by Cate Tiernan
“Thought you might not come in,” he muttered, kneeling right by my legs to put dishes on the shelves beneath the counter. I stepped back and handed the customer her scone, then took another order.
While the blender was going, I said, “Sorry I’m late. Lost track of time.” It was a relief to focus on pouring drinks, remembering recipes and procedures, cleaning equipment. Rafael didn’t say anything more to me, and I ignored him, which was easy because he stayed in the back. Lately he’d been cleaning up the large, professional kitchen that no one used. I wondered if he was planning on selling all the equipment.
At nine o’clock Rafael came out again. “Everything okay?” he asked Talia.
“Sure,” she said.
“Okay, I’m taking off.” He stood there, not leaving, until I looked over at him. “Talk to you later,” he said, seeming to mean only me.
I didn’t respond, just asked the next person in line what she wanted. Finally, out of the corner of my eye I saw him leave and heard the back door shut behind him. Whatever.
An hour later the front room had calmed down and only eight tables were occupied out of thirty-two. Talia and I used the time to clean things, organize, take inventory of what we had up front, refill the napkin and silverware bins. Work like this was predictable, tidy, and satisfying.
I was sweeping around the counter area when the doorbell jingled and I looked up to see Matéo, Aly, Dana, and Alex coming in.
“Hey!” I said. “What are you doing here?”
“We just had dinner at Benito’s,” Aly said, “and decided to come see you for coffee and dessert.”
“Yay,” I said, putting the broom away. “This is the highlight of my day. Talia, this is my cousin, Matéo, and my friends Aly, Dana, and Alex.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Talia said, giving our sugar canisters a final swipe. “Boy, where did you get that red hair from?”
I grinned at Matéo. He’d heard my stories about Talia.
“My dad was Irish,” he answered, smiling. “Are the cream-cheese brownies good?”
“Yeah, they’re good,” I said. I didn’t say that a touch more cream cheese would be even better. Basically, I found fault with almost every baked item we had, thinking of what I would have done differently. “I have personally sampled our wares in order to provide the most accurate customer service possible.”
“You’re so conscientious,” Matéo said, and I grinned.
“How’s the pumpkin spice latte?” Dana asked.
“It’s good,” I said. “Very autumny. And the pumpkin bread is good too.” Though I would have used pecans instead of walnuts.
“Bring it!” Dana said. “Carb me up!” Laughing, I started on her latte.
Matéo and Aly ordered cappuccinos while Alex was still pondering his choices.
“You guys go sit down,” I told them. “I’ll bring your stuff to you.”
With Dana leading the way, they chose a table not far from the mural. They’d heard about it from me, and now I saw them examining it. I quickly filled two espresso portafilters and locked them in place, then poured cold milk into a small silver pitcher for the steam wand.
“Hey,” I said to Alex. “Did you have fun at the river yesterday?” Had that been only yesterday?
Alex was examining his choices through the glass, but looked up and smiled. “I would have had more fun if you’d been there,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows with fake flirtiness. It was so overdone that I laughed. His dark brown hair hadn’t been cut in ages, and it curled down onto the collar of his purple button-down shirt. His black jeans had been ironed, and I bet he was wearing those narrow-toed Italian shoes he loved. What a peacock.
“I’m sure,” I said to Alex. “Do you know what you want yet?” Moving the steam wand, I put it into the small pitcher of milk and turned it on.
“If I can’t have you, then I guess a double espresso and a chocolate torte will have to do,” he said, looking sad.
“Uh-huh,” I said. “That’s about as good as you’re going to get.”
Alex laughed and stepped back, and I shot him a grin. There wasn’t any real weight behind his flirting, which was why it was fun. Talia finished wiping the glass shelves behind us, but I felt her glancing at me. I would have to explain Alex to her.
Behind me the espresso machine quit hissing and I quickly fixed two cappuccinos, frothing the milk and sprinkling cinnamon on top. I got Matéo’s brownie, Aly’s palmier, and Dana’s pumpkin bread and brought it all over to their table.
