So what are we studying now? She tilted her head to the side to read the spines of the books. Neurolinguistic Programming and its Practical Application to Creative Growth. A little light reading?
Its actually an amazing topic, Rosa said over the whoosh of the milk steamer. Did you know theres a way to recover creative joy simply by finding pleasurable past associations?
Millie set the latte on the counter. Too advanced for me, Einstein. What school?
Berkeley. The professor even offered to read my final paper if I e-mail it to him.
Millie eyed her admiringly. I swear, you have the best education money cant buy.
Keeps me out of trouble, anyway. Rosa had never left home, but over the years shed managed to sample the finest places of higher learning in the worldgenetics at MIT, rococo architecture at the University of Milan, medieval law at Oxford and chaos theory at Harvard. She used to contact professors by phone in order to finagle a syllabus and reading list. Now the Internet made it even easier. With a few clicks of the mouse, she could find course outlines, study sheets, practice tests. The only cost to her was the price of books.
Youre nuts, Millie said with a grin. We all think so.
But Im a very educated nut.
True. Do you ever wish you could sit down and take an actual class?
Long ago, that had been all Rosa had dreamed of. Then shed found herself in the midst of an unspeakable tragedy, and the entire course of her life had shifted. Sure I do, she said with deliberate lightness. I still might, one of these days, when I find the time.
You could start by hiring a general manager for your restaurant.
I can barely afford my own salary. Rosa had a seat and opened one of the books to an article on Noam Chomskys Transformational Grammar.
Linda showed up wearing a T-shirt that read What if the Hokey Pokey is what its all about? and went to the counter to order her usuala pot of Lady Grey with honey and a lemon wedge on the side. Sorry Im late, she said over her shoulder. I tried to get off the phone with my mom, but she couldnt stop crying.
Thats sweet.
I guess, but it might be a little insulting, too. She was just sorelieved. Shes been worried that Id never get married. A major tragedy in the Lipschitz family. So the fact that Jasons Catholic didnt even faze her. She held out her hand, letting the sunlight glitter through the facets of the diamond in her new engagement ring. It looks even better in broad daylight, doesnt it?
Its gorgeous.
Linda beamed at her. I cant wait to change my name to Aspoll.
Youre taking his name?
Hey, for me its an upgrade. We cant all be born with names like Puccini opera characters, Miss Rosina Angelica Capoletti. Linda drizzled honey into her tea. Oh, and I have news. The wedding has to be in August. Jasons company transferred him to Boise, and were moving right after Labor Day.
Rosa smiled at her friend, though when Jason had told her that, shed wanted to hit him. So we have less than twelve weeks to plan and execute this wedding, she said. Maybe thats why your mom was crying.
Shes loving it. Shell be flying up from Florida next week. Theres nothing quite like my mom in event-planning mode. Its going to be fine, youll see.
She seemed remarkably calm, Rosa thought. The reality of getting married and leaving Winslow forever probably hadnt hit her yet.
Linda lifted her cup. How you doing, Ms. Rosa? Still recovering from the shock of seeing Mr. Love-em-and-leave-em?
Rosa concentrated on sprinkling sugar in her latte. Theres nothing to recover from. So he showed up at the restaurant, so what? His family still owns that property out on Ocean Road. I was bound to run into him sooner or later. Im just surprised it took so long. But its no big
You just put four packets of sugar in that coffee, Linda pointed out.
I did not Rosa stared in surprise at the little ripped packets littering the table. She pushed the mug away. Shoot.
Ah, Rosa. Linda patted her hand. Im sorry.
It was just weird, okay? Weird to see that someone who was once my whole world is a stranger now. And I guess its weird because I had to imagine him having a life. I didnt do that when we were little, you know? Hed go away at the end of summer, and I never thought about him in the city. Then when he came back the next year, we picked up where we left off. I thought he only existed for the three months he was with me. And now hes existed for twelve years without me, which is completely no big deal.
Oh, come on, Rosa. Its a big deal. Maybe it shouldnt be, but it is.
We were kids, just out of school.
You loved him.
Rosa tried her coffee and winced. Too sweet. Everybodys in love when theyre eighteen. And everybody gets dumped.
And moves on, Linda said. Except you.
Linda
Its true. Youve never had anyone really special since Alex, Linda stated.
