by Casey Dawes
She prayed her answer wasn’t a horrible mistake.
Chapter 5
One morning a week later, Elizabeth was back at work. She glanced around her spa. Her assistant, Lara, had done a good job keeping the store organized while she was away in Italy. The few boxes stacked by the door must have come in yesterday. Oh, well, may as well get back into the swing of things.
She sliced open the package and checked the contents — a new line of moisture creams with a high SPF factor. She needed to move these quickly before the winter rains came and people forgot that sun damage happened all year round. After rearranging some night creams on a shelf near the entrance, Elizabeth had room to lay out the new sun protection products. While she worked, she mused about Marcos, Sarah, launching a new line of lotions, and how it all fit together.
If Lara were capable of handling the spa so well, Elizabeth would have time to expand her business. Maybe she should open another day spa in Silicon Valley instead of creating a product line.
Her mind buzzed with ideas. She could become an influence to other women in the community; maybe get on the Chamber of Commerce board. Women needed to be more of a role model, showing young girls that they could do well by becoming entrepreneurs. As the dream got bigger, so did her energy.
She grabbed a scrap of paper and started a list of ideas.
“Morning,” Lara said as she sailed into the spa. “How was your trip?” An older divorced woman, Lara had lost her managerial job in Silicon Valley the year before and had been unable to find another until Elizabeth hired her.
“It was wonderful. And it looks like you’ve done a great job while I was away,” Elizabeth said.
Lara fussed with a scarf draped across a counter stand. “I treated it as if it was my own store and did the best I could. You’ll see sales are up.”
“I bet,” Elizabeth said. A faint niggling made her shoulders tense. She shrugged it off and pulled out one of the lotions she’d bought from the family store in Italy. “Thanks for caring so much for my spa. I got this for you. I hope you’ll enjoy it.”
Lara opened the package and the jar inside and sniffed the contents. “Mmm.” She spread the silky lotion on her skin. “Yummy. Are we going to sell this?”
Elizabeth shook her head. “Unfortunately, they don’t export. But I am hoping to create a line of Beauty by the Bay products. What do you think?”
“Isn’t that too much to take on?”
Elizabeth’s flood of ideas came careening to a halt. Too much? Investing in something new was a risk, but she could handle it, couldn’t she? Her stomach clenched with Lara’s doubt.
“I believe I can do it.” Her chin came up.
She had another thought. “Is launching a line of products going to be a problem for you, Lara? I was counting on you being my right-hand woman, handling employees, that kind of thing.”
Lara had walked over to the shelf with the moisturizers. She crammed the new products together and spread out the night cream. She turned and faced Elizabeth. “No, I don’t have a problem. It’s just kind of sudden, that’s all.”
Elizabeth tucked her hair behind her ears as she walked over to the shelf Lara had vacated. “It’ll be okay, you’ll see.” Her voice sounded like she was reassuring a small child.
“Sure, boss.” Lara went into the back room.
Elizabeth studied the shelf Lara had rearranged. What was up with her assistant? She’d need Lara to work extra hours so she’d have time to write a business plan to get a bank loan. Maybe she should leave the shelf the way Lara had arranged it.
Damn it. Beauty by the Bay belonged to her. She switched the moisturizers and night creams back to the way she’d set them in the morning.
“Say, Lara?” she called out. “I’m going to get some coffee for us. We need to go over the schedule for the next few weeks. I need time to write up some plans and see some bankers.”
Elizabeth’s stomach flipped one more time. Lara’s words reminded her of her mother’s doubts. Could she really pull this off? Or was her mother right — she’d thrown her life away when she’d gotten pregnant with Sarah.
• • •
At five o’clock that night, Annie arrived at Elizabeth’s house with fragrant Chinese cartons nestled in a plastic bag.
“Just what you need,” Annie announced. “Over-salted, calorie-laden yummy food after all that pasta in Italy! General Tso’s Chicken for you and Moo Shu Pork for me! Guaranteed to cure post-vacation blues.” She bustled into the kitchen where she set down the bags, tossed her purse on the counter and hung her windbreaker over the back of the chair. She opened a cupboard and grabbed a couple of plates.
