Summer by the Sea

by Susan Wiggs

  Rosa looked as fresh as a flower, standing there, smiling up at him. “I hope I didn’t wake you,” she said.

  He stifled another yawn. “Not at all.” He held open the door for her. “I make it a point to get up at 6:30 in the morning when I’m on vacation.”

  “Liar,” she said, marching past him with the basket. Something inside it smelled incredible, and he followed the fragrance into the kitchen.

  “Wow,” she said, “you’ve been busy.” She checked out the paint job on the wainscoting, the newly sanded and sealed floors, the painted cabinets.

  “Until 1:00 a.m. every day,” he said.

  “I would have called first,” she said, “but it was too early and I didn’t want to wake you.”

  He didn’t even try sorting out her logic. “Rosa, what’s going on?”

  “A picnic,” she announced, putting a handful of napkins into the basket. “A breakfast picnic, to be exact. We used to do this when we were kids, remember?”

  Hell, yes, he remembered.

  In the basket, he spotted a thermos of coffee and some rolls that were still steaming hot. “Couldn’t we just eat it here?”

  “Then it wouldn’t be a picnic.”

  “But it would be breakfast.” He had worked like a dog yesterday, and now that he was awake, he was starving.

  “That’s not the point,” she said and looked up at him brightly. “Ready?”

  He was physically incapable of saying no to this woman, or to food on any terms. Besides, he wanted to know what she was up to. The presence of food was a good sign. Maybe this was a peace offering. He offered a sleepy smile and picked up the basket. “Yeah. Lead on, MacDuff.”

  They went out the back and across the yard, which over the years had lost its spectacular lushness. Alex couldn’t help noticing the way Rosa’s tight red pants, cropped off just below the knee, hugged the finest ass he’d ever seen. Jennifer Lopez only aspired to have a butt like this.

  “You’re awfully quiet,” she remarked.

  He cleared his throat. “Still waking up. Do you do this often?”

  “Nearly every day. I get up early, I mean. If I don’t, the day is shot by midmorning. That’s when I head over to the restaurant.”

  His gaze lingered on her a moment longer. “Sleep deprivation agrees with you.”

  She slowed her pace and looked over her shoulder at him. “You think?”

  “No question.”

  They walked along the ancient path, which was overgrown by brambles and beach roses. “No one ever comes here,” she said. “No one ever has except—” She broke off and brushed a branch out of her way.

  “Except us,” he finished for her.

  People flocked to the beaches that had parking and easy access. But he had always preferred this all but inaccessible piece of paradise. This was remote, a world apart, the dunes bordered by an ancient, half-collapsed wooden fence with sand blown up against its base. There was no gate but a gap where the fence was down, and Rosa stepped through and along the slope toward the beach. The newly risen sun spread a glow of benediction across the water.

  Alex loved the feeling of privacy and privilege it gave him. He’d been a lot of places but none had ever quite matched the beach of his boyhood. There was a feeling of serenity here, of belonging. He wondered if Rosa understood how much she was a part of that, how important she’d been to the person he had become. He had never told her that, but he suspected he would one of these days, soon.

  “How about here?” She indicated a spot on the sand.

  “I’ve got a better idea,” he said, walking past the spot and moving closer to the water’s edge in the shadow of a huge rock. It was, he believed, the exact spot where they’d made love the first and only time. “How about here?”

  She looked him straight in the eye. “Here is fine.”

  They spread out the checked tablecloth and he opened the basket. Rosa set out the feast she’d brought—mascarpone and hot rolls whose fragrance had been teasing him all during the walk, a wedge of melon and something in a plastic container.

  “Coffee?” She held up the thermos.

  “Bless you. I take it black.”

  “I know. That’s how you ordered it at the restaurant.”

  He took a sip. “You have a good memory.”

  She smiled at him over the rim of her coffee cup. “Hungry?”

  “Starved.”

  “You’ll like this,” she said, setting out two plates. She served a frittata, a savory egg dish with herbs and cheese.

  Alex ate in silent ecstasy, plowing through two helpings of frittata, three rolls slathered with creamy mascarpone and half the melon. “You’re incredible,” he said.

  “I know,” she said, sitting back and admiring the sunrise. “It’s a gift.” She lifted her cup in his direction. “Aren’t you going to ask me why I went to all this trouble?”

  “Because you’re trying to seduce me,” he said with a grin. “And congratulations, it’s working.”

  “Dream on.”

  “Believe me, I do. Actually, I was curious, but I didn’t want you to change your mind and take it all away.”

  “I’ve never taken food away from a person in my life,” she said. “It’s to thank you for the dog.” Her voice trembled with emotion. “You see, my father never will.”

  Nor did Alex want his thanks. Ever. But Rosa’s gratitude he would take, any day of the week. “So it’s working out?”

  “Yes. Your friend Hollis is truly a miracle worker.”

  “She’s pretty incredible.”

  “She was such a snot when she was younger,” Rosa said.

  “People change,” he reminded her.

  She pulled her knees up to her chest. “In just a few days, that dog changed his life. I feel guilty for not coming up with this on my own long ago.”

