Love Caters All

by Nicci Carrera

  Garth Anderson was from a very rich old family. The kind who didn’t have marriages. They had mergers. Marriage was never in the cards for Maya and him, Rick suspected.

  Next, Rick typed H-u-g-h Y-a-t-e-s, the guy she was talking to earlier. Hugh was from Berkeley. He was loaded. New money this time. He had made his money in the restaurant business, a very difficult feat. Yates also showed up in the 100 Most Eligible Bachelors, listed higher than Rick.

  An acid taste filled Rick’s mouth. He left the library in time to check out the art show. He didn’t take enough time to go to museums, although he did browse the galleries in the residential-retail village where he lived in San Jose. He’d decorated his home with paintings from some of the galleries.

  The tents in the Lobster Cove main square featured fine arts. Several of the paintings drew his eye, but one sculpture he had to have. The ballerina sculpture had won the blue ribbon. The artist was Giselle Ulrich. Her bio said she lived right here in Lobster Cove. She had moved here because she found the natural beauty inspiring. The sculpture stood on a white pedestal from which hung a blue ribbon. The dancer’s chin was lifted, her arms reaching out behind her, lifting her gown. Her beatific face was lifted to the heavens. Her hands reached high up behind her back where they lifted a flowing costume that concealed the mechanics of suspension. The figure appeared to soar in the air. In some strange way, the sculpture reminded Rick of Maya. Not the sassy Maya he adored, but the inner Maya. The one who combined the spiritual light of her mother with the strength to soar.

  “It’s wonderful isn’t it?” A woman in her late 50s to early 60s, with neat gray-blonde hair had joined him in front of the sculpture. Her green eyes sparked with intelligence.

  “Yes, it is. I’ve never seen anything like it. Are you the artist?”

  She laughed slightly, with a humble shake of her head. “Oh, no. I don’t have the talent. I’m just a judge. I’m Ginny Brent.” She offered her hand.

  “Rick Nordan. Nice to meet you. Did you award this piece the blue ribbon?”

  “There was a panel, but yes, I voted for it.”

  “You have good taste.” Oops, that was either an obvious statement or an insult to an art judge. “Sorry, that’s obvious, or you wouldn’t be a judge.”

  “No offense taken! I’m so glad you approve of our choice. Are you from out of town?”

  “My accent gives that away.”

  Ginny smiled. “We east coasters are the ones usually accused of having an accent. Are you from California?”

  Rick nodded. “You pegged it. But you’re not from Maine, are you?”

  “New Hampshire. You have a good ear. Have you seen anything else you like here?”

  “Plenty. But I would like to acquire this one today. Is it for sale?”

  Ginny beamed. “Why yes, it is.”

  “How do I take care of that?”

  A half hour later Rick’s card was charged and a little gold card had been added to the pedestal. “Sold.”

  Rick sighed. This town was costing him a bundle. He had no regrets though, except for the loss of the good thing he had going with Maya. “Do you know where I can get off the beaten track for a cocktail?”

  “Oh yes,” Ginny said. “There’s Merlot’s Wine Bar, which has a great view of the harbor and a terrific wine list. It’s on Main at Oak.”

  “I was thinking hard liquor. Maybe a dive bar?”

  Ginny hesitated. With an overly bright smile, she said, “There’s Murphy’s on Oak.”

  “Thanks.”

  Rick headed out of the tents down Main Street. Sure enough, there was Merlot’s Wine Bar. It looked really nice. Ginny Brent must have expected someone who’d just spent a pile on a piece of fine art to want to go somewhere classy like Merlot’s. He’d love to, but only if he had Maya with him. Right now, he wanted to brood in the more classic manner, over a neat bourbon attended to by an old-fashioned bartender.

  A row of businesses lined Oak Street. Maggie’s Diner, where he’d met Sin and had breakfast on his first day, stood at the end near the harbor. Murphy’s was on the other end.