Elizabeth laughed as she snatched up the jacket and purse and hung them on a rack near the back door. “I already set the table. Let’s eat.”
Annie stopped moving, looked at Elizabeth and rolled her eyes. “Does that mean I can actually put cartons of Chinese food on the table? I don’t have to put them in bowls?”
Elizabeth shook her head in mock horror. “No, that’s not what it means.” She pointed to the other counter. “Bowls are right there.” She smiled. It was good to have her light-hearted friend around.
Annie began to dish the aromatic food into the bowls Elizabeth had indicated. “What’s that?” Annie asked as she pointed to the ravioli press Elizabeth had hung on the wall.
“Something I picked up in Italy — it’s to make ravioli. I thought it would be pretty as a decoration.” And in case I ever lose my mind and decide to make ravioli. She grabbed serving spoons from a drawer. “Where’s your boyfriend tonight?”
“John’s having some sale at the bookstore and they needed the extra help. We went out last night and we’re going riding tomorrow. Ready?” Annie had the bowls of steaming food in her hands.
Elizabeth picked up a bowl of rice and plate of thin Chinese pancakes and followed her friend into the dining room.
As soon as they were seated, Annie said, “Tell me all about Italy! Did you find your Nonna’s house? Did you fall in love?”
“Okay, yes, and no.” Elizabeth said with a half-smile. “Italy was fabulous, Nonna’s house was very small and run down and I didn’t fall in love.” At least I don’t think I did.
“Wait. What was that?” Annie asked.
“What?”
“That smile. What was that about?”
“Nothing. I was just thinking about Italy. There’s a feeling there … I don’t know how to describe it. Maybe there is something to the phrase la dolce vita and we don’t understand it in this country.” She smiled. “But I had a fabulous inspiration!” She picked up a piece of chicken with her chopsticks and told Annie about her idea for a new product line.
“Sounds fabulous!”
“Do you really think I can pull it off?” Elizabeth poked her chicken with her chopsticks.
Annie leaned back and stared at Elizabeth. “Of course you can. Why would you think you couldn’t?”
“I’ve never tried anything this ambitious before. What if I can’t do it?” Elizabeth heard the doubt in her own voice.
“First of all,” Annie said, putting her wrapped food down, “you can do this. Second of all, in the extremely unlikely case you can’t make it happen, you’ll know you tried.”
Tried and failed. “Were you afraid when you quit your job?” Elizabeth asked.
Annie nodded. “Terrified. But it was worth it.” She smiled at Elizabeth. “But I bet you were afraid after Joe died, too.”
Elizabeth sighed as she remembered the dark days after her husband’s heart attack.
“Sorry,” Annie said. “Didn’t mean to bring up bad times. But I wanted to remind you how capable you are. You can do this.” She picked up her food and took another bite. “Now, how about you tell me about the man you met in Italy?”
“There’s no man.”
“Give me a break.”
“Oh, all right. I met a guy in Italy.”
Annie’s dropped the pancake back on the plat
e and clapped her hands. “I knew it! Tell me what happened! Every detail? Did he kiss you?”
Elizabeth laughed and told her friend about the dinner and the visit to the winery.
“Well?” Annie asked when she finished. “Did he kiss you?”
“Yes.”
“How was it?”
The deep blush began at Elizabeth’s cleavage and worked its way up to her cheeks.
“That good?” Annie asked.
“That good.” Elizabeth remembered the night Marcos had dropped them off at the hotel after the vineyard tour. He’d waited until Sarah had gone inside the hotel before planting a lingering kiss on her lips. The kiss had been all he attempted.
She wasn’t sure if she was relieved or annoyed.
“Have you heard from him? Is it serious? What’s his name?” Annie asked as she picked up her dishes and trailed Elizabeth to the kitchen.
