by Casey Dawes
“Your home must be very beautiful,” he said, stealing a glance at her. A smile curved her moist lips, bringing back the memory of his quick taste a few nights earlier.
A blaring horn brought his attention back to the road.
“Merda!”
A truck coming from the opposite direction veered over the line and forced them to the edge of the road, an edge that fell into nothingness a foot from the pavement. The wind generated from the vehicle pushed the little sports car around and Marcos fought to control the steering wheel. With the screech of tires and smell of rubber, he managed to pull the car back into the lane.
He checked his passengers. “Are you okay?”
Elizabeth drew a shaky breath. “Too bad you don’t believe in guardrails.”
“How would that be fun?” he said without thinking and immediately regretted it. Perhaps she wouldn’t get his sense of humor.
A smile played with her lips. “I suppose you like to jump out of a perfectly good airplane, too.”
He chuckled and grasped her hand with his. “I am sorry. I cannot stop here, but there is a village a short distance ahead. Will you be all right until then?”
“Yes.” She unwrapped her hand from his. “But two hands on the wheel for my sake.”
He shrugged and did as she asked. “With danger, you appreciate life.”
“With safety you live it longer,” she retorted.
“Long … but very, very dull,” he said.
“I see.” He heard the seat squeak as she shifted. “Does your love of danger only apply to physical danger?” A teasing note belied the seriousness of her question.
Without thinking, he replied. “Oh, no. We enjoy the zest of life in all that we do — art, music, sports, love … ”
He realized his mistake as soon as the last word slipped out.
“I see,” she said, her voice noticeably cooler.
Damn. The woman had viewed his invitation as Sofia suspected. Why couldn’t he have let things be and regard the dinner as a pleasant memory?
“Is the village much further?” Sarah asked from the back seat.
“Only a few more curves. Don’t worry. I’ll get us there safely.”
He returned his concentration to the twisting road. As they drove further into the mountains, small terraced farms carved from the landscape appeared. Everything was crammed into the small plots — olive trees, vineyards, leafy green vegetable gardens. Marcos felt his spirits lift with the abundance he saw around him. He would enjoy the day and hope Elizabeth would as well.
The road widened as they crested a hill and drove into a small town of red-roofed stucco buildings, Here and there women bore shopping baskets and bags filled with string-wrapped packages of meat and leafy fronds. Marcos pulled over near a bell tower marking the end of the shopping center and stopped the engine.
Turning to face Elizabeth and Sarah, he said, “I am so sorry for the scare. You are okay? Would you like a cup of coffee?” He placed his hand on Elizabeth’s, the heat from her skin warming his hand.
Again she withdrew her hand.
He would need to stop touching her if he was going to keep the day light and casual.
“How close are we?” Sarah asked.
“Almost there,” Marcos said.
“You okay, Mom?” Sarah’s hand rested on her mother’s shoulder.
Elizabeth patted her daughter’s hand. “Yes. I’m fine. It’s going to take a little more than a near-death experience to ruin my day.” She smiled, but it lacked the fullness of her earlier happiness.
“Then why don’t we get to the vineyard and drink some wine?” Sarah suggested. Color suffused her cheeks, contrasting with the pallor of the rest of her face, but she was grinning.
Marcos took one more look at Elizabeth and restarted the car.
The road leading from the village narrowed, clusters of fields crowding either side of it. Small vineyards with neatly strung vines heavy with ripening fruit were scattered between carefully tilled rows of beans, leafy greens, and small shoots of onion stalks.
They were at the cusp of harvest when Marcos would get the results of months of work. Carefully, he turned the car down a narrow dirt lane shrouded with vineyards on either side.
“The vineyard has been in my family ever since they came up from Southern Italy centuries ago,” he said.
“Beautiful,” Elizabeth said.
He rounded a bend and a small building of traditional stucco came into view. His heart filled with pride at the picture the winery made nestled in the vineyard. “Ah, here we are!”
He stopped the car, got out and dashed to the other side to help them out of the car. “Welcome to my winery and barrel room.” He swept his arm to indicate that all they could see was his. Pride brought the joy of the day back to him.
A long and well-worn wooden picnic table nestled under an arbor covered with vines, providing shade from the hot sun. Flowering pink and gold shrubs separated the area from the chestnut forest that abutted the vineyard on the north side.
Marcos plunked the basket on the table and unlocked the padlock to the winery building. When he spread the door wide, cool air rushed out from the dark within. He gestured for them to follow him into the damp, sweet-smelling room. Barrels were stacked ceiling-high in the back of the room and four stainless-steel tanks lined one wall. To the left a plank spanning the tops of two wine-barrels held glasses, beakers and two hand-labeled bottles of wine.
“My humble blending table,” he said gesturing at the crude surface.
Elizabeth picked up one of the bottles of wine. Her face became more alive with interest. “What does it mean?” She gestured to the scrawled numbers on the bottle.
“Not much,” he said. Their fingers touched hers as he took the bottle from her and the flash of heat took him by surprise. “I have the date of the blend and a number that references my notes.” He pointed to a wine-stained notebook at the edge of the table, making an effort to get his thoughts back on winemaking and away from lovemaking.
“What kind of a blend is it?” she asked.
“How much do you know about winemaking?” he asked.
“I took a class at the community college. I enjoy wine, so I wanted to learn about it.”
“And?” He poured wine from the first bottle into a glass, swirled it, sniffed it, and took a sip. Faint notes of blueberry were chased by a heavier hint of tobacco. He was almost there.
