The Fortune Cafe (A Tangerine Street Romance)

by Wright, Julie

  The door chimed as it opened, and Stella looked over to see a teenaged kid, carrying a pizza box.

  “Set it on the counter, please,” she said, digging out her money from her purse. She handed over the money, then checked the pizza box. The order was right. “Thanks.”

  “Have a good night,” the teen said.

  The smell of the pizza made Stella realize how hungry she was. She carried it to the work desk. As she ate, she browsed through the other takeout menus. She stopped when she got to The Fortune Café menu. The restaurant was down the street, but she hadn’t ordered from them in a while. She remembered them being good, so she’d have to try them again.

  Stella was about halfway through the pizza when the door chimed again.

  Maybe the delivery boy had left his keys or something. She rose from her desk and walked into the shop.

  A man, with a little girl tugging at his hand, had just entered. For a second, Stella stared. The little girl had blonde curls, reminding her of herself. And the girl was about six or seven, the same age Stella had been when her father was killed in a car wreck on the PCH.

  Stella’s throat felt tight, and she commanded herself to breathe until she started to relax. The man and the girl hadn’t noticed her yet. “It smells like flowers in here, Daddy! Can you smell it?”

  The man exaggerated a sniff. “Yeah, I smell it.”

  “Look at these!” the girl said, pulling her father toward the display of sun necklaces. The dark-corded chains contrasted with the polished brass suns. They were one of the more popular tourist buys. “Sunshines! Can we get one for Mommy?”

  The man crouched next to his daughter and fingered the metal charm. “Do you think she’ll like this?”

  “Yes.” The girl’s blonde curls bounced as she nodded. “She loves the sun!”

  The man smiled, then he looked up to see Stella.

  She flushed, realizing she’d been caught eavesdropping— but it was her store, wasn’t it? Yet for some reason, her standard “Can I help you?” didn’t materialize. She was staring into the most incredible eyes she’d ever seen. She could only describe them as sea glass— a mixture of green and blue.

  And the man’s gaze had that appreciative look in it.

  This was definitely not happening. He was good-looking, any woman could see that, but he was married with a kid. Stella ignored the awareness spreading through her body and looked down at his daughter. “Do you like that necklace?”

  The girl clasped her hands together. “It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

  Stella laughed at the kid’s dramatics. The man was laughing too. He straightened to his full height, and their gazes caught again. If Stella wasn’t mistaken, he was checking her out.

  Wow. She was flattered for precisely two seconds, then she was mad. What married guy checks out other women when shopping with his kid?

  Not that there was a lot to check out. Stella’s blonde hair had faded to a dirty-wash color the past couple of years from spending so much time inside, and she probably had pizza breath, not to mention her multicolored hippie blouse gave her no shape whatsoever. Still.

  “It is beautiful, sweetheart.” But he wasn’t looking at his daughter. “We need to find out how much it is. Can you read the numbers?” His gaze finally went back to his kid.

  The girl turned the necklace over. “There’s no numbers.”

  He reached for the necklace and turned it over himself. “You’re right. Maybe we should ask someone the price?”

  The kid pointed at Stella with a grin. “How about the shop lady?”

  Stella smiled at her. She had to hand it to the guy— he was an adorable dad.

  “Great idea,” he said, his tone low and amused. “How much are the necklaces? We don’t see any prices.”

  That’s because I don’t label anything. Encourages customer interaction. And why are you looking at me like that? You’re married. But Stella said none of these things. “They’re $65.”

  The man’s eyebrows lifted slightly. If he thought he was in a junky jewelry shop, he was mistaken. Stella had handcrafted everything in the store. And her mother had done it before her; it was what made the store unique.

  “Can we get it, Daddy? Pleassssse?”

  His daughter’s begging tore his attention from Stella, and he looked down at his daughter, a half smile on his face.

