Another Summer (21 page)

“Because under that candy-ass exterior, you’re a fairly sharp guy.”

He stared at her, trying to look pissed, but then he laughed and ruined the effect. “Lay it on me.”

“I’ll stop putting your name on all the flats I find that were planted wrong, if just this one night you treat me like you don’t think I’m the dullest penny in the stack.” Every time the plants were repotted at the nursery the person who did the work put his or her name on a tag. That tag stayed with the plants until they were repotted again.

“You’ve been putting my name on–”

“Not really. But I think about it. A lot. Especially when you’re giving me a hard time.” She gave him her best smile. “Consider that fair warning.”

“I knew better,” he mumbled. “I told myself not to get involved with you, that you were trouble, but no, I had to invite you to this party.”

“You’re not involved with me, Paul. We’re not even friends. So let’s just go to the party and get it over with, and then you can forget you ever met me. Well, you can in two weeks, after I’m gone.”

“Now that’s a deal I can live with.”

She shouldn’t have been disappointed, he’d given her what she wanted. Still, it would have been nice if he’d argued just a little.

  C
HRIS
S
ADLER’S HOUSE SAT AT THE
southernmost tip of the cove on a rocky outcropping that overlooked the entire Monterey Bay. The rock-and-brick house wasn’t as big as Maria had expected–she’d pictured something along the lines of the houses that sat on the side of the Berkeley hills–but it was still impressive. The shiny wood floors and fancy carpets, the white sofa and watercolors painted by Paul’s stepfather, Peter Wylie, and the huge windows that looked out on the ocean all spelled money. Not splashy money, like things people bought when they won the lottery, but money that was spent a little at a time because the person waited until he found just what he wanted.

If Maria ever allowed herself to dream about such things, this would be what she dreamed of.

A house far away from everything and everyone. A place where the only sounds came from birds and wind and water. No guns. No babies crying because no one cared enough to pick them up. No people yelling at each other.

Paul had made quick introductions when they arrived, and Maria had tried to remember some of the names, but the only one that stuck, other than Chris’s, was Janice Carlson. She had short dark hair, an athletic build, and was open and friendly with everyone. She seemed more like a “local” than the rest of the people there. Maria automatically gravitated toward her, sensing a social lifeline.

“That flower you’re wearing almost makes me regret cutting my hair,” Janice said. She handed Maria her requested soda.

Maria’s hand went to the flower and then her hair. “I’ve thought about having mine cut, but every time I get in the chair I chicken out.”

“It took me a whole year before I could work up the nerve, but I’ve never been sorry.” She smiled. “Until now.”

“Are you from around here?” Maria asked.

“Not originally.” She sat on a cushioned wrought-iron chair. Maria took the matching one opposite hers. “But I’ve been going to school out here for the past three years.”

“Oh? Where?”

“Stanford.”

Maria knew the school. You couldn’t live in

California and not know Stanford. It was one of those colleges so far out of her league she didn’t even allow it into her dreams. So much for the hope she and Janice would have something in common. Trying for a conversational tone, one that would make her sound as if she discussed this kind of thing all the time, she asked, “What are you studying?”

“I thought I wanted to be a lawyer, but wound up in economics.” She smiled. “I know, pretty boring stuff, but I find it fascinating.”

Maria had no idea what someone who majored in economics did. “What made you think you wanted to be a lawyer?”

“Actually, it was my dad’s suggestion. He said it was the perfect job for someone who liked to argue and wanted to be in charge. But then I moved out here and realized that part of my personality had more to do with what was going on at home than with who I really am inside.”

The simple statement was like opening a door for Maria. All her life her dreams had focused on what she didn’t want to become and where she didn’t want to be. She’d been running away instead of toward something, willing to settle for anything that would get her where she wanted to go. In a lot of ways, her dream had become her burden.

But it didn’t have to be that way. There was a world of possibilities, and there were dozens of roads she could travel to get where she wanted to go, roads that would let her enjoy the journey. Andrew loved what he did … and so did Cheryl. She wanted to be like them.