  “He probably wouldn’t have agreed to it long ago.”

  “I was pretty upset when I found out Joey told you about my father’s troubles.”

  “I wish someone would have spoken up about my mother’s troubles,” he blurted out before he could stop himself.

  “Oh, Alex.” Her hand trembled a little as she touched his face. Rosa had the unique power to coax emotion from him. He didn’t know why he sought it out, except that it felt so real, unlike so many other things in his life.

  She took off her sunglasses and watched his face. “In a horrible way,” she said softly, “I was lucky to lose Mamma when I did. I’m sure she was a flawed human being, just like everyone else, but I was too little to see her flaws. Now when I remember her, she’s a saint.”

  “Your point being, of course, that I had the misfortune to know my mother’s flaws.”

  “Go ahead and get defensive. I’m not backing down. And that wasn’t misfortune. It was life. I suppose, if I’d known my mother longer, I would have known a more realistic picture. God, what I wouldn’t give to have her right here with me now, warts and all. You had thirty years with your mother. I envy that.”

  “And you had a mother you regard as a saint. I envy that.”

  She paused. He felt the tension straining between them.

  “I wonder, Alex... Have you thought about seeing someone...a psychologist?”

  “It’s a waste of time. I know damned well what my issues are.” He forced a smile. “This day started out so well.”

  “I didn’t come here intending to bring up your mother, but she’s always there. She always will be so long as you refuse to deal with what happened.”

  “Spare me the New Age homilies,” he said, then added, “please. I’m desperate here, Rosa. We need to change the subject.”

  A smile flickered across her mouth and he felt the tension ease. “This is not turning out the way I’d planned,” she s
aid.

  “How is it supposed to turn out?”

  “I wanted to bring you a delicious breakfast and sincerely thank you for helping my father, not upset you.”

  “I’m not upset,” he said. “I swear it.” To prove his point, he ate a third helping of frittata and finished off the orange juice. “Honestly,” he said, “this is the most pleasant breakfast I’ve ever had. Ever.”

  “Really?”

  “A beautiful sunrise, a beautiful woman, a meal fit for the gods.” If he could do this every day, he would never want another thing in life. And he hadn’t even had sex with her. Yet.

  He covered her hand with his. “Could you please pass the melon?”

  She got a little skittish then and took her hand away. “Sure.”

  Though he wasn’t really hungry anymore, he ate some and smiled at her. “When you feed me,” he said, “it’s like you’re coming on to me.”

  “Oh, please. I feed a hundred forty seatings a night.” But she blushed. He could see that immediately.

  “Not like this,” he said, leaning back on his elbows and crossing his legs at the ankles. He patted his now-supremely-satisfied belly.

  “Alex,” she said.

  “Mmm?”

  “What are you thinking about?”

  He put his hand on her thigh. “Having sex with you.”

  She scooted away from him on the blanket. “That’s asking for trouble.”

  “Come on, Rosa. It’s asking for the next natural step. There’s nothing standing in our way.”

  “Except ourselves. Oh, not to mention our friends, families and lives. It can’t work out for the same reason it didn’t work out the first time. The world won’t go away and leave us alone, Alex.”

  He edged closer to her. “Fine with me. Then let’s go away and leave the world behind.”

  “That’s just it. I’m not a jet-setter. I don’t want to be anywhere but here.”

  “You know, just because it isn’t easy doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be in love.”

  “You need more coffee.” She refilled his cup, her hand unsteady. “Now, run that by me again. It’s too early in the morning to decipher triple negatives.”

  “I want a second chance with you, Rosa. That’s all I’m saying.” He set aside the cup, then touched her cheek and let his fingers wander into her hair.

  “I thought you were saying something about sex.”

  “Well, that, too,” he admitted. “That comes with the second chance.”

  She took a cube of melon, closing her lips around it provocatively before popping it in her mouth. “You’re saying you want to have sex with me.”

  “Of course I do. Who wouldn’t?”

  “Alex!”

  “Sorry. I mean that as a compliment. You’re hot.”

  “And you want me because I’m hot?”

  “Actually, I’d want you even if you looked like a ling cod,” he said, then quickly backpedaled. “I mean, you don’t, but even if you did—ah, shit.” He abandoned talk, grabbed her and pulled her against him. Before she could push him away, he kissed her long and hard, the way he’d been wanting to ever since finding her again.

  Kisses had been invented for moments like this, when words failed but there was still so much to say. Her mouth was cool and sweet from the watermelon, and she felt perfect in his arms.

  When he pulled back, she looked a little dazed, her eyes unfocused and her mouth slightly puckered. Another good sign. “I guess,” she whispered, “I’m on board with the idea.”

  “With what idea?”

  “Sex. Isn’t that what we’re talking about?”

  “Oh, yeah,” he said, pressing her back on the blanket.

  She twisted away from him. “I didn’t mean here. It’s broad daylight.”

  “I thought all that changed with Vatican II.”

  She glared at him. “Not funny, Alex.”

  “Well, I don’t think it’s funny to offer me sex and then change your mind.”

  “I didn’t offer,” she said. “You asked.”

  “And you said okay.”

  “Did I?”

