Love in a Victorian

by Lisa Norato

  Jamie didn’t know what to think. She had a hard time believing the worst of Rick, but where was he? He should be in the middle of preparing his gran’s cabbage casserole about now. Why would he agree to let Vera come over when he knew he had a date planned with Jamie? And why wasn’t he here to defend her against his mean-spirited ex?

  She couldn’t do this. No way would she engage in a catfight with Vera over a man she’d obviously misread.

  “No message,” Jamie said and left with her measly condiments.

  *

  Rick checked the time on his dash as he pulled onto Grange Avenue. Great. He was running late. Trying to read Gran’s handwriting to compile his shopping list had been a challenge all its own, and he had returned from the grocery without the paprika. So he had to go back out again, and while there, he thought, why not gather ingredients for a cheese tray? The least he could do was provide Jamie with something to tide her appetite while he attempted to recreate his gran’s cabbage casserole.

  And if he failed? Well, then at least they wouldn’t starve.

  He’d lost track of time selecting the perfect camembert, fresh berries and figs, whole grain crackers, and those garlic butter breadsticks he liked. And he couldn’t serve a cheese tray without a detour to a Federal Hill specialty shop for his favorite aged cheddar and a jar of their homemade pear and ginger chutney.

  He’d enjoyed several meals with Jamie’s family. Tonight, he wanted to share a taste of his own upbringing with her. He was looking forward to it, smiling with thoughts of her, when he noticed Vera’s Camry parked in front of his Victorian. His high spirits took a nose dive. What now? What possible reason could Vera have for showing up at his home? Tonight of all nights.

  All he could think was, Good thing Jamie hasn’t arrived yet.

  He’d taken off in such a hurry he had left his garage door open. Turning onto his driveway, he eased his BMW inside the garage, grabbed his grocery bags, closed the door and strode up his front walk. The harvest display had been pushed aside to allow room for a pair of slatted back rockers, painted in a red that matched the accent color of his window sashes. He hadn’t been gone that long, had he? He stood at the bottom of his porch steps, wondering what to make of it all, when the Victorian’s etched glass door creaked open.

  Vera stood on his threshold, in jeans and a fitted black turtleneck. “Hi, Rick. I heard you pull up.” Crossing her arms over her chest, she greeted him with one of those dazzling smiles she usually reserved for the camera.

  For the first time since they’d met, he found her striking beauty shallow. And was he going crazy or was she behaving as though she hadn’t recently broken up with him? Pretending he hadn’t told her last evening that he had no interest golfing with her or trying to revive a relationship they both knew was headed nowhere?

  He shook his head in disbelief, regretting he’d ever told her they should part as friends. “What are you doing in my house, Vera?”

  She stepped out onto the porch. “I still have the key you gave me, remember?”

  He’d completely forgotten about her key. “I’ll have it back now, then. Not that I don’t intend to change the locks anyway.” He climbed the steps to join her on the porch.

  She blocked his access. “I want to talk to you, Rick. Can we talk? Please? Just give me five minutes.” Lifting a hand, she gestured to the rockers. “Look, I brought you a peace offering. For not supporting your decision to choose where you wanted to live.”

  He couldn’t take his eyes off her wrist. “Is that my watch you’re wearing?”

  “I found it on your kitchen counter.”

  Right where he had left it to give Jamie. “So you thought you’d take it for yourself?”

  “No … I … got bored waiting and decided I’d try it on. You won the pair from the silent auction at the fundraiser, didn’t you?”

  “What do you want, Vera?” Last night she’d told him she had embellished the job offer in New York. In truth, it had been a step down, but it gave her the leverage she needed to negotiate a promotion from her current news station.

  “If I misled you, it was to force you to take our relationship more seriously,” she blurted.

  “Really? So, when you admitted to seeing other men while you were dating me, you weren’t telling the truth then, either?”

  “It was the truth. But it only happened once or twice and only because I felt you weren’t committed to us as a couple.”