Chris came over, bent down, and gave Janice a kiss. She smiled and reached up to take his hand. “Did your mom ever call?” she asked.

“I forgot to tell you. There was a message on the answering machine when we got back from the store. She said they arrived safely and were on their way to buy a raincoat for Charlie.”

Janice looked at Maria. “Chris’s mother and Charlie are in London on their honeymoon.”

“How nice,” Maria said, wishing she could come up with something better. “London is on my list of places I want to see someday.” A list she’d just started.

“I visited Chris when he was there for a movie last fall and can’t wait to go back,” Janice said.

The moment, the people, the conversation were surreal. Was this really her, Maria Anna Ramos, sitting in this house, talking about Stanford University with someone who went there, acting as if a trip to England was a real possibility, casually listening to Chris Sadler’s girlfriend mention a movie he’d made, sitting not three feet away from Chris Sadler himself?

Deanna and Karen were never going to swallow this story. She could take a picture, and they still wouldn’t believe her. Evenings like this just didn’t happen to people like them.

Paul spotted them and came over. He handed

Maria a small plate with bite-size snacks that looked like miniature works of art. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” he said. “I was beginning to think you’d cut out on me.”

Cringing at the thought of what he would say next, she felt a flush of embarrassment sweep across her chest and up her neck. He must have noticed because he covered for her with a gentle kindness that took her by surprise.

“I gave Maria a hard time on the way here and never got around to an apology.”

Chris tugged on Janice’s hand and brought her out of her seat. “Seems to me these two need some time alone.”

Janice gave Maria a conspiratorial wink. “Don’t let him off too easy.”

Maria swallowed her protest that she and Paul weren’t the couple Chris and Janice thought they were. Instead she smiled, and said, “I won’t.”

Paul took Janice’s vacated seat and reached over to her plate to take a cracker with a dab of something white topped with a dab of something black. “So what do you think of Janice?”

“I like her. A lot.” She hesitated about saying the rest, but plunged ahead. “Does she know Chris is seeing someone else, too?”

Paul frowned. “Who?”

“Kelly McIntire.”

He laughed. “That’s not real. He only goes places with her as a favor and because they have the same publicist. She was afraid she was going to come across looking like a loser when she and that Hansen guy broke up, so Chris agreed to help out.”

Maria glanced at Chris and Janice and saw that they were still holding hands. “And Janice doesn’t mind?”

“They’ve been going together since he was seventeen and moved to L.A. to make his first movie. I guess she figures if he’s stuck with her all that time, there’s no reason to think he won’t keep sticking.”

She tried a cracker like the one Paul had eaten. It wasn’t like anything she’d ever tasted. “What is this?”

He looked at her warily. “Caviar.”

She didn’t say anything.

“Well?”

“What?”

“What do you think? Do you like it?”

“I think so, but I’m not sure.” It wasn’t something she ever expected to have again, so she tried another, wanting to remember what it was like. “Yeah, I do like it.”

He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, and pointed to another cracker with something pinkish red on a mound of white. “Try that one. It’s smoked salmon.”

When she hesitated he picked up the cracker and held it up to her mouth. “Come on–no guts, no glory.”

She’d never backed down from a challenge in her life, and it was just a little cracker. She came forward and opened her mouth. His fingers touched her lips naturally and easily, as if he fed her like this all the time. Acutely aware of the intimacy, she looked into his eyes to see if he’d felt anything and was pleased to see he wasn’t as indifferent as he would have her believe.

“What’s this one?” She pointed to a pastry with a sprig of something that looked like a weed on top.

“I’m not sure, but I think it’s a miniature quiche.”

“What’s a quiche?”

He told her what he knew, admitting it was probably wrong, and then went on to try to identify the remaining hors d’oeuvres on her plate. Some had to be tasted first. If there was only one, he took a bite and offered her the rest. She’d never shared food this way and decided it was one of the most innocent, yet intimate things she’d ever done with a guy. It was a dumb way to feel, and she was making way too big a deal out of it, but his easy familiarity made her feel special.