  What? Your wife’s not worth $65? Stella wanted to say, but instead she said nothing. The man didn’t look like a bum or anything. His daughter wore a cute sundress with sparkly sandals, and his casual clothing— a button-down shirt and jeans— was nice-looking.

  “All right, Katie,” he said. “It’s a deal. Pick which one you want.”

  The girl named Katie squealed and started sorting through the metal suns, chattering to her dad as she did so. Each of the suns was a little different and the cord lengths also varied.

  “I’ll be over here when you’re ready.” Stella popped a piece of gum into her mouth and absently redid her messy ponytail. Her hair was probably a mess— the charming curls of her youth had become a pain to work with as an adult. If she didn’t take the time to manipulate her hair with a flat iron, then it was hopeless, and she ended up pulling her hair up or winding it up in a clip.

  It appeared that Katie had chosen a necklace, but now she was pointing out some other things to her dad.

  Stella hid a smile. Married or not, she was interested in the man’s response to his daughter. But Stella didn’t allow herself to watch them and instead straightened the counter. She had Post-it notes on the edges of the counter as well, mostly with vendor supply numbers that she frequently called from her business line.

  “We can come back again,” the man’s voice said, surprisingly near.

  Stella looked up from the cash drawer that she’d impulsively started organizing. The man was standing directly across from her on the other side of the counter.

  “Okay, Daddy,” Katie said, her tone disappointed.

  The man leaned down and kissed the top of his daughter’s head.

  Stella’s heart flipped. He was a sweet father. Then his blue-green eyes were on hers, and her heart sank. He had no problem staring at her, and it made her want to yell at him to mind his own business. He wore a half smile as he leaned one elbow on the counter and held out the necklace.

  Stella took the necklace from his outstretched hand, trying not to think about what it felt like touching his hand. She avoided looking into his eyes as she rang up the purchase. He handed over a credit card, and even though she told herself she wouldn’t, she asked to see his ID. It was her policy after all. So why change it for a man who had gotten under her skin? The name on both the credit card and the driver’s license matched: Evan Rockham.

  “Thanks, Mr. Rockham,” she said, handing back both cards, along with the necklace wrapped in tissue paper and slipped into a shiny bag reading Spyglass Jewelry.

  “Thank you,” he said. “You have great pieces in here.”

  Normally Stella would have launched into a few tidbits about how she made the jewelry and how she offered custom designs as well, but she didn’t want this married man coming back to her store. He needed to focus on his wife.

  She simply nodded and smiled at Katie, who was peering over the counter at her. “Hope your mom enjoys it.”

  Evan Rockham stepped into the ocean-scented air and breathed in deeply. His daughter, Katie, was holding his hand and chattering almost nonstop. But Evan wasn’t listening, even though he usually hung on her every word. He couldn’t get the blonde woman with amber-brown eyes who worked in the shop out of his mind; she was pretty, but it was more than that. When he’d looked into her eyes, he’d seen vulnerability, as if she’d gone through some hard times. Yet he could tell the jewelry shop was a place where she was comfortable and that she knew her business well.

  She had practically challenged him on the price with her direct gaze. But then she had hardly looked at him after that. As if she was b
eing careful. He could have sworn he’d seen a spark of interest in her, but then there had been nothing. Like she’d retreated into place that was untouchable. This made Evan curious, and he didn’t even know her name.

  “Come on, Daddy.” Katie pulled on his hand, and he realized it was time to cross the street. He tried to tune into what she was saying— something about going to the beach the next day, which would be impossible because they had to leave early in order to meet her mother in time. Evan knew he’d miss Katie as soon as he dropped her off.

  Since the divorce, guilt and a few other things had driven him to really focus when he was spending time with his daughter. In fact, he didn’t even answer his phone, allowing it to go to voice mail, and then calling his culinary students back after Katie was asleep.