I go out with guys all the time.
You know what I mean.
Rosa pushed the coffee mug away. I went out with Greg Fortner for six months.
He was in the navy. He was gone for five of those six months.
Maybe thats why we got along so well. Rosa looked at her friend. Clearly, Linda wasnt buying it. All right, what about Derek Gunn? Eight months, at least.
Id hardly call that a lifelong commitment. I wish youd stuck with him. He was great, Rosa.
He had a fatal flaw, Rosa muttered.
Yeah? Whats that?
Youll say Im petty.
Try me. Im not letting you out of my sight until you fess up.
He was boring. The admission burst from Rosa on a sigh.
He drives a Lexus.
I rest my case.
Linda got an extra mug and shared her tea with Rosa. Hes got a house on the water in Newport.
Boring house. Boring water. Even worse, he has a boring family. Hanging out with them was like watching paint dry. And Ill probably burn in hell for saying that.
Its best to know what your issues are before going ahead with a relationship.
You been watching too much Dr. Phil. I have no issues.
Linda coughed. Stop that. Youll make me snort tea out my nose.
Okay, so what are my issues?
Linda waved a hand. Uh-uh, Im not touching that one. I need you to be my maid of honor, and it wont happen if were not speaking. Thats what this meetings about, by the way. Me. My wedding. Not that its anywhere near as interesting as you and Alex Montgomery.
There is no me and Alex Montgomery, Rosa insisted. Andnot to change the subjectdid I just hear you ask me to be your maid of honor?
Linda took a deep breath and beamed at her. I did. Youre my oldest and dearest friend, Rosa. I want you to stand up with me at my wedding. So, will you?
Are you kidding? Rosa gave her friends hand a squeeze. Id be honored.
She loved weddings and had been a bridesmaid six times. She knew it was six because, deep in the farthest reaches of her closet, she had six of the ugliest dresses ever designed, in colors no one had ever seen before. But Rosa had worn each one with a keen sense of duty and pride. She danced and toasted at the weddings; she caught a bouquet or two in her time. After each wedding, she returned home, carrying her dyed-to-match shoes in one hand and her wilting bouquet in the other.
as soon as we set a date, Linda was saying.
Rosa realized her thoughts had drifted. Sorry. What?
Hello? I said, keep August 21 and 28 open for me, okay?
Yes, of course.
Linda finished her tea. Id better let you go. You need to deal with Alex Montgomery.
I dont need to deal with Alex Montgomery. Theres simply no dealing to be done.
I dont think you have a choice, Linda said.
Thats ridiculous. Of course I have a choice. Just because he came back to town doesnt mean its my job to deal with him.
Its your shot, Rosa. Your golden opportunity. Dont let it pass you by.
Rosa spread her hands, genuinely baffled. What shot? What opportunity? I have no idea what youre talking about.
To get unstuck.
I beg your pardon.
Youve been stuck in the same place since Alex left you.
Bullshit. Im not stuck. I have a fabulous life here. I never wanted to be anywhere else.
I dont mean that kind of stuck. I mean emotionally stuck. You never got over the hurt and distrust of what happened with Alex, and you cant move on. Now that hes back, youve got a chance to clear the air with him and get him out of your heart and out of your head once and for all.
Hes not in my heart, Rosa insisted. Hes not in my head.
Right. Linda patted her arm. Deal with him, Rosa. Youll thank me one day. He cant be having an easy time, you know, since his mother
What about his mother? Rosa hadnt heard talk of Emily Montgomery in ages, but that was not unusual. She never came to the shore anymore.
God, you didnt hear?
Hear what?
I just assumed you knew. Linda jumped up and rifled through the stack of daily papers. She returned with a Journal Bulletin, folded back to show Rosa.
She stared at the photo of the haughtily beautiful Emily Montgomery, portrait-posed and gazing serenely at the camera.
Oh, God. Her hands rattled the paper as she pushed it away from her on the table. Then, in the same movement, she gathered the paper close and started to read. Society matron Emily Wright Montgomery, wife of financier Alexander Montgomery III, died on Wednesday at her home in Providence
Rosa laid down the paper and looked across the table at her friend. She was only fifty-five.
Thats what it says. Doesnt seem so old now that were nearly thirty.
