An Illusion of Trust (Sequel to The Brevity of Roses)

by Lewis, Linda Cassidy

“With fries,” I tell him.

  “Yum.”

  “I agree,” Jalal says. “Granny makes good fries.” He lifts Adam onto his shoulders. “Come on, Mama, you have my permission to have a Coke.”

  “Your permission?” I backhand his stomach and run for the door.

  “You will pay for that.”

  “Name your price.”

  “I will, Mrs. Vaziri. During their naptime.”

  Jennie shoos us out of the kitchen. In the dining room, Jalal settles Adam in a booster seat beside him, and I sit Mia Grace in a highchair next to my place. He waits with the kids while I get our drinks.

  When Jennie and Eduardo carry in the food, Adam points to the empty chair on his and Jalal’s side of the table. “Dardo, sit.”

  “Say please,” Jalal says and then explains that Adam is into gender identification.

  “Ah,” Jennie says, “so it’s boys against girls already, is it?” She gives Jalal a look.

  “I had nothing to do with it.”

  “You’re a man. That has everything to do with it.”

  Eduardo laughs at Jalal’s frown. “Have you been gone so long you forget she’s all bark and no bite?”

  Jennie bares her teeth at Eduardo. He winks at her.

  “Where’s your new girl?” I ask her.

  “She’s gone for the day. I close for a couple of hours every afternoon now.”

  “Good for you,” Jalal says.

  Jennie points at Eduardo, “I only got in the habit of staying open sixteen hours a day so this fool would stick around.”

  “You could have had me day and night long ago if you’d married me.”

  “Well, I did marry you, and now I have to close this place and get out of here just to get away from you.”

  “No fight,” Adam cries.

  Jennie gasps. “Oh, baby boy, we’re not fighting.”

  Eduardo ruffles Adam’s curls. “We love each other, buddy. We’re just pretending to fight, like a game.”

  “We won’t play that game anymore, Adam,” Jennie says.

  She’s really upset, so I kiss her cheek. “It’s okay.”

  Jalal tilts Adam’s face up to his. “You know how you like me to growl and chase you?” Adam nods. “It’s a game like that.”

  Adam beams. “Baba Daddy a tiger.”

  Jennie laughs and wipes her eyes. I feel terrible that we’re not visiting her as often as I’d promised.

  “Do you still close earlier at night?” Jalal asks.

  “We do,” Eduardo says, “and sometimes she doesn’t even come back for the dinner service.

  “How many times has that happened?” Jennie asks. “Count them on one hand.”

  Eduardo gives her a look. “Me and Victor cook, and I serve. We have a night girl for summer, but the two of us handled it ourselves many nights this past winter.”

  Jennie sighs. “Too many changes around here. Don left us, I married that one, and you two turned into responsible parents and then moved away. All my night owls—pftt.”

  It makes me sad to hear her say that, but Jalal is looking at Jennie more concerned than sad, and I wonder what he’s thinking. “You deserve to have a life outside this restaurant,” I say.

  “That’s what I tell her every day,“Eduardo says.

  “Listen,” I tell Jalal. “I miss that, the sound of the surf.” We’re lying in the bedroom with the windows open. He’s twisting a lock of my hair around his finger and I get a flash of the first time we had sex. Afterward, we were lying here exactly like this, and then he ruined it by calling me by her name.

  “Meredith,” he says.

  What the hell? I rise up, ready to slap him. He starts laughing. I do slap him then. “That wasn’t funny.”

  “I couldn’t resist.” He can barely get the words out between his laughter and my slapping, and then he pins me down and kisses me until I stop fighting him.

  “You read my mind,” I say.

  “It was easy to know what you were thinking. Same place, same hair, same woman who makes me crazed with desire.” He looks in my eyes, the way he used to when it was just the two of us, each lost and needing love more than life. For a moment, our minds really are one. “That seems so long ago,” he says. “I would die without you in my life.”

  Once, I would have laughed if a man said that to me, but not now. Jalal is not like any other man I’ve known. He means it when he says things like that, and I want him to mean it. I need him to mean it. I’m about to cry, and he knows it, so he lies back and wraps his arms around me. I’m crying and happy and never want to lose this moment. Ever.

