California Dreaming: Four Contemporary Romances (35 page)

Elizabeth nodded forcing the mascara-ruining tears back. In spite of her disapproval, her mother had been a strong figure in Elizabeth’s life until her death a few months before.

Sarah patted Elizabeth’s arm with her hand, an awkward attempt at reassurance. Elizabeth looked at her daughter and smiled. “Shall we go get some lunch?”

She linked arms with Sarah and they walked down the hill toward town. “I’m looking forward to your graduation from Berkeley. Things will be a little less tight and we can take more trips together. Maybe when you graduate, you can get a job at Long Marine Lab or the Monterey Aquarium. We can have lunch together once a week.”

Even as she said it, Elizabeth realized a life like that would sound stifling to her daughter. Heck, it sounded stifling to Elizabeth! Sarah needed to create her own destiny.

Unfortunately, that meant Elizabeth’s job as a mother was over. All she had was her small business in Costanoa and her memories. At thirty-eight, she was too young to be living only with her memories.

The image of Marcos appeared in her mind and she stifled a smile. Her mother would not have approved of her dalliance with Marcos. Elizabeth glanced at Sarah. What was her daughter going to say about her impromptu date?

“The trip’s been wonderful, Mom,” Sarah said, briefly resting her head on her mother’s arm.

An edge to her daughter’s voice made Elizabeth stop walking. “But?”

“Nothing.” Her daughter withdrew her arm from Elizabeth’s. “Can we talk about this later?”

“Out with it.”

Sarah sighed, took a few steps and perched on a nearby bench. “Last spring, I applied for a transfer to U.C. Davis. I got the acceptance letter right before we left. I want to go there in September.”

“Not go back to Berkeley? But what about your studies? You’re doing so well! Why on earth would you transfer to Davis when you’re about to be a junior?” Elizabeth’s voice rose in pitch with each successive question. It was a good thing her mother wasn’t around for this change of events.

“I’m good at the environmental stuff. And I care about the ocean. But it’s not my passion! I don’t want to spend my life examining mouse droppings. It’s just … I didn’t know what I wanted to do … when I met Rick at a party last year I became interested in what he was studying.”

“Rick — the guy you went out with last night.” Elizabeth began to pace on the sidewalk. She’d worked hard to get Sarah on the right path. Now her daughter wanted to throw it all away for some guy.

“Yeah. He’s a senior at Davis — studying culinary arts and restaurant management. I took a couple of weekend classes with him up there. I love it … especially the design and business sides.”

“A restaurant? What on earth for? There’s no job stability.”

“Mom, wake up. There is no job security anywhere.” Sarah got up and began pacing, too. “You own your own business, why can’t I? After we graduate, Rick and I want to find a small restaurant with some rooms to rent and create a destination spot. I’ll decorate, take care of the rooms, and handle the business side. He’ll do restaurant management and the food. It’s a great match.”

Elizabeth slumped onto the bench. “Are you sure you’ve thought this through, honey?” Elizabeth asked. “You’ve put a lot into your studies at Berkeley. The restaurant business is so crazy, so insecure.”

Sarah sat down and patted Elizabeth’s knee. “Don’t worry, Mom. It’ll be fine. We have lots of time to see if it works. And if we fail, we’re still young enough to do something else.”

“Are you in love with him?”
Is he good enough for you? What will people think if my valedictorian daughter owns a restaurant?

Most important. Will you be happy?

“In love with Rick? Maybe. I don’t know. He’s attractive.” She shrugged. “I like him. We have fun and work well together. I just don’t know if it’s the ‘forever’ kind of love.”

Did that mean she was sleeping with Rick or not?

A wave of uncomfortable silence arced between them.

Sarah jumped up from the bench and held out her hand. “Let’s go! I’m starved!”

After a moment, Elizabeth stood and cast one more look up the hill at her mother’s childhood home. The family had faced the unknown and crossed an ocean to a new life.

She would have to find her own courage to let Sarah run her own life and make her own mistakes.

But what would she do instead of guiding her daughter’s life?