He poured two more glasses and passed them to the women. Sarah took hers and wandered toward the barrels at the back of the building.
“I found winemaking fascinating,” Elizabeth said. “A lot of patience is required, isn’t it?” Her eyes peered over the rim of the glass and he became entranced by the warmth of her gaze.
His heart cracked a little more.
“Most good things require patience. You will need it when you develop your lotions. I’m sure you’ll be trying to balance aromas with the texture you need for a silky feel.” He rubbed his thumb and index finger together to demonstrate.
She turned away and he saw her shoulders square before she turned back to look at him.
“Is what’s in the other bottle just as good?” she asked, a small smile on her lips.
“We’ll have to find out, won’t we?”
• • •
Elizabeth couldn’t take her eyes off Marcos’ hands as he opened the second bottle and poured the wine into two more glasses. His fingers were long and thin, like a pianist’s. What would they feel like if they played a tune on her body? And why was she thinking this way?
He handed her a glass, a bemused smile on his face indicating that he knew what she had crossed her mind. “Let me know which one you like better.”
“The first one was yummy,” Sarah said as she return
ed to the blending table. “I can’t wait to taste the second one. I’m going to need to take some sommelier classes at Davis to learn something about wine. Rick and I will need a good wine list for the restaurant.”
“You have a restaurant?” Marcos asked as he poured wine into her glass.
Sarah flicked her eyes at her mother. “I have a dream. Right now I have to finish college.”
“Dreams are important,” Marcos said. “Without them, you don’t have anywhere to go. You’ll stumble around lost, never knowing who you are.”
Elizabeth swallowed a shimmering blend of currents and smoke. She didn’t need Marcos egging Sarah on. “Going to college is essential. The dream can come later.”
“College can be important, but never as essential as the dream,” Marcos said. “Life can be hard. Having a vision of where you want to be keeps you going when things go wrong.”
He put down his glass and touched Elizabeth’s shoulder. “You know that. Your dream is standing right there.” He pointed to Sarah.
Tears welled in Elizabeth’s eyes, but she blinked them back. She had to keep reminding herself that Sarah was beyond her control.
“But mom needs a new dream, now,” Sarah said. “I’m following my bliss.”
“And getting a degree,” Elizabeth said.
“Yes, Mother. I’ll get the degree.”
Elizabeth suspected her daughter was mocking her, but decided to let the subject drop.
“So which wine do you like best?” Marcos asked.
“The second,” Elizabeth and Sarah said at the same time.
“Good. That is what we will have with our lunch.” He led the way back outside.
They settled around the picnic table. Elizabeth and Sarah exclaimed over every delicacy as Marcos withdrew it from the basket.
“What a magnificent feast! Thank you, Marcos,” Elizabeth said and touched his hand. The electricity between them jolted her. She pulled back and looked around the table. “Napkins?”
“M-o-ther, you don’t need napkins at a picnic.”
“Yes, you do,” Elizabeth said. “Otherwise, everything gets … gets … ,” she looked at Marcos, “messy.” All of a sudden, it was difficult to breathe.
“My cousin includes everything,” he said, draping a multi-colored napkin over her plate. He raised his glass. “Buon appetito.”
They chattered about the meal as they dove into the variety of cheeses and meats. Even as she ate, Elizabeth was aware of Marcos watching her as if he was storing up memories. Her body tingled with the attention. But she needed to remember this was simply a lunch. In addition to living in Italy, Marcos seemed to live on the edge, flitting through life without commitment.
Sarah’s cell phone rang, startling Elizabeth so she dropped the olive she was holding. The round knob bounced on the table, fell to the ground, and rolled away from them. Elizabeth looked up to see Marcos grinning at her. She laughed.
“What’s so funny?” Sarah asked, holding her hand over the phone.
“Vegetables like to escape from your mother. That’s how we met. She was attacking a small tomato.”
Sarah rolled her eyes. “I’ll be right back. It’s Rick.”
Marcos joined Elizabeth in her laughter. When he stopped, he said, “I do not know why, Elizabeth, but I am comfortable with you. We come from different worlds, but still I enjoy being with you more than any woman I have met in years.”
Danger lurked in this man. “Thank you,” was all she could think to say.
“I am looking forward to seeing you in California.”
Suddenly, that didn’t sound like a good idea. Elizabeth had a dream to conjure up, a dream that didn’t include a man. “I’m not sure that we should see each other again.”
He frowned. “Why?”
She struggled to find the right words, a way to put him off, but not offend him. “Like you said, we come from different lives and we live halfway across the world from each other. Let’s just enjoy the day and the memories and leave it at that.”
He put his hand on top of hers. “Is that what you really want?”
What I really want is those hands on me. She pushed the thought away. “I think it would be best.”
“I do not.” He caressed her hand. “I think you are afraid, Elizabeth. But I think you like me as well. If we meet again in your country, we will have the chance to know each other better. Only then can we know that memories of a beautiful day in the mountains are all we have.”
He glanced at Sarah before he lifted his hand and traced her lips. “I would like to kiss you, Elizabeth, to know what you taste like. And much more.” He put down his hand. “But I do not want to interfere with your dream or your life. Is there someone back home you are interested in?”
She thought briefly of Bobby, but he was out of the picture. “No.”
Marcos looked at her thoughtfully. “Will you let me see you in October?”
She looked over the neat rows of vineyards and the impeccably kept winery. Care showed in every detail. Maybe she was wrong about his fecklessness.
Looking back at him, she took a deep breath. “Okay.”
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 chi
n 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.”