  “No, actually you said ‘I’m on board with the idea,’ which sounded like okay to me, until you started making it conditional—”

  “Of course it’s conditional,” she said. “All sex is.” She put the picnic things away in the basket. “Everything about this is complicated. After all that’s happened, I just don’t see how this can work.”

  “It’s simple, Rosa, but maybe you’re scared to try.”

  “We’re from two different worlds. Our friends don’t get along. Our families can’t stand each other. They never have and never will.”

  “I don’t want to have sex with them. Just you.”

  He was rewarded with an amused twitch of her mouth, which he probably wasn’t supposed to see.

  “Well?” he said.

  “We’re both adults now. We know how to set limits.”

  We know how to get past them, he thought.

  “Whatever the lady wants,” he said, and got up to help her fold the tablecloth.

  It was a start, at least. She really believed she could keep her emotional distance, even now. Alex grinned as he led the way back to the house by the sea. In some ways, he knew her better than she knew herself.

  Savory Frittata

  Always use naturally nested eggs laid by uncaged chickens. The eggs taste better, and the chickens will thank you.

  4 medium potatoes, scrubbed and diced fine

  6 large, fresh eggs

  1/4 cup cream

  3/4 cup chopped tomatoes

  1 small zucchini, grated

  1/4 sweet onion, chopped

  1 Tablespoon minced herbs, including oregano, thyme, flat-leaf parsley, red pepper flakes, garlic

  2 Tablespoons olive oil + 1 Tablespoon sweet butter

  salt and pepper to taste

  1 cup shredded cheese

  In a wide ovenproof skillet, grill the potatoes in olive oil and butter until browned. Add zucchini and onions, then tomatoes and herbs. Season with salt and pepper. Whisk the eggs together with cream and pour the mixture over potatoes. Sprinkle on the cheese. Bake at 400°F degrees for 25 minutes or until top is firm. Serve in wedges warm, or at room temperature.

  thirty-six

  Alex had become a fast walker, Rosa reflected as she followed him back to his house, taking two steps for every one of his. He seemed to be in a particular hurry this morning.

  In the kitchen, he set the basket on the counter. She went to the sink to start washing things but he stopped her, trapping her between him and the counter and turning her to face him.

  “Alex, I—”

  He interrupted her with a kiss, and it was like the one on the beach, the one that had melted her bones. When he came up for air, it was all she could do to keep her wits about her. “I’d better go,” she said.

  “Let’s go upstairs,” he whispered.

  She pushed against his chest but it was like a warm, immovable wall. “I don’t think so.”

  “You just said we were going to have sex.”

  Oh, God. She had, hadn’t she?

  “I meant...maybe at some unspecified point in the future...after we discuss it some more.”

  “I like this point.” He smiled down at her.

  He took her breath away—ocean-blue eyes, aristocratic features, lips she dreamed about, even though she’d never admit it. Everything inside her leaped up to say no, but when she was finally able to speak, what came out of her was “All right.”

  Upstairs in the big house, she stood face-to-face with him in an expansive, sun-flooded room with gleaming plank floors and a high antique bed, its linens looking deliciously rump
led, as though they still held his scent. She had the urge to dive headfirst into the bed. He kissed her again, backing her up against a bedpost and cupping her hips in both hands.

  She turned her head to whisper, “This isn’t what I came here for.”

  “Sometimes—” he touched her chin and brought her mouth back to his “—you just get a bonus.”

  His kisses made her lose track of time, of herself, of everything. He unhooked her top and undid the tie behind her neck. The look on his face made her feel like a goddess, and in that moment, she was a goner. And he was right. She had come here for this. With a sigh of surrender, she kissed him hard, hungrily, finally giving in to an urge that had been building all summer long. They left their clothes tangled together in a heap on the floor. He pressed her down on the bed and her hair fanned out on the pillow. She arched upward, reaching to pull him against her. She felt light-headed, barely able to think except for one thing that rang clear in her head. There were some things that simply didn’t change and never would. And one of them was that each time Alex Montgomery held her in his arms and kissed her, it was like coming home.

  * * *

  Rosa didn’t sleep or dream, but she drifted, there in his arms in the rumpled bed with the sun streaming over their entwined bodies. With her cheek pressed to his chest, she listened to the heavy thud of his heart. She didn’t want to think or talk or plan anything, and that was so unlike her. Somewhere a vintage clock clicked quietly, but she lost track of time and didn’t stir until she sensed a subtle twitching in his chest and raised her head to look at him.

  “It’s nothing,” he said, leaning over to rifle in the drawer of the bedside table. He took out an inhaler and put it to his mouth. Three deep breaths and a smile.

  “You’re sure?” she said.

  “Absolutely.” He curled a lock of her hair around his finger. “Any more questions?”

  “Mmm-mmm.” She stretched like a cat, her gaze drifting lazily around the room at the beautiful wainscoting, richly detailed and dark with a patina of age. The windowpanes had the wavy, brittle quality of old glass. This was such a fine house. She couldn’t believe he was getting rid of it. If this place was hers, she would stay here forever, filling the rooms with cut flowers, working in the kitchen with its view of the sea.