Elizabeth’s low heels clacked in time with the muffled taps of her daughter’s flats as they walked down the street. She tried to concentrate on the faint rustle of the leafy trees and the scent of olive oil lifting from a dozen
trattorias
on their route. The warm air and murmur of voices in the background surfaced old memories: her five brothers squabbling at dinner, the rustle of her father’s newspaper, her mother’s iron hand that kept everything in order. They hadn’t been rich by any means, but they’d had enough.

Why couldn’t Elizabeth be satisfied with the life she had? She frowned in concentration.

“Mom,” Sarah said, linking her arm with Elizabeth. “It’ll be all right. This is why I didn’t want to tell you about the transfer. I knew you’d get all mopey and everything. It’s not the end of the world.”

It’s the end of the world as I’ve known it. And I don’t know what to do next.

“You need to get a life, Mom. Find a new man. Open another store. Go to college. Do something!” She practically dragged Elizabeth down the hill. “Let’s find the perfect place for lunch. One with rich Italian pastas, good-looking waiters and a view of the Mediterranean.”

Elizabeth smiled at her daughter’s joy.

They’d walked for about ten minutes, chatting about the sights, when Sarah stopped suddenly. “Wow. Look, Mom. You have to see this window. It’d be perfect for your store.”

Elizabeth looked. Dozens of bottles of skin care products nestled in dramatic sea-colored scarves filled the window. Pictures of lush-lipped models with radiant skin framed the display. A sigh of joy escaped her and she floated in the door. She couldn’t wait to get her fingers in the sampling jars.

Once inside she went from one counter to another, sniffing and touching the lotions and oils. Sarah was right beside her, grinning like an eight-year-old who had just presented her mother with her best school artwork.

An older man appeared at her side.

“Welcome to my store,” he said. “It is a privilege to have sophisticated women such as you,” his gesture included Sarah, “in my shop. Are you looking for something special?”

“Not really.” Elizabeth grinned.
Sheer flattery. And she loved it.
“My daughter saw your display. It was so luscious, I couldn’t wait to sample the lotions.”

He returned her smile. “Sensual, yes?”

“Yes. I love the way fine lotions make my skin supple and smooth. Yours are silky.” She gestured at the scarves that were artfully arranged around the samples. They were the same style and design as those in the window. “These are quite beautiful, too.”

Another smile crinkled under the man’s thick white mustache. “This is my family’s line of skin care,” he said. “And those scarves are my daughter’s designs. She does beautiful work, no?”

“Yes, she does.”

The man smiled proudly.

“Can you tell me about the products?” Elizabeth asked. The discovery thrilled her. These products could bring new life to her shop.

He glanced at her left hand and gestured for her to follow him to a far side of the store. “Here we keep our products for women who would like to find or keep a man.” A slight tinge of red crept up his neck.

She had to laugh. “
Grazi
, but I am not looking for a man right now.” A guilty thrill went through her as she thought Marcos.

Sarah nudged her arm. “Yes, you are, Mom.”

“Hush.”

The proprietor smiled. “You never know when you’ll find the one of your dreams. Here, smell. We call it
Amoré
.” He held an open jar toward her.

The scent was spicy with a hint of musk underneath. The imp who had been brought to life with Marcos’ touch shivered with sexual anticipation.

“Why don’t you get some, Mom?” Sarah asked.

Elizabeth shook her head. “I don’t need a love potion right now.” What she needed to do was keep her head.

She walked to the other side of the shop and pretended to examine the merchandise. Putting on her business voice, she said, “I’d like to be able to carry these in my day spa in California. Do you ship overseas?”

“I am sorry, but no. We are a very small company, family run. We made the decision a long time ago that this was the size of company we wanted to be. This way, everyone works a little and everyone can enjoy life.” His gesture included the world beyond the store.

Sounded perfect.
She wondered if she could get the lifestyle in a bottle. “I’d like to buy some of your family’s lotions while I’m here, then.”

“
Benissimo
! Let me get you a basket.”

A half hour later, Elizabeth had a large bag and an even larger dent in her credit card. “Coming, Sarah?”

“In a sec. I’ll meet you outside.”

“
Un momento
.” The proprietor handed her a pink notepad paper. “This is the company we work with to produce our lotions. Perhaps they know someone who would export Italian products for your store.”

Or help me create my own.

Where did that idea come from?

Elizabeth waited for her daughter on a park bench. Leafy trees arched overhead and the chirp of sparrows surrounded her. A young couple strolled by, arms linked, and heads touching in deep conversation.