  The bar was rough, but comfortable, inside. The obligatory lobster decor consisted of several hanging from the walls. Only close scrutiny revealed they weren’t real. About a dozen old wooden tables stood on wood planked floors. Weathered wood planks also lined the walls. A few fishermen were sharing beers and fries at one of the tables. There was a jukebox, but nothing playing. Perfect. Not that Rick minded music, but he wasn’t in the mood.

  Rick took a spot by himself at the bar. The bartender was drying glasses nearby. “Evenin’,” he said. After Rick was seated, the man, whose name tag said David Hu, held a glass up to the light. “Get somethin’ for ya?” Hu resumed wiping.

  “Bourbon. Neat.”

  Hu delivered the medicine. Rick put it away. Hu replenished the drink then ambled back to the far end of the bar. Apparently he thought Rick was a man having a bad day rather than a habitual drinker, so he didn’t need to hover.

  Rick nursed the second shot. Only when it was gone did Hu return to busy himself with cleaning out the already-spotless drip trays directly in front of Rick.

  “Women,” Rick said.

  “Yep.” Hu focused on scrubbing behind the counter.

  “My friend just can’t figure out this woman.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “I mean one minute she’s all into him. The next minute she’s talking to this other guy.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Things just don’t add up. I mean I try to tell my friend, you gotta be careful. She could just be a gold digger.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “But I don’t know. Because I don’t know exactly who this other guy was. Other than being a real rich bastard. Problem is, she seems to go for rich bastards. Well, my friend…he’s a rich bastard.” Rick gave a dry laugh at his little inside joke.

  But all he got back was “Uh-huh,” and a darting glance.

  “Before my friend, she was dating this other rich bastard. Then again, she did explain the first one. As for my friend, well…he was the one who put the moves on her, not the other way around. The problem is the third thing. She really seemed to have a problem with my friend’s preference for having a pre-nup.”

  “Uh-oh.”

  “And—” Wait. Hu hadn’t said, Uh-huh. He’d said, Uh-oh. The bartender was off script!

  Hu shot him a wise look. “Well, you can keep getting yourself all wrapped around the axle wondering,” he added a flourish to the wiping of the glassware, “or you can take the unconventional approach. Actually talk to her.”

  Rick stared at Hu for a moment. Behind the bartender a giant mirror showed Rick’s mouth hanging open.

  “Yep.” He paid his tab, adding a twenty-dollar tip.

  ****

  Ugh, after such a nice time with Rick, Maya had left things with him on terrible terms. She took the van back to the truck to unload. She also had to prepare for Monday. Each car arriving in the parking lot captured her attention. But none of them were Rick, just hospital visitors and employees.

  Maya clung to the crazy hope that their fledgling relationship could somehow be restored. The hope fueled her through all the routine chores. Later that evening, she drove the van to Trenton to pick up some supplies at a warehouse store that stayed open late on Sundays.

  The bridge to the mainland on Route 3 passed over Thompson Island. A sudden impulse to take the exit to the nature preserve overwhelmed Maya.

  She parked by the visitor’s center. The entry point to the Arcadia National Park, Thompson Island had plenty of activity but also a lovely park area where she could relax.

  Maya picked her way down the path leading to a picnic table set in tufts of wild grass next to a pine tree and two aspens. The table sat on a slight slope and leaned a bit toward the water. The water around the island was very shallow, with part of the island submerged at high tide. Small sea life thrived in the pools left behind by the ebbing tide.
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  Maya took several deep breaths. The pine tree added a heady edge to the salt air. Below, pools of seawater mirrored the soft oranges of sunset.

  Since Papá drowned, Maya didn’t spend much time outdoors. She pressed a hand to her chest but failed to quell the sharp pain.

  Papá would have hated knowing his eldest daughter had lost her love of the water. She owed him to try to enjoy the ocean. Here the water brought life, not death. Tides filled green-draped purple rocks like liquid breath. Sea life tinged fresh breezes with the bite of brine. Wind rustled the hardy pine whose roots clung to the embankment. Small birds pecked for dinner in the island’s thin grasses. The breezes cooled skin warmed by the late afternoon sun.