  We have a history in Bahía, and that makes it home. The familiarity of sitting on this swing, beside Jalal, drinking wine and watching the moonlight flickering on the sea comforts like the afghan he’s wrapped around me. The memories I’ve formed in the last three years are the only ones of mine not tinged with pain or shame.

  He breaks the silence. “I think Jennie is depressed.”

  “We need to come back here more often.”

  “Do you think she would stay with us a few days after Adam’s birthday party?”

  “Come on, Jalal. You know she’d never close the restaurant during the height of tourist season.”

  “If she had more help—”

  “She can’t afford more help; she’s barely making a living off the place as it is.”

  “Let me talk to her about it.”

  Something in the way he says that reminds me of a suspicion I had before we married. Jalal owns several properties here, including Vincenza, and I wondered if that wasn’t the only restaurant. It will probably spoil the mood, but I have to ask. “Do you own Jennie’s?” He combs his fingers back through his hair, a sure sign he’s thinking how to answer. I feel, more than hear, him sigh.

  “I had an interest in it, yes.”

  “What do you mean, you had?” He doesn’t answer right away. I wait. Either he’ll tell me more or he’s not ready to discuss it. I’m learning there’s no use pushing him.

  “Jennie worked there for the previous owner. He was old and not in good health. For all practical purposes, she ran the place for years, and after the man died, she learned he had willed it to her. But he had let things deteriorate for quite a while, so before long she needed money to replace some kitchen equipment and make other repairs. At the time, my chef at Vincenza was a friend of hers, and when he mentioned it to me, I invested.”

  “When was this?”

  “About two years after I bought this house.”

  “Jennie never told me that. I mean, I knew she’d inherited the restaurant, but I didn’t know you became her partner.”

  “Well … there is a reason for that.”

  “She didn’t know it was you?”

  “Not until after we married.”

  “And then what? You sold your share back to her? You signed it over to her?”

  “Not exactly.” He pulls my glass closer and refills it.

  I take a sip and then another, and still he hasn’t explained his answer. “Come on, Jalal. You can’t leave me hanging like that.” He clinks his glass against mine. A toast? “What—” It hits me as soon as that word leaves my lips. “Me? I’m Jennie’s partner?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “You can’t do that without me knowing. I’d have to sign papers.”

  “You did.”

  “No, I—” But I did. I signed a stack of papers after we married. I didn’t read them all. I trusted Jalal. “That was sneaky. No wonder you shut me out of our finances.”

  “I never shut you out of anything. Our finances are just not an issue you need to be concerned with. That debate went on for a while, if you remember.”

  “Yes, and I agreed—just to keep the peace—but you know very well I still want to be involved. I think that’s something—” He holds up a hand and I’m about to tell him he can stuff that man of the house has the last say crap when I hear what he heard. Mia Grace is crying.

&
nbsp; Breathless, Jennie plops down beside me on the beach blanket. “I am too old … and too fat … to run around … in the sand … with a toddler.”

  Mia Grace turned from the breast at the sound of Jennie’s voice and now, though drowsy, she reaches for her Granny. I hand her off.

  “Go play with them,” she says, nodding at Adam and Jalal. “I’ll stay with this one.”

  “What were you and Jalal talking about?” I didn’t really need to ask. He must have told her what he told me last night. If he’d been trying to convince her to come visit us for a few days, I would have heard her protests from across the beach.

  “Oh, nothing much,” she says.

  Jennie doesn’t do evasion well. Her gaze is glued to the baby, and that’s obviously deliberate. “Jalal told me I’m your partner in the restaurant.” I can tell by the pure surprise in her eyes when she looks up at me the restaurant was not what they discussed.

  “I’m so glad he finally told you. It was hell keeping my mouth shut. Of course it’s not like you’re making any money on the deal.”

  “So, did he ask you to stay for a few days after the birthday party?” Again her surprise is convincing.

  “How could I do that?”

