California Wine (10 page)

She plunked her bottom on the leather car seat of her red sports car and let the air escape her lungs. Checking her watch, she headed back to the shop, the veins in her temples beginning to throb.

She’d crossed every T and dotted every I. The application had been perfect. Even her mother would have had to agree.

Elizabeth turned the key and backed out of the lot.

What was her next step? The bank that had turned her down handled all her accounts. If she couldn’t get a loan there, none of the other big banks would give it to her. Maybe she was thinking too big. If Joe were still alive, would he have supported her dream? Or would it have died the death of a thousand cuts?

She thought about Joe as she drove down into the village. They’d lapsed into the trap of many young couples did. Everything revolved around logistics, very little romance.

She parked her car and tapped her fingers on the steering wheel. Looking back, she realized even sex had diminished as their marriage aged. Odd for two people in their twenties. If he’d lived, would they have made it?

After letting herself into the shop, Elizabeth flipped the open sign. A mini-rush for the next few hours kept her from thinking about the business or anything else. The package from Italy arrived just before closing.

Glancing at the return address, she realized it wasn’t from Marcos and her shoulders slumped. It appeared to be from the shop she’d liked in Liguria. But they didn’t ship to America. Her fingers trembled with anticipation as she opened the package.

A note lay on top of a beautiful bottle of perfume.

“Ciao, bella,

“I have convinced the nice people at this shop that they needed to make an exception for a lovely American. I am sending you this to inspire you to keep going with your project, no matter what gets in your way.

“Marcos.”

She smiled and a tear slipped from her eye. After wiping her face with the back of her hand, she opened the bottle. The soft fragrance of lemons with a hint of the sea, wafted from the opening, clearing her head. Delicious.

The credit union! Elizabeth knew the business manager from chamber events, but didn’t hold any accounts there. Maybe if she shifted her banking to the credit union she’d get a loan.

Her spirits lifted. She wasn’t out of the game, yet. She’d email Catherine when she got home and find out what she needed to get an appointment.

After dinner, Elizabeth sat down with her bank loan papers and studied them. The bankers were right, they were a stretch. But she knew she could make it work. She’d built Beauty by the Bay from a down-at-the-heel cosmetics store to a business that helped support her family after Joe died.

If only she didn’t have to do it alone. She looked at the bottle of perfume Marcos had sent. The bottle was exquisite, exactly the type of product she wanted to create. How had he known? He’d made an effort to find the shop she’d visited. Maybe he would understand her need to create this on her own, but still be a sounding board?

No. Men wanted control. This was her business.

Still, she should thank him for the gift.

She pulled up the email program.

She tucked her hair behind her ear. What else could she say?

She stopped typing and erased the last line. Beth was on the lookout for her third husband. Marcos would be catnip to her.

Elizabeth wasn’t taking that chance.

Why not?

Elizabeth saved the half-written email, went into the kitchen, and filled a glass with Storrs’ chardonnay. If she was going to seriously think about a relationship with Marcos, only the best wine would do.

She pushed open the kitchen door and went into her garden, idly dead-heading her roses as she paced her garden. Secret summer was almost here, the balmy October weather that portended the rains of winter. She was blessed to live on the central coast. Why would she ever want to leave it?

Especially, for a man, a man she knew very little about. All she knew was that her blood seemed to course more quickly through her veins whenever she thought of him. She was more alive when he was around.

And it scared her to death.

She wasn’t going to be able to control her relationship with Marcos; he was too different. Hell, she didn’t even know if there
was
a relationship!

Could she live with uncertainty and find out? Since her unplanned pregnancy and Joe’s death, she’d always remained in control. Even building Beauty by the Bay was a step-by-step process. She always knew where she was going.

Being with Marcos would be totally different.

She swallowed the last of the wine and returned to the kitchen. Time to wrap it up for the night. Her appointment with the credit union was tomorrow.

When she returned to the computer, a flash at the bottom of her screen let her know an email message had come in.

A shiver went through her as she opened it.

Marcos laid out his vineyard travels and Elizabeth glanced at the calendar. Only three weeks to find an assistant. Suddenly, she desperately wanted to be the one to show Marcos the secrets of the mountains.

Elizabeth stroked the silk scarf she wore around her neck, remembering the touch of Marcos’ fingers as he’d traced them down her arms when he said good-bye in Italy. She sniffed the delicate lemon scent from her wrist. Goosebumps rose on her arms as she ran her tongue over her lips.

Elizabeth brought up her half-written email and changed her reply.

A new thought struck her.
“ … or I can close the shop for a day or two and show you myself.”

She took a deep breath. Closing the shop was a huge risk, but maybe it was worth it.

Just this once.

She ended the note and clicked the send button.

What would her mother have said about her running around with a man she didn’t know well? What would the neighbors think?

She smoothed out the frown between her eyebrows. Maybe she should let them think whatever they wanted.

She swallowed hard. She would have to leave everything to God. It hadn’t worked out well before, but maybe this time would be different.

• • •

The next afternoon she watched Catherine examine her loan papers with a frown. Elizabeth’s heart sank.

“Do you have any savings you’re going to invest in this venture?” Catherine asked.

“I wasn’t planning to, no,” Elizabeth replied, clenching her fist. Banks really wanted blood these days.

Catherine leaned back with a somber expression. Her blond hair was cut in a sleek bob and her expertly applied make-up softened the angular planes of her face. “I don’t see how we can loan you the money if you’re not willing to take a risk, too.”