  Tomorrow morning, he’d be meeting his ex-wife, Michelle, to drop Katie off. It would be over a month before he’d see his daughter again for a two-week summer vacation. Evan paused at the street corner, waiting for a car to pass. He looked back to the jewelry shop, thinking again of the woman who worked there. He hadn’t been this aware of another woman in a long time. He’d dated a couple of women since the divorce three years before. But they’d all turned out too much like his ex, high maintenance and prone to tantrums.

  Evan wouldn’t have ever guessed a grown woman could throw tantrums when he and Michelle were dating. And when she’d thrown the first one, he figured it was his fault. And it probably was. As long as he never contradicted her, then everything went fine. When she’d decided they had to move into a specific neighborhood before Katie was born, he said nothing. When she enrolled their three-year-old daughter into an exclusive private preschool that cost nearly half their mortgage, he went along with it. But when Michelle insisted that Katie needed to live abroad for a year in Japan with a foreign-exchange family so she could become bilingual, Evan had put his foot down.

  Thus, the divorce.

  Fortunately, the judge had agreed with Evan. He and Michelle had joint custody, which meant that without Evan’s permission, his daughter wouldn’t be living in Japan or any other foreign country without his consent.

  They’d been divorced for three years now, but he still had to deal with her obsessive needs when working out Katie’s schedule. Any time a woman he dated showed any signs of being like Michelle, he made a beeline for the door. Maybe he attracted the wrong type of women.

  They reached his truck, and Evan loaded Katie in, making sure she did up her seat belt.

  He phone rang as he started the engine. It was his new boss, the manager of the Mariposa Hotel, a brand-new five-star resort at Seashell Beach. “Hang on a minute, Katie. I’ve got to answer this.”

  The phone call lasted only a couple of minutes, but it had Evan’s mind spinning. As he drove back to his newly-rented townhouse a few streets above Tangerine, he was already planning out menu ideas. The governor of California was coming with his family for a couple of days— his daughter was planning a wedding in Santa Barbara. And with Evan being the new head chef of the best hotel in the area, he was now in charge of feeding the governor.

  This job was turning out better than expected. The move from Los Angeles to Seashell Beach had gotten him out of the traffic and the daily grind, and the Mariposa had given him a ton of flexibility. He was allowed to use the back kitchen to teach the culinary arts course that he’d started to develop in LA. He had a few students from his LA courses get jobs as assistants or head chefs at resort hotels all along the California coastline.

  Those students inspired him to seek out a hotel of his own. It was one thing working as a chef for a high-end restaurant in the city, but another when cooking for people who were on vacation and expected the dining experience to be an event in itself.

  “Can we go to the beach tomorrow, Daddy?” Katie asked from the backseat as he pulled into the driveway of his townhouse.

  “We have to leave right after breakfast to go meet your mom.” He shut off the ignition and turned to face her. Katie had her arms folded and her face pushed into a pout. “But I’ll see you soon, and we can go to the beach every day if you want.”

  Still, her pout remained, and Evan wanted to laugh at her adorable expression.

  “How about I make your favorite breakfast tomorrow?” he asked.

  “Smiley-face pancakes?”

  “Is that what you like now? I thought it was a veggie omelet,” he teased.

  “No!” she said, her eyes wide.

  Evan laughed. “A smiley-face pancake it is.” He didn’t really want to copy IHOP, so he’d have to come up with something better.

  It wasn’t long before Katie went to sleep, after her customary hot cocoa, of course. Evan had spoiled her with homemade hot chocolate before bedtime since the divorce, and now it was a tradition between them. He didn’t mind it a bit.

  He warmed up a second cup and sat down at the kitchen table with his laptop. He’d been building his website, and it was nearly finished. In LA, his students came by word of mouth, but in Seashell Beach, he was only starting to get to know people, and he hadn’t been too proactive in handing out his business card. Maybe he’d ask the jewelry store lady if he could leave a stack on her shop counter.

  Before he realized what he was doing, he’d Googled Spyglass Jewelry. A professional-looking website came up. Who would have thought a tiny tourist shop would have such a nice website? He clicked first on the Contact Us page, but was disappointed when there was no name listed, just a phone number, address, and business email.