  She was right, Rick thought, reflecting back. “When you think about it, Vera, neither one of us was committed. Not in any real sense. We might have presented ourselves as the perfect couple, but that’s as deep as it went. I think you were sincere when you ended our relationship. This isn’t about wanting me back or having feelings for me. Your ploy last night and these rockers are nothing but vanity. You don’t like that I’ve moved on so quickly. And maybe especially with someone I met while we were still together. You don’t like that you’re in between men at the moment, and you think you can string me along to fill the gap. But if I know you, it won’t be long until you find someone new.”

  She leveled an angry gaze at him, simmering, because she’d been found out.

  “Now, let me help you load these chairs into your car before my guest arrives,” he said.

  “A guest?”

  “Yes, Jamie’s coming for dinner, and I don’t want her finding you here. It’s bad enough I’m going to have to explain how her jack-o-lantern ended up in pieces.” He waited a pointed moment for Vera to own up to its destruction.

  She didn’t.

  “You were right, ” he said into her stony silence. “I have changed. This Victorian has changed me. Not just the house itself, but the experience of moving back into my childhood home. It’s made me remember my roots and the importance of family. I was brought up in a loving home, and that’s what I want for this house. I want to fill it with love. And I think I may have found it.”

  He had realized the strength of his feelings last night, as he watched Jamie dance with another man.

  Rick was surprised to see a smile on Vera’s face, even as smug as it was. She turned up her wrist and began to unhook the watch strap. “Keep the rockers,” she said, reaching into her jeans pocket. She stretched forth her hand to show him the key and sports watch before dropping them into one of his shopping bags. She shrugged. “What do I need with rocking chairs? There’s a whole world out there and I intend to enjoy it. Not sit on a porch and watch it pass me by. Have a good middle-aged life, Rick.”

  Rick stared in disbelief, watching her walk off the porch to her car, where she drove off without so much as a wave goodbye. What had just happened? He shook his head, unable to feel anything but relief she was gone. They’d had fun while it lasted, but it was over, and he hoped Vera finally understood that. He had to grin at her dogged determination to have her way, though. No real harm done, except she’d left him with another job of straightening out the porch before Jamie arrived.

  He’d better get started.

  He entered his house, calling for Boo Boo as he strode across the foyer and down the hall to the kitchen. She usually joined him on the island countertop, where she’d paw at his grocery bags for something of interest. Even after he had lined up the ingredients for his casserole and made a racket opening cupboards in search of the pots and utensils he needed, she still hadn’t made an appearance. She always came out to greet him or at least to peek around the doorway to see what he was up to.

  Then it occurred to him. She must’ve taken cover when Vera invaded the house with her chairs and deliverymen.

  He checked Boo Boo’s favorite hangouts and did a thorough sweep of the first floor. He was beginning to get unnerved at the feeling he was calling out to an empty house. He climbed to the second floor, and when he looked under his bed and found the space vacant, a hot rush of panic washed over him.

  Emotion stronger than anything he’d experienced in a long time raced through him. Fear. Guilt. Worry. The feelings
paralyzed him. Until now, he hadn’t realized how attached he’d grown to the small gray cat. His chest constricted in pain. He didn’t like this helpless feeling.

  He raced down the stairs and out the front door. He searched under the porch, behind the shrubbery and all around the house to the backyard, where he even checked up into the trees.

  Boo Boo had gone out before but never strayed beyond the front porch and not for very long. He’d stopped letting her out altogether weeks ago with the oncoming colder weather.

  The sun was setting. The night promised to be raw with a damp earthiness and a chilly wind. Rick wore no coat, yet he had broken a sweat with each heated breath he expelled in frustration. Vera. This was her fault. He fumed with anger as he paced to the front of his house, glancing frantically up and down the street.

  Pulling out his cell, he rang her, not sure she’d answer.

  To his relief, she did. “Ha. I knew you’d be sorry.”

  “Vera, where’s my cat?”

  “What?”

  “My cat! Boo Boo. She’s missing, and she was here when you broke into my house, so you must have seen her. Where is she?”

  “Wha— I don’t know. I never saw your cat.”