“Thank you, ma’am,” said Dana. “This looks perfect.”
“Oh, Vivi, Téo told me about the missing heart in New York,” Aly said sympathetically. “Have you heard back from the reporter?”
I shook my head. “I haven’t checked since I’ve been here, but I don’t think so. It’s weird, isn’t it? And I feel like, okay, it’s happening in New York; that’s far away. Can we relax? Then I feel awful.”
Aly sighed. “I know what you mean. We can talk about it more later. But . . . is Rafael here?” she asked in a low voice. “We wanted to give him a look-over, see if we could answer any questions for you.” Like if he was haguaro.
“That’s a brilliant idea, but he’s already gone for the evening,” I said regretfully. “But let’s definitely try to get you in here sometime when he’s here. That would be great.”
Matéo, Aly, Dana, and Alex stayed for almost an hour. Every once in a while I glanced over to make sure they didn’t need anything, and once or twice Alex winked or blew me a kiss, trying to rattle me. I just rolled my eyes.
Finally they got up to leave. Aly came to hug me and said, “See you at home soon, okay?”
“Okay,” I said. “Thanks for coming in.”
The place seemed quite empty without them, and I started the end-of-evening putting away and cleaning up.
“They seem nice,” Talia said.
“They are really nice,” I said. “Matéo’s the cousin I live with. Aly’s his girlfriend. Dana is another one of our roommates, and Alex is Aly’s brother.”
“He sure does seem sweet on you,” said Talia, and I groaned inwardly. “Does he live with you too?”
“No, he doesn’t. And he was just joking,” I said quickly. “There’s nothing between us.”
By midnight the rest of the customers had left, and Talia locked the front door and turned off the outside lights to show we were closed. We finished cleaning up, putting chairs upside down on tables so we could mop, etc.
We were fast and efficient, and walked out to the parking lot by twelve thirty.
“Good night, honey,” said Talia, her can of spray mace in her hand. “You drive careful, you hear?”
“You too, Talia. Night.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
THANKSGIVING HAD BEEN THE ONE day my parents and I didn’t argue. Maybe because it was a purely American holiday not related in any way to our heritage. Maybe because we all liked food. I don’t know. But it was a day of truce for us, watching the Macy’s parade, cooking all day, stuffing ourselves that evening, living on pie for days afterward.
This Thanksgiving Jennifer was staying in New York, and other than the family book that I needed to search for, I didn’t really have a reason to go home. I was starting to want things from my house—my baking supplies, warmer clothes, some favorite DVDs—but so far nothing had been worth going back for. When Coco had suggested having a big Thanksgiving here, I’d been happy to agree.
Together Coco and I had planned the menu and assigned people chores. Doing something besides mooning over Rafael was a welcome change. Consulting with Matéo, we’d agreed to ask Charlotte; Tink’s boyfriend, Peter; Alex; and a friend of Dana’s, Michelle. Partly for fun, and partly to have something totally occupying my time and imagination, I decided to get really ambitious with the cooking, and Coco had been totally into it.
Ro’s was going to be closed on Thanksgiving Day, but I was forced to ask Rafael for Wednesday off. During a lull on Monday night I
left Talia at the front counter and went down the hall to knock on the office door.
It opened immediately and Rafael was right there. The room was dark behind him.
“Do you have a minute?” I asked.
Nodding, he stepped backward and turned on the office light. That was when I saw he had his backpack over one shoulder and had obviously been about to leave. He started to close the door behind me, and I said, “That’s okay—this isn’t private.”
Keeping his eyes on me, he shut the door and leaned against it.
“Really, I just wanted to check in,” I said briskly. “Joey has agreed to switch shifts with me on Wednesday night. Talia has off too, and she’s gotten Kathy to cover for her. So it would be Kathy and Joey. Is that okay?”
Of course it should be okay.
“Why do you want Wednesday off?” he asked.
“It’s the day before Thanksgiving. We’re having a bunch of people for dinner, and I need to cook.”
