoon in Portugal and thought life was a string of warm beaches and romantic dinners … except for the sudden jealousy that had consumed Oliver and made him behave in a way he instantly regretted.

  * * *

  Oliver sat an outdoor café and squinted into the sun. The fishing village of Salema in Portugal was the perfect destination for their honeymoon. Cobbled streets had whitewashed houses with latticed chimney boxes and blue trim. The wide beach was flanked by sharp cliffs, and restaurants spilled onto the sand. And the people were so friendly! The fishermen taught them how to catch an octopus: you put a jar in the ocean, and the octopus climbed into the glass.

  The best part was that it was far from Lily’s parents in San Francisco. Her mother had acted as if she were furious that Lily and Oliver had decided to have a small wedding in Carmel, but Oliver suspected she was relieved. Alice didn’t have to explain to her friends at the Bohemian Club why Lily was marrying a waiter.

  He pictured the wedding reception at the Pebble Beach Lodge and clutched his glass. It wasn’t Lily’s fault that her father had read out loud an email from Roger saying if Lily changed her mind, she knew where to find him. As soon as her father realized what it said, he’d stuffed the printed email into his pocket. But the memory made Oliver feel like his throat was on fire.

  If only Oliver hadn’t brought it up on the plane, the moment would have dissolved like the bubbles outside the church. But now Lily kept asking if something was wrong, and he couldn’t disguise his anguish. He remembered the photo of Lily and Roger in her parents’ den, and his stomach turned over.

  He ate muesli with yogurt and berries and wished he had waited for Lily to join him. He usually loved sitting with the sun streaming through the window and watching her do her exercises. But he’d woken with a tenseness in his neck and thought he should leave before they had an argument.

  “Excuse me, do you have a lighter?” a female voice asked.

  Oliver looked up and saw a blond woman wearing white shorts and a halter top. Turquoise earrings dangled from her ears, and she wore gold sandals.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t smoke,” Oliver said.

  “You’re American,” she replied and pulled out a chair. “Do you mind? The other tables are taken, and I’m desperate for an espresso.”

  “I do mind, actually.” Oliver shifted in his seat. “I’m married.”

  The woman took off her sunglasses and laughed. “You Americans are so surprising. Your movies are about sex and violence, but you can’t share a table or smoke a cigarette.”

  “I’m not accountable for Hollywood’s tastes.” Oliver turned back to his omelet. “Anyway, cigarettes will kill you.”

  “Being alive will kill you eventually.” She shrugged. She had some kind of Scandinavian accent, and her fingernails were painted pearl pink. “Americans are so puritanical. In Europe, husbands and wives breakfast with whoever they like without assuming it’s an invitation to a noon tryst.”

  “I didn’t think it was.” Oliver flushed. “I’m here on my honeymoon, and the only woman I want to talk to is my wife.”

  “Then why isn’t she with you?”

  “That’s a good question.” Oliver thought he couldn’t let Lily’s mother ruin their holiday. He tossed a wad of euros on the table and grabbed his jacket. “Excuse me, I have to go.”

  “But you haven’t eaten your breakfast,” the woman protested.

  “You can have it.” He turned away. “The fresh orange juice is excellent.”

  * * *

  He hurried along the sand and squinted into the sun. Lily had never given Roger any encouragement, and it was all in the past. Anyway, Oliver had plenty of old girlfriends. But they were tucked away in Michigan, and he didn’t have to worry about their sports cars roaring down Lombard Street.

  They were on their honeymoon in Portugal and they should be eating grilled squid and drinking Madeira, and making love on crisp sheets. And the scenery was spectacular. A wooden boat swayed at the shore and a young fisherman taught a woman how to fish. His hands were wrapped around her waist, and she tugged at the pole. She turned and laughed, and he realized it was Lily.

  “Bloody hell!” Oliver said out loud. He ran down to the shore and grabbed the fishing pole. “Get your hands off my wife.”

  “Oliver!” Lily exclaimed. “What are you doing?”

  “I thought you were in the room doing your deep knee bends, and instead you’re letting this fisherman behave like an octopus.” He fumed.

  “He was teaching me how to fish.” Lily’s eyes flashed.

  “You don’t need to know how to fish, they serve it to you at restaurants with a slice of lemon.” He waved the rod at the man. “I suggest you take this, or I’m going to shove it where it doesn’t belong.” />
  Lily said something to the man in Portuguese. She adjusted her straw hat and ran down the beach.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Oliver chased after her.

  “I was going to join you for breakfast, but you were busy with some model or flight attendant.” Lily turned around. “I decided to take a walk, and Carlos asked if I wanted to learn how to fish.”

  “She asked if I had a cigarette lighter,” Oliver protested. “And just because I was talking to a woman doesn’t mean you should strike up a friendship with a stranger.”

  “If you weren’t so moody, this wouldn’t have happened,” she snapped. “Every time you look at me, you’re wondering if I think I should have chosen Roger. I told you a million times, I’m in love with you and that’s why I married you.”

  “When you told me about Roger, I didn’t think anything about it,” he began. “But your mother mentions his name more often than she discusses the weather. Then your father read Roger’s email, and it was the last straw. Every face in that room looked like they thought you’d made a mistake.”

  “Isn’t my opinion the only one that matters?” Lily demanded. “If you’re jealous about every little thing, how will we survive?”

  “Can’t a woman ask me for a light for her cigarette?” He was suddenly angry. “And you’re lucky I discovered you before Carlos decided you’d learn to fish better from the back of his boat.”

  “You don’t smoke, and she still sat down with you,” Lily retorted. “And I would never get into a boat with a strange man.”

  “I’ve been out of sorts and I’m sorry.” He took her hand. “I love you and I can’t get over the fact that we’re married. Every morning I wake up and imagine I’m back at the train station in Naples, and it was all some incredible dream.”

  “Most of the time I’m so happy.” Her eyes filled with tears. “But we have to trust each other, or we don’t have anything.”