  Maya drank some water. Was she wrong to want the fairy tale? Was that even what she wanted? No, not really. Rick’s idea of marriage as a financial contract switched the whole relationship from love to business. But was a pre-nup all that bad? Maybe she was being unreasonable. Rick’s kind moved in a different world. She also didn’t know anything about his situation. Instead she’d leapt to conclusions. Had the woman—Loraine—really been after his money? Maybe Rick was right to protect himself. After all, that Naomi was after his money.

  While her head tried to reason, her gut whispered that he was incapable of trust. Because of his mother’s abandonment? Her heart sank, weighted with guilt. She needed to be more understanding.

  Maya hadn’t understood or demonstrated an open mind. As a result, a palpable chill had fallen over their relationship. They had gone their separate ways. Hopefully she had at least been courteous. She owed him more than a measly thank-you for his help.

  Maya climbed back in the van, still trying to figure out her feelings. She had acted angry about the pre-nup when it was none of her business. She had also signaled big red lights to Rick. She wasn’t angry any more, though. The pain of losing him unlocked a pain long buried in her heart. How could losing Rick have anything to do with losing Papá? She was confused.

  Having Rick around had given her new enthusiasm for work. Now the business just seemed like drudgery. The truth was, her life was a grind. Rick’s appearance made her feel important. Loved. Not to mention entertained. She smiled. His words came back to her and her heart squeezed. Was there any hope for them?

  Maya wandered back to her van. In Trenton, she purchased all the supplies on her checklist while their interactions played through her mind. The painful moments had the most airtime. Rick said he thought he loved her. He agreed theirs was a short-term thing. His eyes betrayed hurt when she shook his hand. She tried to convince herself he would call the next day.

  ****

  Rick had cut himself off after two at Murphy’s. Maggie’s Diner provided a solid dinner after which he picked his car up at the hospital parking lot. He had a lot to work out in his mind and didn’t sleep much as a result.

  The next day Rick headed to Maya’s house to confess his feelings, his concerns, even his jealousy. The bartender had made him see the error of his ways. Or at least he had made Rick realize he needed to talk to Maya, find out if the pre-nup idea had upset her, and if so, why. Once he’d made up his mind to talk to her, he’d felt lighter.

  He climbed out of his car. Forest sounds filled the evening air. A bird call sounded like “Drink your tea!” He climbed the wooden steps to the sound of a low murmur inside the house. The voices suddenly rose to an audible pitch. He didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but the words shot out the open windows like bullets.

  “I can’t believe you would go all the way to the West Coast to get a business degree only to come back here and get involved with a player. Because that’s all Jason is. A player. He’ll hurt you and destroy the opportunities we worked so hard for.” Maya’s usually low sensuous voice was raised. She sounded like a stressed-out mother yelling at her wayward kid.

  “Who’s calling who a player, Maya? You just don’t think Jason’s as good as Rick Nordan. Rick could sure keep you in fancy shoes, Maya. What about Bachelor number three? Hugh Yates? He could keep you in fancy shoes too.”

  He was Bachelor Number Two? Rick’s heart pounded in his head; his feet moved backwards off the deck.

  “Did you hear something?”

  He was almost to his car when Maya’s voice came from behind. “Rick?”

  She stood on the edge of the porch, well dressed as usual, in high heels. Her dark hair gleamed in the sunlight. The last time he’d seen her hair down had been when it was spread across his pillow. She’d seemed so different then, so real.

  She tiptoed down the stairs, starting toward him. The way she moved her hips in those heels and tight skirt stirred attraction that wasn’t supposed to happen right now, because it was over.

  “Where are you going?” Maya said, confusion in her eyes.

  “Home.”

  “You’re still booked for four more days.”

  “This place has lost its appeal.”

  “Wait a minute. You’re this angry because I gave you the cold shoulder after I heard about the pre-nup? I’m sorry. I overreacted. Pre-nups make perfect sense for people like you. But you’re leaving because of that?”

  “People like me?” He lowered his gaze to her expensive footwear. “Don’t worry. You don’t need me to keep you in shoes. You can always warm up bachelor number three.”