  His annoyance grew. She wasn’t taking this seriously. Dread chased a chill up his spine.

  He breathed. “I don’t mean to be short with you, but this is important. Let’s start over. It’s okay, Vera. Just tell me what happened. Did she get frightened and run out the door?”

  “No. As I said, I never saw her. I originally had the movers bring the rockers into the house, because I didn’t want you to see them right away. I wanted them to be a surprise. Then I decided they made a better impression outside on the porch. The door was open as they went in and out, but there was no cat. After they left, I walked into the kitchen to wait. I figured the cat knew to stay out of my way and I was grateful. I had no desire to get covered in cat fur.”

  She hesitated a moment, then said, “If she’s missing, I’m sorry.”

  “I want to believe that, Vera.” He felt sick.

  “But there is something you should probably know… .”

  “I knew it. What is it? If you’re holding something back and anything happens to Boo Boo, I’ll never forgive you.”

  He didn’t expect the silence that followed, but then again maybe he shouldn’t have been so brusque with her. Especially when he needed her cooperation.

  “I don’t know anything more about your cat, and that’s the truth. I’ve told you all I know. I’m sorry you don’t believe me. Bye, Rick.”

  “Wait! What did you want to tell me?”

  “Nothing. It’s not important.”

  “Come on, Vera.”

  She sighed. “You know, I don’t remember you ever looking at me the way you did Jamie last night.”

  And then she hung up.

  *

  Jamie blamed Stella. If her mother hadn’t interfered, if she’d stayed out of Jamie’s love life and kept her “feelings” to herself as Jamie had asked her to, this would be just another dateless Saturday night. She’d be slumped in front of the TV in sweats or pjs right about now, a little bored maybe, unless there was a really good movie playing, but she certainly wouldn’t be feeling any pain. She’d have no memory of a romantic evening with Rick, and she wouldn’t be living with the humiliation of letting herself fall for a man so obviously out of her league.

  And yet it was to her mamma that Jamie ran. La mamma é sempre la mamma. Your mother is always your mother … even when you’re upset with her. It was in her blood. Italian chicks gravitated to their moms when their hearts were wounded, because when it came to matters of the heart, a mamma knew how to comfort.

  She entered the restaurant through the back and stepped into the familiar chaos of Bellucci’s kitchen on a Saturday night. Over the activity and noise, Frank Sinatra was crooning “My Way,” what she secretly considered her grandpapa’s theme song, at least where his restaurant was concerned. The spices and aroma of Italian cuisine infused her airways, and her blood pressure dropped.

  She got some nods and smiles from the staff as she maneuvered through the stainless steel maze. They were too busy to stop and chat, which was fine with Jamie. She didn’t want to be alone but neither did she feel like explaining how she’d been stood up … or whatever that awful confrontation with Vera had been.

  No sign of Stella anywhere. Her brother Matt was rolling meatballs. He dropped them gently into a large pot of simmering sauce. A waitress who looked new stood trembling before her grandfather after passing him an order.

  “They wanna pepperoni pizza?” The staff stopped in their tracks at his bellow.

  Uh-oh. Jamie could sense the insult rising like steam off his shiny bald pate. Santo Bellucci served simple and flavorful dishes, prepared with love and inspired by his homeland and the meals he enjoyed as a boy. Good, honest cooking and fresh ingredients were his trademark. Uncle Tony he was not.

  The waitress shrugged. “I didn’t think it would be a problem. They’re just a couple of teenage girls.”

  “You are known for cooking off the menu to please your customers, Papa,” Jamie offered.

  Her grandfather glanced at her, surprised at her presence, then snorted in disgust. “Aay,” he moaned with a shake of his head. “They wanna pepperoni pizza, let them go visit the punks down the street that make pizza.”

  Jamie knew from experience he was referring to one of the many pizza chain restaurants that filled the shopping centers.

  Matt wiped his hands on his apron. “Sounds like they need a little help placing an order that will give them the best experience in our restaurant. I’ll go out and make a few suggestions.”