“But I am taking a risk.” Elizabeth heard her voice rise. “I’m risking my store, my livelihood. I’m putting that up as collateral. You know me. I’d never default on a loan.”

Catherine shook her head. “People I never thought would default are losing their homes. Things aren’t the way they used to be, Elizabeth. Banks and credit unions don’t want to own businesses anymore than we want to own houses. We have to be careful about the money we lend.”

“But I’m not like that! I’m a good businesswoman. I built Beauty by the Bay from nothing. Doesn’t character matter?”

Catherine handed the papers to Elizabeth. “It’s strictly numbers these days, I’m afraid. You don’t have enough margin in the business to take on a new venture. And you can’t rely totally on a loan. If you’re not willing to invest your savings, I’m afraid I can’t help you.”

“I’ll get back to you,” Elizabeth said.

When hell freezes over.

She stood, stuffed the papers in her purse and slammed out of the credit union.

She willed herself not to cry as she unlocked the door of her little red sports car and slid in. Key in the ignition, hands on the steering wheel, she stared at the credit union logo, a sailboat speeding through stylized waves.

Maybe she should simply sail away from all her troubles. But who would she sail off with? Marcos?

Impossible.

She slammed the car in reverse and gave it gas without looking.

A blaring horn made her slam on her brakes, jerking her forward into the seat belt.

She turned off the car and leapt out. A large tan SUV blocked her path. The driver, a middle-aged portly man in a suit began yelling. “Are you stupid? You could have hit my car! I work hard for this car!”

Elizabeth walked forward, holding her breath. The SUV didn’t have a scratch on it.

“You idiot.” The man continued to yell. “You backed up without looking! What if it had been a kid on a bicycle?”

She strode over to the blustering businessman. “It wasn’t a kid on a bicycle. I didn’t even hit you. Stop shouting at me and move your damn car!”

“I never! You can’t talk to me that way!”

Elizabeth stabbed her finger at the man’s chest. “No, mister.
You
can’t talk to
me
that way! Get into your car and move it before I call the police.”

A crowd had begun to gather. The man glanced around. “Stupid woman. You’re all stupid,” he mumbled as he got into his car, slammed the door and roared away.

Elizabeth returned to her own car and slid back onto the driver’s seat, grinning a smile of satisfaction. For once in her life she stood up for herself.

It was only after she put her hands on the steering wheel she noticed they were trembling. That’s what she got for giving into impulse.

• • •

A few hours later, Elizabeth sat in her kitchen, a glass of pinot grigio on the table. She scanned the kitchen mindlessly. It sparkled from the scrubbing she’d given it when she’d returned from the credit union.

The ravioli press on the wall caught her eye and she stood up to get it. She ran her fingers over the old wood, wondering how many women’s hands had touched the press and what their lives had been like. Did the man they loved return their feelings? Had their lives worked out or had they struggled?

A knock on the door disturbed her.

“Yes?” she said when she opened the door.

A young Hispanic woman stood there. Elizabeth’s first thought was how beautiful she was.

“I … I … my name is Serena.”

“Hello, Serena. How can I help you?”

“I knew Joe.”

Elizabeth’s stomach flipped. A lot of people had known Joe; he’d lived in Costanoa all his life. But somehow, she didn’t think that’s what this woman meant. “How did you know my husband?”

The woman shrugged shoulders, her elbows bent with her palms facing skyward.

“Would you like to come in?” Elizabeth asked, the knot in the pit of her stomach growing worse.

Serena nodded and entered.

Elizabeth gestured to the sofa and said, “Would you like something to drink?”

Serena shook her head and sat. “I don’t know how to say this. I know it was wrong, but I loved Joe so much. We knew each other when we were little. In Los Baños.”

Vaguely, Elizabeth remembered Joe’s grandmother having a house in the small town in the San Joaquin Valley.

“We ran into each other in the tacqueria one day.” Serena shrugged again. “We had dinner and things happened.”

“How … how long?” Elizabeth’s heart pounded.

“Three years. Up until he passed.”

Three years. Elizabeth sank into the living room chair. Silence filled the room.

“Why are you telling me this now? Joe’s been gone for over a decade.”

Serena looked at the floor. “There was a child. A daughter.”

Elizabeth’s heart went through the floor. “He … I … he told me he’d had a vasectomy.”

Serena shook her head. “He did. But only after … .” She looked up, her brown eyes pleading for understanding. “It was an accident. He said he was tired of having accidental children and went the next day.”

“But we made love. I could never get pregnant again. There was nothing wrong with me.”

“I believe Joe … ” A wan smile crossed Serena’s face. “His sperm, they had a mind of their own. Not many. But enough.”

Enough was an understatement. Elizabeth gulped for air; there didn’t seem to be a lot in the living room. But Serena hadn’t really answered the question.

“But why are you telling me this now?” Elizabeth repeated.

“My daughter, she is sixteen now. She has gotten in trouble in Los Baños.” Serena glanced up at Elizabeth. “Pregnant. I have brought her to live with her grandmother in Watsonville. I hope it will be better for her here.” She shrugged again. “I work all day and have a second job at night to make ends meet. I cannot supervise her. My mother is strong.”

“Didn’t Joe do anything for you?”

“Oh, yes,” Serena said. “He put aside money. But it’s gone. Living is more expensive now than it was.”