I made myself meet his beautiful green eyes calmly and not turn away. As usual, he looked like he was having a hundred thoughts that he couldn’t express.
“I didn’t know you had a boyfriend” was what came out of his mouth.
“What?”
“Your boyfriend, Alex.”
Oh, thank you, Talia. Because I need this.
“I don’t have a boyfriend. Alex is my friend’s brother.”
“It sounds like he wants you.” Rafael blinked, as if he hadn’t meant to say that.
Anger ignited in me: at Alex, for his stupid flirting; at Talia, for gossiping; and at Rafael, for daring to even question me about this. “Yes,” I said tightly. “I believe he does. No one wants to actually date me, but guys keep wanting to get in my pants.”
In a split second his anger mirrored mine. “I want to date you,” he snapped. “It’s just—”
“Oh, my gods,” I snapped back. “Here you go again with the ‘I just,’ ‘you don’t,’ ‘I can’t,’ ‘it isn’t’ crap again! You’re so full of it! I know what you want from me, and you can go screw yourself!”
His lips were pressed together; his eyes were dark and narrowed. Tension radiated from his lean, muscled body, the body I remembered all too well.
“You have no idea what I want from you,” he said in a low, rough voice.
I crossed my arms and almost snorted. “Trust me, I got the picture. Do I have Wednesday off or not?”
Seconds passed as we stared angrily at each other. The really sad part was that I wanted to reach out and grab him again, like I had in the park. I could push him down on the desk, and—
“You’re having people in for Thanksgiving?” he asked.
I blinked several times, trying to jump into the new conversation. “Yes.”
“You’re cooking for everyone?”
Jeezum. “Yes. My friend and I are cooking.”
Silence. He was still leaning against the door. I was afraid to push past him, as if the slightest touch would make every defense I had crumble.
“That sounds fun,” he said.
Whaat? “Yes, I think it will be,” I said after a second. “What are you doing for Thanksgiving?” I had not meant to say that. Rafael and I were made for each other. Gods.
His surprise mirrored mine. “I’m going to my sister’s, in New Hampshire.”
The idea of Rafael having a sister was somehow shocking. He seemed like he’d been hatched from a spiky dragon egg or something.
“Is she at school there?” I couldn’t help myself.
“No,” he said. “She’s a pediatrician. She has a couple of kids. And a husband. We go to her house because it’s big and there’s usually snow, which is still a novelty.”
My mouth actually dropped open. Brooding, mysterious, angry Rafael was a little brother. His sister sounded totally normal. This was too fascinating.
“Who else goes?”
He took a breath and seemed like he was about to tell me it was none of my business, which of course it wasn’t, but then he said, “My two other sisters who live in America. We usually go.”
“You have two other sisters? Three sisters?”
A corner of Rafael’s finely carved mouth turned up. “Actually, I have four sisters. My little sister lives with my parents in Mérida, Mexico.”
“You have four sisters. Are you the only boy?”
“Yeah. My dad was so relieved. He’s pretty traditional.”
Had my dad been disappointed that I was a girl and they’d never had more kids? I would probably never know. Rafael had four sisters. I tried to imagine him younger, surrounded by girls, but it was impossible to come up with images.
“How come you’re not going home for Thanksgiving?” he asked. “Are your parents coming to your cousin’s?”
It had been only six months, and it still caught me off guard. It had been six months.
“Um . . . my parents . . . uh, died in an accident last May. I don’t have any siblings,” I said, getting the words out. “It was just me, so I came to stay with my cousin for a while.”
“I’m sorry,” Rafael said, frowning. “I’m really sorry. That’s awful.”
“Mm. Well, I’m glad I have Matéo, and Aly.”
“Yeah. And you have to cook.”
“Uh-huh. So it’s okay if I take Wednesday off?” Just like that we were back to boss and employee, but I’d had a vision of him that was completely new, and I intended to savor it later.
“Yeah, of course,” he said. “No problem.”
“Okay.” I looked at the door that he was still blocking and hoped he wouldn’t do anything that would cause me to completely disgrace myself. Like if he made the slightest move toward me. That would be bad.