  “You?” Santo considered his grandson. He nodded approval. “Okay. Va bene. You go. Okay. Send the guy with the muscles. They gonna like you.” He waved a hand in the air. “Pretty soon, you gonna take over this whole place.”

  Matt, with his hot-blooded dark looks and biceps, untied his apron and tossed it at Jamie. He strode across the kitchen and through the serving door in his sweaty T-shirt.

  “Next time, you wear a shirt, wise guy,” Santo called after him.

  Her grandfather turned with a welcoming smile. He looked excited to see her until the moment he must have remembered she had other plans for this evening. His face fell. “What’re you doing here? What about your date with Rick?”

  Her bottom lip quivered. She’d have to shout over the hiss of the steamer, the sizzle of the sauté station, and the bubbling calamari in the fryer to be heard. And Jamie had no desire to recount for all the staff how she’d showed up at Rick’s door with a handful of garlic, only to find Miss Perfect with her two beautiful vintage rockers that actually matched the paint trim on Rick’s Victorian. And wearing the watch Jamie believed had been meant for her.

  Santo understood something was wrong. He nodded solemnly. He tried to comfort her the only way he knew how. “You want I make you something to eat?”

  Jamie willed herself not to cry. “No, thanks, Papa. Is mom around?”

  He threw a bracing arm around her. “Your mother, she out front. Why don’t you go wait in her office?”

  Jamie slipped away to the cheerfully decorated room and took a seat beside her mother’s desk. She glanced at the four celery green walls, at the painting created to look like a window overlooking an Italian piazza, the framed crayon drawings she and Matt had made as children, the photos of her grandmother and other family members. This was Stella’s retreat from the drama and activity of the kitchen, and yet its location allowed her an ear to everything that was going on. But it was still quiet enough for Jamie to hear the ring of her cell. Standing, she reached into her jean’s pocket and found Rick’s smiling face on the display. She frowned at the irritatingly handsome image and turned off her phone.

  “Cara mia! What is it? What’s happened? Matt told me you were here.” Stella swept into the office in a simple black and white dress covered with sketches of
romantic scenes of Venice. Jamie couldn’t help but wonder if maybe she’d inherited some of her mom’s Mediterranean verve and confidence — rather than it all going to Matt — she would be much better equipped romantically.

  She slumped back into her chair. Pathetic.

  Her mother grabbed her face and kissed her cheek before taking her own seat behind the desk. She wheeled her chair closer and sat on its edge, intent on Jamie’s every expression.

  Jamie explained her confrontation with Vera on Rick’s porch. As she was speaking, her grandfather entered. He didn’t say a word but placed a glass of red wine and a plate on the desktop. Some cheese, dressed roasted peppers, a meatball, two squid tubes overflowing with bread stuffing, and a small mound of penne. He raised a hand to ward off any protest, then gestured for Jamie to eat and left.

  Jamie shared a knowing smile with her mother.

  Stella picked up the fork and cut into one of the squid tubes. “I know this was meant for you, but I never get a chance to eat while I’m working.” Jamie had always admired the way her mother could slip a fork between her lips without smudging her lipstick. “Mmm, this is the special tonight. Delizioso. Do you think, Jamie, you might have panicked and ran away too soon? Before you even talked to Rick? There’s probably a nice meal waiting for you at that Victorian.”

  She stabbed a piece of penne, gesturing at Jamie. “I think maybe you let yourself get intimidated by that Vera woman.”

  Jamie twisted her fingers in her lap. “But Ma, isn’t it smart to be cautious? I mean, I don’t really know Rick’s intent and feelings for me. We’ve spent time together, but we’ve only been on one actual date. I’m far from his usual type. I could be nothing more than a new challenge for him. What if he gets bored? Maybe he’s already bored and is keeping his options open with Vera.”

  Her mother lay down the fork and pierced Jamie with her stare. “You’re a beautiful girl. A sweet, loving, beautiful girl. You don’t know what you have. That’s your problem.”

  In her dejected state, Jamie soaked up the compliment, even though it came from her mother, and picked off a bite of cheese. “You’ve always believed in Rick. What do you see in him?”