The next morning Rosa went to Pegasus, a coffeehouse furnished with overstuffed sofas and chairs, low tables and a luxurious selection of biscotti. The café offered the New York Times and Boston Globe, along with the Providence Journal Bulletin and local papers. Rosa was friendly with the proprietor, Millie, a genuine barista imported from Seattle, complete with baggy dress, Birkenstocks and a God-given talent for making perfect espresso.
While she fixed a double tall skinny vanilla latte, Millie eyed the stack of notebooks and textbooks Rosa had set on the table.
“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?”
“It’s actually an amazing topic,” Rosa said over the whoosh of the milk steamer. “Did you know there’s 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 can’t buy.”
“Keeps me out of trouble, anyway.” Rosa had never left home, but over the years she’d managed to sample the finest places of higher learning in the world—genetics 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.
“You’re nuts,” Millie said with a grin. “We all think so.”
“But I’m 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 she’d 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 Chomsky’s Transformational Grammar.
Linda showed up wearing a T-shirt that read What if the Hokey Pokey is what it’s all about? and went to the counter to order her usual—a pot of Lady Grey with honey and a lemon wedge on the side. “Sorry I’m late,” she said over her shoulder. “I tried to get off the phone with my mom, but she couldn’t stop crying.”
“That’s sweet.”
“I guess, but it might be a little insulting, too. She was just so…relieved. She’s been worried that I’d never get married. A major tragedy in the Lipschitz family. So the fact that Jason’s Catholic didn’t 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, doesn’t it?”
“It’s gorgeous.”
Linda beamed at her. “I can’t wait to change my name to Aspoll.”
“You’re taking his name?”
“Hey, for me it’s an upgrade. We can’t 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. Jason’s company transferred him to Boise, and we’re moving right after Labor Day.”
Rosa smiled at her friend, though when Jason had told her that, she’d wanted to hit him. “So we have less than twelve weeks to plan and execute this wedding,” she said. “Maybe that’s why your mom was crying.”
“She’s loving it. She’ll be flying up from Florida next week. There’s nothing quite like my mom in event-planning mode. It’s going to be fine, you’ll see.”
She seemed remarkably calm, Rosa thought. The reality of getting married and leaving Winslow forever probably hadn’t 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. “There’s 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. I’m just surprised it took so long. But it’s 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. “I’m sorry.”
“It was just weird, okay? Weird to see that someone who was once my whole world is a stranger now. And I guess it’s weird because I had to imagine him having a life. I didn’t do that when we were little, you know? He’d 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 he’s existed for twelve years without me, which is completely no big deal.”
“Oh, come on, Rosa. It’s a big deal. Maybe it shouldn’t be, but it is.”
“We were kids, just out of school.”
“You loved him.”
Rosa tried her coffee and winced. Too sweet. “Everybody’s in love when they’re eighteen. And everybody gets dumped.”
“And moves on,” Linda said. “Except you.”
“Linda—”
“It’s true. You’ve 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 that’s why we got along so well.” Rosa looked at her friend. Clearly, Linda wasn’t buying it. “All right, what about Derek Gunn? Eight months, at least.”
“I’d hardly call that a lifelong commitment. I wish you’d stuck with him. He was great, Rosa.”
“He had a fatal flaw,” Rosa muttered.
“Yeah? What’s that?”
“You’ll say I’m petty.”
“Try me. I’m 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. “He’s 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 I’ll probably burn in hell for saying that.”
“It’s 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. You’ll make me snort tea out my nose.”
“Okay, so what are my issues?”
Linda waved a hand. “Uh-uh, I’m not touching that one. I need you to be my maid of honor, and it won’t happen if we’re not speaking. That’s what this meeting’s about, by the way. Me. My wedding. Not that it’s anywhere near as interesting as you and Alex Montgomery.”
“There is no me and Alex Montgomery,” Rosa insisted. “And—not to change the subject—did I just hear you ask me to be your maid of honor?”
Linda took a deep breath and beamed at her. “I did. You’re 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 friend’s hand a squeeze. “I’d 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. “I’d better let you go. You need to deal with Alex Montgomery.”
“I don’t need to deal with Alex Montgomery. There’s simply no dealing to be done.”
“I don’t think you have a choice,” Linda said.
“That’s ridiculous. Of course I have a choice. Just because he came back to town doesn’t mean it’s my job to deal with him.”
“It’s your shot, Rosa. Your golden opportunity. Don’t let it pass you by.”
Rosa spread her hands, genuinely baffled. “What shot? What opportunity? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“To get unstuck.”
“I beg your pardon.”
“You’ve been stuck in the same place since Alex left you.”
“Bullshit. I’m not stuck. I have a fabulous life here. I never wanted to be anywhere else.”
“I don’t mean that kind of stuck. I mean emotionally stuck. You never got over the hurt and distrust of what happened with Alex, and you can’t move on. Now that he’s back, you’ve 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.”
“He’s not in my heart,” Rosa insisted. “He’s not in my head.”
“Right.” Linda patted her arm. “Deal with him, Rosa. You’ll thank me one day. He can’t be having an easy time, you know, since his mother—”
“What about his mother?” Rosa hadn’t heard talk of Emily Montgomery in ages, but that was not unusual. She never came to the shore anymore.
“God, you didn’t 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.”
“That’s what it says. Doesn’t seem so old now that we’re nearly thirty.”
“I wonder what happened.” Rosa thought about the way Alex had been last night—slightly drunk, coming on to her. Now his recklessness took on a different meaning. He’d 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.”