After a moment of hesitation he turned the doorknob and got out of the way. I went through before I had a chance to change my mind.
• • •
“This looks incredible,” Tink said, and Peter nodded.
“Everyone find your name card,” I instructed. Suzanne had gone Martha Stewart on us and made beautiful calligraphy name cards that she had cunningly stuck in slits in tiny lady apples. She’d also made the amazing centerpiece of pine cones, pomegranates, orange persimmons, and dark purple grapes.
Matéo had searched for and found his mother’s best tablecloth. He’d also found crystal candlesticks and other holiday serving pieces in the big credenza in the dining room. I got the impression that last Thanksgiving they hadn’t done anything—it had been the first one since his parents had died, and he wouldn’t have felt very thankful. Gods knew, if I had been at home by myself, I’d have been doing nothing.
“Can we dig in?” Dana asked. Her friend Michelle was from Mississippi and seemed nice but very shy. I assumed she was a haguara, and I couldn’t imagine the delicate, timid jaguar she would become.
“First, let’s all sit down, join hands, and say what we’re thankful for,” Coco suggested. “Then we can make a line and load up our plates.”
My seat was between Matéo and Peter, and Suzanne had written my whole first name, Viviana, on my card.
“Vivi, why don’t you go first,” Aly suggested, “because this was your idea?”
“Um, okay.” Deciding to keep it short and simple, I said, “I’m thankful for family.” The irony was not lost on me.
Next to me, Matéo squeezed my hand. He said, “I too am thankful for family, newfound and old. I’m thankful for friends. I’m thankful to be with the most amazing woman I’ve ever met.” Across the table, Aly blew him a kiss.
Next was Charlotte. “I’m thankful for love, for food, and for friendship.”
We went around the table like that: Coco, Tink, Michelle, James, Aly, Dana, Peter, Charlotte, Alex, and Suzanne each gave thanks.
Everything turned out better than I’d expected. Matéo had made special Thanksgiving spiced hard cider. I tried half a cup and it was delicious, but I stopped there. Coco and I had cooked. Tink’s boyfriend, Peter, had made bourbon whipped cream for all my pi
es: sweet potato, pecan, and apple-raisin, two of each. The turkey that Coco had brined and roasted was perfect and beautiful.
As I looked around the table at people talking, laughing, and eating, I realized how truly thankful I was to be here. Last summer had been the worst summer of my life, and I was including all my future summers in that. But I had been offered a new home here; I had a new family in Matéo and Aly.
True, we still didn’t know who had killed our parents. We didn’t know who had attacked Tink. We hadn’t gotten any more information about the person killed in New York. The reporter had never returned my e-mail, and when I’d finally called the New York Times, they’d told me that Nicholas Tareynton was away on assignment and they didn’t know when he would be back, or if he was checking e-mail. So that seemed like a dead end—very frustrating. And we didn’t know for sure what had happened to split Matéo’s family from mine.
But in forming our own relationships, I had to admit, we’d made the answers a little less scary.
And I was thankful for that.
• • •
“It’s Thanksgiving there, no?” My tia Juliana sounded very far away.
“Yes. I think I’m gonna die.” I lay on my bed, feeling like a blood-filled tick and wishing I had made better choices in terms of desserts. And seconds. And thirds.
Tia Juliana laughed. “You feel like that every year.”
“True.”
“I’m glad you celebrated Thanksgiving with friends, darling,” she said. “I was worried about what you would do today.”
“Well, I thought about getting a Hungry-Man turkey dinner and eating it by myself in front of the TV,” I said. “But then some friends were getting together, and I decided to force myself to go.” It was not fun lying to my only aunt, pretending I still lived in Sugar Beach. I felt even more guilty about being glad that she lived all the way in Brazil so it was less likely that she would discover my lies. Every once in a while Matéo and I talked about simply coming out and asking her, introducing her to Matéo and seeing what happened. So far we had been total chickens about it. But we really needed to do that. And soon.