“He lives in Italy. It can’t be serious. His name is Marcos.”
“Long distance relationships are the in thing. And wasn’t there that writer who met the guy in Bali? You both own your own businesses. You can make it work.”
A dull headache began to throb in Elizabeth’s temples. “It’s not that simple, Annie. I’m planning a big business expansion. I haven’t got time for a man. The two don’t mix. A woman can either run a business or a marriage, but not both.”
The garbage can lid clattered closed. “Where did you get that antiquated notion?”
“I don’t think it’s that old-fashioned. Men are real supportive when a woman starts her business, but I’ve heard far too many stories about women becoming successful and their husbands asking for a divorce.”
“Maybe … but I bet there’s lots of people who stay together, too.”
“I can’t take that risk.”
“That’s too bad. If anyone could use a good man in her life, it’s you.”
“I had Bobby.”
Annie shut the dishwasher. “Bobby was okay and he did love you, but he was a bit of a control freak. I can say that now that you’ve broken up.”
“Wow. I never knew you thought that.” Elizabeth pondered her friend’s statement. “But I think you’re right. Maybe that’s why I didn’t want to marry him.” She laughed, a sense of relief lifting her spirits. “Coffee?”
“Sure … but I can’t stay too late. John wants to get to the horses early in the morning — too early if you ask me. And, he wants to have breakfast first, so I have to get up, get ready and meet him at the Silver Spur at seven.”
“Why don’t you two just move in together? That way you could sleep in while he made breakfast.”
Annie pulled two coffee cups from the cabinet. “He’s old-fashioned. Doesn’t want to live together.”
Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. “Has he mentioned marriage?”
“We’ve only been together five months. Be real. He says we need time to get to know each other — a year at least.”
“Wow, that is old-fashioned. Are you telling me you haven’t even slept together?”
Annie grinned, a smile that lit up her pixie face. “He’s not that old-fashioned. Thank goodness! So what are you going to do about Marcos?”
Elizabeth groaned. She’d hoped the subject was closed.
“He’s coming to California in October to look at some land in Napa, and maybe here in the Santa Cruz Mountains. I tried to convince him not to come.” Elizabeth poured coffee. “But he’s insisting. I guess I’ll figure out what to do then.”
“I think you’re way over your head with him.”
“You can say that again.” Elizabeth had to figure out a way to convince him not to come to California.
“Do you still have that business card I gave you a few months ago? The one for my coach?” Annie asked after she sat on the couch and took a sip of coffee.
“Sure.” Elizabeth sat at the other end. Somewhere …
“Give the coach a call before he comes so you know what your options are. She may be able to help you with your business plans, too.”
“Maybe.” Elizabeth was doubtful. How could a life coach help with developing a product line?
After Annie left, Elizabeth walked into her office. The card was where most business cards went — tacked to her bulletin board. She unpinned it and fingered the stiff cardboard. Should she call?
It was time to take her life into her own hands. It was past time.
And she definitely needed help with Marcos.
Flicking on the computer monitor, she pulled up Carol Eos’ web site. She scanned through the woman’s qualifications and credentials. The coach seemed genuine, and she’d done wonders for Annie.
Before she could chicken out, Elizabeth clicked on the form to make an appointment.
• • •
The call from Carol Eos came around nine the next morning while Elizabeth was in the kitchen pouring a second cup of coffee. “I believe I know you,” Carol said after they’d exchanged hellos. “You’re Annie’s friend, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“She told me how supportive you were for her as she went through her own troubles this year. You must be a special friend.”
“I … I hope so.”
“Well, you are. Now, how can I help you?”
Elizabeth paused. Where to begin? She took a deep breath. “I broke up with my boyfriend, my mother died, my daughter is heading off in her own life, I’ve met a great guy, but he lives in Italy. Oh, and I want to produce my own line of products.”
“All that.”
“Yeah. All that.” Elizabeth laughed.
“What would you like to start with?”