Beginnings. Sarah was right. Elizabeth needed a new beginning.

She pondered the creation of her own line of lotions and smiled as she imagined a “Beauty by the Bay” skin care line featured in
Vogue
.

Sarah breezed out of the store, a small bag in her hand. “Mom, now I’m totally starved. We need to find a place to eat soon.”

“What’s in the bag?”

“I’ll show you at lunch.”

A
trattoria
near the deep blue waters of the Mediterranean captured their interest. Over lunch, Sarah seemed determined to rehash every moment of their two-week trip in Italy. Elizabeth was happy to follow her lead. Small talk kept her from having to tell her daughter she was going out to dinner with a strange Italian that night.

By the time they got to coffee and dessert, Elizabeth knew she couldn’t delay any longer. “You’re going to have to be on your own tonight,” she said.

“Why? Got a hot date?” Sarah grinned.

“Actually, yes.”

Sarah stopped smiling. “Who do you know in Italy?”

“I met Marcos last night.”

“You can’t go off with a man you only met last night! You don’t know anything about him! He could be a sex-trafficker or something!” Sarah’s voice screeched.

Elizabeth burst out laughing. “He’s the cousin of the innkeeper. He’s quite nice, although I am flattered that you think a sex trafficker would be interested in me.”

“Mother.” Sarah rolled her eyes. “You know you’re pretty enough to be on the cover of
Vogue
. Stop fishing for compliments.”

Elizabeth smiled. “There’s nothing to fear. I’ll be perfectly safe.”
I hope.
She patted her daughter’s hand. “But thanks for worrying.”

“I still don’t think you should go alone.” Sarah looked sternly at Elizabeth. “You should take a chaperone. Like me.”

“I don’t think so.”

“I’m serious, Mom. You don’t know this person.”

“Sarah. Stop. I’m going out tonight. You’re the one always pushing me to get a new life. Well, here it is and I’m grabbing it — at least for tonight. Now, what’s in the bag?” Elizabeth asked, looking for an excuse to stop talking about Marcos.

Sarah laughed and pulled out a jar of
Amoré
. “Perfect for your date!”

• • •

Elizabeth brushed golden shadow on her upper lids, highlighting her brown eyes. She glanced at the jar of
Amoré
on the counter. The container seemed to grow larger by the minute, almost mocking her for her efforts.

“Mom, c’mon.” Sarah knocked on the bathroom door. “What are you doing in there? You don’t have to get all dressed up. He might get the wrong idea.”

Elizabeth paused, her lipstick halfway to her mouth, and considered her daughter’s remark.

Marcos had stirred something within her that she hadn’t felt in a long time, if ever. Joe had been a loving husband, but she’d been a mother at seventeen. Not much time for romance. And the problem had become worse in the last years of their marriage.

And Bobby … well … She couldn’t say what was different, but going out to dinner with Marcos made her feel sexier than a weekend in bed with Bobby ever had.

She snapped the lipstick shut. Looking as attractive as she could was a risk, but the evening was only a casual date with a stranger she’d never see again. A harmless flirtation. Nothing serious was going to happen.

Then she remembered the touch of his hand on hers and a shiver went through her. A delicious tremor, to be savored, like a glass of fine wine. As long as she didn’t overindulge, she’d be safe.

She examined the results of her efforts. The sheer tawny lipstick gave her a look of sophistication. Her dark brown hair was swept up and gold drop earrings shined below her ears. A simple, but flowing dress with nodding sunflowers and stylish yellow heels completed the picture.

She pushed a wayward hair back in place. There. Ready to deal with the opposite sex.

She opened the door.

“Wow, Mom. If he doesn’t fall instantly in love with you, he’ll have to be halfway dead,” Sarah said. “I thought you weren’t looking for a man.” Her voice held concern.

“I’m not in the market for a man. This is only a fun date.”

“Right. Let’s go meet the man you’re not interested in, Mom.”

“Children,” Elizabeth said with mock horror.

“Mothers.” Sarah retorted.

They laughed as they rode down the tiny elevator to the first floor. Marcos was pacing in the small lobby. Elizabeth drank in the picture of his lean body and intense expression, feeling the heat of desire flush through her in spite of her resolution.