  “We could hire someone. Or give more hours to—”

  “Why is everyone conspiring to stop me working? That restaurant is my life.”

  “Well, it shouldn’t be. That was okay when you had no one, but now you have Eduardo and us.” I have more to say, but the thunder in her eyes shuts me up. While she cools off, I try to figure out what she and Jalal were talking about. I can’t stand secrets kept from me. It’s disrespectful. I’ll find out, one way or another.

  “Besides,” Jennie says, “you’ll have a houseful with Jalal’s family.”

  “I think only his parents are coming down. Maybe with his sister Goli. And his nephews Ryan and Jason are coming up from Cal Poly. We’ll have plenty of empty beds.”

  “Hmmph.”

  “Did you hear me say Korush will be there?” She smacks my leg in response, which tells me she’s considering it.

  Adam tackles me when Jalal chases him onto our blanket. “I going with Granny. Mee-Grays too.”

  “You are?” I look at Jalal and the lift of his brows asks me to agree.

  “Hit the pump, Mama,” Jennie says. “I’m giving you two a night off.”

  “It’s not milking time. I just fed her.”

  “We can take a bottle to her later then,” Jalal says, “when we go to Vincenza.”

  I’m desperate for excuses. “You still have the crib for Mia Grace, but where will Adam sleep?”

  “Oh, I’ll just have Eduardo string him upside down from the rafters, like a bat.”

  “Bat,” Adam repeats.

  “Baseball bat,” Jalal says and lifts him onto his shoulders and takes off running for the steps up from the beach. Adam’s laughter floats back to us like bubbles in a breeze.

  Jennie hands Mia Grace back to me and grunts and groans to her feet. “Trust me, Renee.”

  “You know I do, but this is the first she’ll be away from me overnight.” I stand.

  Jennie picks up the blanket, flapping it to knock off the sand. “This will be good for you, hon.”

  At least now I know what Jalal talked to her about. He’s planned a counseling session for our so-called night off. We’ll see if he gets his way.

  I’ll cry if I watch Jennie’s car drive away, so I start walking up the road in the opposite direction. Seconds later, Jalal falls into step and takes my hand. I’m trying to think of anything except the kids. “Do you miss running on the beach?” I ask him.

  “I do. Running along the shoreline is much easier on my knees.”

  “I miss walking here.” We lapse into one of our silences that, to me, is like sharing a dream. We moved to Coelho six months ago. Only six. It seems longer. But six whole months. Why have I not settled in there? I must not be trying hard enough. Jalal slows his pace. We’ve come to the end of the road, where my favorite house sits, not on the edge of the sea cliff but close enough for a dramatic view. He turns to head back, but I don’t.

  “Something wrong?” Jalal asks.

  I point to the house. “It looks brave, doesn’t it? Defiant.”

  “Does it?”

  “And lonely too, like it’s always waiting for someone to come home.”

  “Listen to you, a poet in the making.”

  A sign—FOR SALE—staked in front of the house makes the waiting real. I didn’t know the owners, but I’m sad to think of them leaving it—of how sad I would be to leave. I didn’t want to move to Coelho. There. I’ve admitted it. That’s why I haven’t settled in. Okay. Now I will. I have to. Done and done. Coelho is home. I turn away and we start walking back.

  “I remember walking up this road the first time,” I say. “I was trying to decide if my car breaking down was a sign I should stay in Bahía. Then I saw you and knew that was a sign.”

  “A sign of what?”

  “That I could be at peace here … like you.”

  “I was hardly at peace.”

  “But you looked like you were, sitting so still. Maybe it was a premonition.”

  We’re quiet for a moment, lost again in shared memory.

  “You looked hot,” we say at the same time and then laugh.

  Jalal puts his arm around my shoulders. “So I guess our whole relationship is based on sex.”

  “Not hardly. We knew each other forty-two days before we slept together.”

  “You kept count?”

  I shrug. Jalal stops us walking and kisses me. He brushes a windswept strand of hair off my brow. He’s gazing inward, and instinct says he’s contemplating something about Meredith. I didn’t intend for this conversation to turn that direction. I’m trying to think how to lighten the mood when he speaks.