Elizabeth was startled. She’d assumed the coach would lead the discussion. “Um … Marcos, I guess.”
“Marcos being the Italian?”
“Yes. I met him while I was over there on vacation. He’s coming here in October.”
“And you’re afraid.”
How could the woman tell that over the telephone line? But then Elizabeth realized the coach was right. She was afraid. “Yes.”
“Which are you afraid of — going to bed or falling in love?”
“Both.” Elizabeth sank into a kitchen chair. The coach didn’t pull any punches.
“Why are you afraid to take a chance?” Carol asked.
Elizabeth searched her mind for the answer. “When I was a teenager I took a chance with Joe — my husband. We had sex and I got pregnant. My mother … ” Elizabeth’s stomach began its familiar upheaval.
“Yes?”
“She made me feel so ashamed. She told me I’d disgraced the family and it was … it was a good thing we’d never go back to Italy since she wouldn’t be able to hold her head up.” Elizabeth remembered how small she’d felt while her mother yelled.
“And?”
“Joe and I got married and I had Sarah. Joe died when she was five. Heart attack.” Her life sounded so flat. When had she had time to live? Many of her friends had carefree twenties. Where were hers?
“So what happened with the boyfriend? When did he come into the picture?” Carol asked.
What had happened? Elizabeth searched her mind for the beginning of their relationship.
“Sarah was fifteen or sixteen, I think. Bobby was my financial advisor. After working together for a year, he asked me out. Sarah seemed old enough and we kept it discreet. He kind of became part of the family.”
“Why did you break up?”
Elizabeth paused. “I didn’t want to get married. He did. The idea of being married to him was stifling.” She giggled. “Annie told me last night she thought he was a control freak I’d never looked at him that way. Most of the time he was sweet and charming. But she’s right. Everything we did was his way.”
Carol let the silence linger, and Elizabeth thought about what she’d just said. She’d never realized how much Bobby had dictated their lives together.
And Joe had been the same.
She let out a breath of awareness.<
br />
“So why does Marcos scare you?” Carol asked again. “Do you think he’s controlling?”
“Maybe.” He’d certainly taken control of their time in Italy. But at the same time he’d given her space to express what she was feeling and thinking. What was the real problem?
“I don’t really know how to be with him. Will he be like Joe, Bobby and my family? He’s Italian. Don’t Italian men need to be the boss? Won’t he make me give up my business?”
“I’m quite sure that’s a stereotype,” Carol said.
“Probably. But … if he isn’t … then I don’t know what the relationship will be like? I mean, how do I act with him? How do I figure out what he wants?”
“How do you stay secure?” Carol asked.
The question stopped Elizabeth cold. She thought about growing up with her family. She’d always known what they expected and she complied — except for Joe, who’d been her one rebellion. She’d gotten back in line after the pregnancy.
When she knew what was expected, she knew what to do. Her life was stable … and dull.
“How do you feel secure when you don’t know what’s going on?” she asked.
“Security comes from inside of each of us. Everything around us, even relationships, don’t last forever. People die, as you know. Jobs are lost, like your friend, Annie. In the end, it’s between us and God, if you believe. Otherwise, you’re the bottom line.”
“But how can I rely on myself? I’ve never done anything right!” Elizabeth wailed.
“I suspect you know that’s not true. You’ve raised your daughter by yourself and kept a roof over your heads.”
“Why do I feel like a failure, then?” Elizabeth’s mind was beginning to whirl. She had a feeling the coach was going to blow her well-constructed world to bits.
“That’s what we’re going to work on.”
“What about Marcos?”
“We’ll see,” the coach said.
Chapter 6
Marcos’ mind wandered as he exited the snarled cars of Marseilles on the last leg of his journey to the Rhône Valley. The sun shone with the promise of later heat and traffic was light enough that he could enjoy the scenery, not that he could see it. He couldn’t rid himself of the images of Elizabeth sitting at the vineyard picnic table or the soft taste of her lips when he’d bid her farewell. He missed her already.