I wonder what happened. Rosa thought about the way Alex had been last nightslightly drunk, coming on to her. Now his recklessness took on a different meaning. Hed just lost his mother. Last night, she had dropped him off at an empty house.
Linda leveled her gaze at Rosa. You should ask him.
Four
Rosa drove along Prospect Street to the house where shed grown up. Little had changed here, only the names of the residents and the gumball colors of their clapboard houses. Buckling concrete driveways led to crammed garages with sagging rooflines. Maple and elm trees arched over the roadway, their stately grace a foil for the homely houses.
It was nice here, she reflected. Safe and comfortable. People still tended their peonies and hydrangeas, their roses and snapdragons. Women pegged out laundry on clotheslines stretched across sunny backyards. Kids rode bikes from house to house and climbed the overgrown apple tree in the Lipschitzes yard. She still thought of it as the Lipschitzes yard even though Lindas parents had retired to Vero Beach, Florida, years ago.
She pulled up to the curb in front of number 115, a boxy house with a garden so neat that people sometimes slowed down to admire it. A pruned hedge guarded the profusion of roses that bloomed from spring to winter. Each of the roses had a name. Not the proper name of its variety, but Salvatore, Roberto, Rosinaeach one planted in honor of their first communion. There were also roses that honored relatives in Italy whom Rosa had never met, and a few for people she didnt knowLa Donna, a scarlet beauty, and a coral floribunda whose name she couldnt remember.
The sturdy bush by the front step, covered in creamy-white blooms, was the Celesta, of course. A few feet away was the one Rosa, a six-year-old with a passion for Pepto-Bismol pink, had chosen for herself. Mamma had been so proud of her that day, beaming down like an angel from heaven. It was one of those memories Rosa cherished, because it was so clear in her heart and mind. She wished all the past could be remembered this way, with clarity and affection, no tinge of regret. But that was naive, and by now, she had figured that out.
She used her ancient key to let herself in. Pop had given it to her when she was nine years old, and she had never once lost it. In the front hall, she blinked the lights a few times. Out of habit she called his name, though it had been some years since hed been able to hear her.
An acrid odor wafted from the kitchen, along with a buzzing sound.
Shit, she muttered under her breath, clutching the strap of her purse to her shoulder as she ran to the back of the house. On the counter, a blender stood unattended, its seized motor humming its last, rubber-scented smoke streaming from the base. She grabbed the cordit felt hot to the touchand jerked it from the wall. Inside the blender, the lukewarm juice sloshed. The kitchen smoke alarm blinkedwhat good was that if Pop wasnt looking?
Jesus, Mary and Joseph, youre going to kill yourself one of these days, Rosa said, waving the smoke away from her face. She peered through the window and saw him out in the backyard, puttering around, oblivious.
On the kitchen table, a newspaper lay open to the Emily Montgomery obituary. Rosa pictured her father starting his breakfast, paging through the paper, stopping in shock as he read the news. Hed probably wandered outside to think about it.
She opened the windows and turned on the exhaust fan over the range, then emptied the blender carafe into the sink. As she cleaned up the mess, Rosa felt a wave of nostalgia. In the scrubbed and gleaming kitchen, her mothers rolled-out pasta dough used to cover the entire top of the chrome and Formica table. Rosa could still picture the long sleek muscles in her mothers arms as she wielded the red-handled rolling pin, drawing it in smooth, rhythmic strokes over the butter-yellow dough.
The reek of the burnt-out motor was a corruption here, in Mammas world. The smell of her baking ciambellone used to be so powerful it drew the neighbors in, and Rosa could remember the women in their aprons and scuffs, sitting on the back stoop, sharing coffee and Mammas citrusy ciambellone, fresh from the oven.
To this day, the sweet, dense bread was one of the signature brunch items at Celestas-by-the-Sea. Butch prepared the dough directly on the countertop with his bare hands, no bowls or spoons, just like Mamma had. Rosa appreciated Butchs skill at cooking and his exquisite palate, but some subtle essence was missing; she could only put it down as magic. No one could capture that, though Rosa knew in some part of her heart that she would never stop trying.
She went out back to talk to her father. The yard had a long rectangular garden that had been laid out and planted by her mother before Rosa was born. Nowadays, her father tended the heirloom tomatoes, peppers, beans and herbs, happy to spend his silent hours in a place his young wife had loved.