  Maya’s mouth fell open. She snapped it shut. “What you may have just heard from Cara—” Maya’s voice broke—“is not true.”

  “Sure, Maya.”

  Her expression went from pleading to furious. His favorite look on her…unfortunately.

  “You can’t even give me the benefit of the doubt? Well—” Maya sucked in oxygen. Her arm drew back. “People who wear Ferragamos,” she pointed a bandaged index finger at his shoes, “shouldn’t throw shoe polish!”

  If he weren’t so mad, he would have laughed. The two feelings sharing shelf-space inside him was agony. “Goodbye, Maya.” He pivoted on the axis of his pain and walked away.

  The slam of his car door flushed a flock of grouse from the edge of the forest. By the time he reached the end of the driveway, Maya stood on the path, her hands loose at her sides. Her big brown eyes were wide. Tears streamed down her face.

  “Save it,” he muttered to the rearview mirror before shifting his focus to the road.

  Chapter Eight

  Rick left without saying goodbye. The bill was paid, the house neat.

  Two weeks later, on a hot July day, when it would have been very nice to sit on the beach with her bare feet in the water, Maya stood over a hot burner in her truck watching greens wilt in a pan. The crunch going out of the garden veggies was a lot like her life.

  Fortunately, Jason had the day off. Maya had to work twice as hard, but it was a relief to be alone.

  The first days after Rick left were the worst. Her family left her alone. Avoided her like the plague more like. What could they say? Hers wasn’t the kind of pain a quick hug or a platitude would fix. They knew her. Maya needed to work. Once there, however, she couldn’t face Jason, having discouraged Cara from dating him. Fortunately, Jason was professional about his job; if Cara had told Jason Maya’s opinion, or about her blow-up with Rick, Jason didn’t let on. He just worked.

  Maya couldn’t eat. Everything on her menu was unappealing. Seafood recalled their first argument about his food allergy, which brought up too many emotions. Laughter at the silliness of their arguments, sorrow over his past, most of all…regret. With seafood at least temporarily unpleasant, Maya introduced her heritage food all at once. Customers complained of whiplash at first, but they adjusted to the new fare. Maybe it was only because Love Caters All had a captive audience, but people raved about the change-up. Maya still did basic eggs. But now the eggs could come with black beans and plantains. She kept the blueberry muffins, an essential for Lobster Covians, but now Love Caters All offered churros con chocolat in addition.

  Maya forced herself through the emotions of grief using her growing expertise. Last summer, wit
h Garth, she’d realized the last stage was the worst, the stage when she had to face her own role in what had happened. Maya had gone into the relationship with Rick knowing exactly what she was getting into. According to the definition of insanity, doing the same thing and expecting it to turn out differently…well, whatever. She was done with being crazy.

  Maya held a dry cornhusk under the faucet. The touch of Rick’s fingertips on her skin had been a bit like these rough surfaces. She laid the corn leaves out in an orderly procession across the cutting board.

  She’d turn lemonade into lemons—er, lemons into lemonade—somehow. Of course she would. She was an entrepreneur. She would use this disappointment to sharpen her focus, to prove she was valuable. Someone to be respected. A woman of substance. Maya’s chef’s knife made a rat-a-tat-tat sound as she diced carrots into symmetrical little squares.

  Reading her mother’s books as a pre-teen cultivated her love of books. Now, even books were tinged with sorrow, though. Rick had seen her love of learning. He’d acknowledged her abilities. She didn’t have anyone who cared whether she reached her potential now.

  While cleaning the house after Rick left, Maya found Seducing Sarah in the nightstand drawer. They could have had so much fun together. Why did it all break down?

  Maybe it was time for her to take herself seriously, to reach her potential because she wanted to. Not because it was the right thing to do for the McClintocks, though they were never far from her mind, with Eugenia’s heart attack scare. Not because some man said to go for it. But because she, Maya Cruz, was young, had a cooking degree, business savvy, and a lot to offer. While she made it—because she was a woman of substance, not a man—she would take care of her family and her community. There was the difference between her and Rick. She could make something of herself while still taking care of her own. She could still maintain connections. She would be better than Rick.