  Then he loaded the Our History page, and seconds later, he was immersed in reading about a woman named Leslie Novak, who started out selling her homemade jewelry on the beach twenty-five years before. The story continued, describing the grand opening of Spyglass that took place a few years later when Leslie’s products garnered more demand. Spyglass became the name because Leslie’s daughter, Stella, had called the colored glass that washed up on the beach spyglass.

  At the end of the article, there was a picture of Leslie and her daughter, who looked to be about twelve. Evan enlarged the black-and-white photo. The young girl was the woman from the shop. About ten years or more years had passed, but it was definitely her. That meant her name was Stella Novak. He read through the rest of the website, growing more and more interested and impressed at the same time.

  “Here’s your phone.” Stella set it on the small table next to her mother’s recliner.

  Her mother smiled up at her, and Stella hid a wince. Diabetes had ravaged her mother’s face, and her delicate, vibrant features were now swollen and jaundiced. Her silver-blonde hair had been cut short, and she could only wear light, loose-fitting clothing because anything fitted made her uncomfortable.

  Stella leaned over and tweaked her mother’s breathing apparatus that she’d been on since the coma that had destroyed her respiratory system. Her mother had been diagnosed with diabetes ten years before, but with not taking care of herself properly, the disease had taken over her body. Getting that phone call at college that her mom had had a stroke and fallen into a coma had made her life pass before her eyes.

  Looking at her mom now made Stella realize that she’d done the right thing coming home and take care of her. “Do you want to come into the shop today?” Stella asked. Even though her mother could no longer make jewelry, on her good days, she liked to interact with customers.

  “No, sweetheart,” her mother answered. “Not today.”

  Stella blinked back tears and smiled. “I’ll close down for lunch and come home. If you need anything before that, call me.”

  She adjusted the afghan over her mother’s legs, then kissed her on the cheek. Before Stella was out the door, she heard the volume of the television go up a few notches. It would be another predictable day. Her mother would watch TV, maybe knit a little, and fall asleep until Stella woke her for lunch.

  Stella ate lunch with her mom every day, but there was only so much of the diabetic food Stella could take. Hence the takeout every
night in the shop. She’d learned the hard way that her mom had little self-control when it came to food choice. And it was too cruel to cook or bring something in the house that she couldn’t eat. Her mom followed her diet to a T now and sincerely regretted the poor choices she made that took her down this path, but Stella knew she might still cave to temptation.

  The walk to the shop was only a few dozen feet. One of the things that had attracted Leslie Novak into leasing then eventually buying the shop was the small house behind it. Stella strolled along the cobbled pathway, another endearing feature. The early summer flowers were in full bloom, and Stella knew she’d be weeding soon.

  She still had about thirty minutes before opening for business, and so she bypassed the shop and crossed Tangerine Street to the beach alley almost directly across from the jewelry shop. It led to the boardwalk, and Stella slipped her shoes off there then stepped onto the beach. It would warm up within the hour, but for now, Stella enjoyed the cool granules slipping around her toes as she headed for the waves. She turned before she hit the wet sand and walked north, toward a group of tide pools.

  The serenity of the waves, the rising sun, and the sound of the early gulls calmed Stella in a way little else could. The texts from Andrew no longer bothered her, and she could see her mother’s illness with a better perspective. If they followed the right diet and kept up the doctor appointments, her mom would have a lot of good years left.

  When the angle of the sun told her it was time to open, Stella walked back to the shop, feeling refreshed. She went around to the back and unlocked the rear door, and as always, the first breath of air as she stepped inside sent a thrill through her. It felt like home and tasted of memories. All of the best kind of memories any little girl could have of growing up at her mom’s side, doing everything together. The nostalgia was stronger today for some reason. Maybe it was the walk on the beach or seeing the bright flowers along the pathway to her house.