  “I slept with Meredith an hour after I met her.”

  “Oh. So she was hotter than me?” I give an exaggerated huff and take off toward the house.

  “No. No.” He’s beside me in two strides. “I meant—”

  “Your relationship with Meredith was based on sex?”

  “Not that, either. It was …” Again he stops walking.

  Oh crap. He doesn’t realize I’m teasing and now he’s reliving his life with Meredith, trying to define their relationship.

  “Wait a minute,” he says and shakes his head, ridding it of distraction. “Meredith has nothing to do with this. We were talking about us.”

  I smile, relieved to have him back. “We were talking about how hot we are.”

  “Indeed.” He grins.

  “Race you to the house,” I say.

  We rouse ourselves at sunset. I fill a bottle for Mia Grace, and then we shower, dress, and arrive at Jennie’s in time to help put the kids to bed. I have just enough milk to nurse the baby to sleep while Jalal holds Adam, Jennie, and Eduardo spellbound with a spirited reading of Green Eggs and Ham. It’s a riot.

  Jalal hates to discuss anything serious over a meal, so I feel assured he won’t launch into a lecture on Fifty Reasons Why Renee Should Chill as a Mother while we’re at Vincenza. His good mood changes when we walk in. “Business is slow for a summer Friday,” he says.

  As selfish as it sounds, I hope that worry will make him forget the reason he arranged to ship our kids to Jennie’s house for the night. After we’re seated, Jalal gets up and selects his own wine, corks it, and pours. He takes one sip, excuses himself, and disappears into the kitchen. Yes. Lecture canceled, for sure. I’m pouring myself a second celebratory glass when he exits the kitchen—smiling. Damn.

  “A sunset concert in the park,” he explains. “After that, they are booked up for the rest of the evening.”

  The food is great, as usual. We talk mostly about the kids. Even though his parents are coming down for Adam’s party in three weeks, Jalal feels guilty that we’re not flying to Seattle next week to their annual Fourth of July celebration. “I know I prom
ised Maman we would come up for all the family events, but traveling with a baby and a toddler …” He shakes his head and pours the last inch of wine into his glass. I make a mental note to start a list of everything I’ll need to pack because I know he’s going to spring tickets on me at the last minute.

  The restaurant is crowded now and getting noisy, so we order creme brulee to go. We’re acting like responsible grown-ups, going home early. That makes me giggle. Or maybe it’s the wine.

  “Are you too drunk to drive?” I say when we get to the car. He looks at me like I’m insane.

  “I drank only a bit more than one glass, Renee.”

  “How many did I have?”

  “If you have to ask, you had too many.” He opens my door.

  “Uh-oh.”

  He grabs my arm and pulls me back. “If you are going to be sick, do not get into my car.”

  I shake my head. “I forgot my purse at the table.”

  He sighs and motions for me to get in the car. “You left your purse at home. Remember? It clashed with your dress.”

  I slide into the seat and close my eyes, enjoying the buzz. We don’t speak again until he turns onto our road. “This is your fault,” I say. “I used to be able to drink.”

  “Mia Grace will be weaned in a few months. You will get back up to speed then.” He parks the car and comes around to open my door.

  “If I’m not pregnant again.”

  “I am under strict orders from Jennie not to let that happen, so we need to discuss our options.”

  I stomp my foot. “Jennie is not the boss of me.”

  “Good lord,” Jalal says, shaking his head, but he can’t help laughing.

  He leads me in the house and to the kitchen. “Sit,” he says. “Do you want coffee or tea?”

  “I’m not really drunk,” I say. “Let’s stay up all night and drink wine, like we used to.”

  “And then pick up our children at dawn and feed your daughter the fine vintage you produced during this night of debauchery?”

  “You’re no fun.”

  When the coffee’s brewed, he fills two mugs, sets the dessert between us with two spoons, and takes the chair across from me. “So,” he says, “to continue our earlier discussion. You thought I was hot the first day, but when did you know you were in love with me?”