By the end of the evening she was almost as comfortable in this new environment as she was in her own. She liked these people, Chris and Janice in particular.

Chris saw them to the door when they were leaving. “Paul told me you’re staying in the beach house. How do you like it?”

“I love it,” she answered truthfully. “I’d stay there forever if I could.”

“I felt the same way. I tried to talk Julia and Eric into selling it to me, but they weren’t ready to let go.” He smiled. “I had to settle for this place.”

“Give me a couple of years, and I might be able to work up some sympathy,” Paul said.

Chris laughed. “Not buying it, huh?”

Janice joined them. “Chris has some work he has to do tomorrow, so I thought I’d go to Carmel to do some shopping,” she told Maria. “Want to come?”

More than anything. “I would–but I can’t,” she stammered. “I have to work, too.”

Paul added, “She’s helping out at the nursery. Andrew’s shorthanded, and that’s put us way behind repotting for the fall shows. He really needs Maria there.”

“Maybe next time,” Janice said.

She could have told Janice how much she wanted there to be a next time or how special the evening was to her or how important their conversation had been, but none of it could be said without making her sound needy. “Yes,” she said softly. “Maybe next time.”

She was quiet the five minutes it took Paul to drive her home. To thank him for all he had said and hadn’t said that night would be to acknowledge her insecurities. Experience told her he would expect a kiss, probably more. If she went along, it would change everything between them … again. They’d moved past adversarial into something she didn’t know what to call. It was the first time she’d ever felt this way about a guy and didn’t want to mess it up trying to make it into something it wasn’t.

Paul pulled into the driveway and turned off the car. He started to get out, and she put her hand on his arm to stop him. “I had a better time than I thought I would. I’m glad the other two girls turned you down.”

He looked at her for several seconds before admitting, “I didn’t ask anyone else.”

She wished he hadn’t told her. “You were right. Chris is just a regular guy.”

He nodded and reached for the key to restart the car. “See you in the morning?”

His eagerness to leave took her by surprise. She either got out of the car or gave him the impression she was waiting for the very thing she’d decided she didn’t want, for him to kiss her. “Yeah … What time? About nine-thirty?”

He frowned as if confused, and then remembered. “Don’t panic if I’m a little late. If there’s no fog, I’m going to catch a couple of waves before we go in.”

She got out of the car and stood on the porch until he drove away. How could she have been afraid he would want to kiss her and feel this bad that he hadn’t even tried? Something was wrong with her.

She needed to talk to someone, someone who would ground her in the reality of who she was and where she came from, someone who would get her head out of the fantasy of thinking she could ever be a part of the world she had seen that night. She didn’t belong there. She would never belong there. Not only didn’t she have the money to pay for the ticket, she didn’t know where to stand in line for the ride.

Cheryl had left a light on for her in the living room. Maria turned it off and quietly made her way down the hall to her bedroom. As she started to open the door, she heard voices coming from Deanna and Karen’s room.

Needing to be around people she understood and who understood her, Maria softly tapped on their door. Karen opened it just enough to see who was there. When she saw it was Maria, she opened the door a little farther and glanced down the hall toward Cheryl’s room.

“Home from your date already?” Karen hissed unpleasantly.

“What’s the matter with you?” Maria asked.

She glanced behind her. “Deanna’s driving me crazy.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Who knows.”

With a sigh, Maria said, “Let me in.”

Deanna was sitting on the bed, her legs drawn up to her chest, her chin on her knees. It was obvious she’d been crying. She wiped her eyes with a well-used tissue when she saw Maria. “Date didn’t work out?” she said sarcastically.

Maria looked from Deanna to Karen. Neither were dressed for bed. “If you two have got a bitch over me goin’ out tonight, let’s hear it.”

“We don’t give a flyin’ fuck what you do,” Deanna said, her lower lip quivering.

“Yeah, we like nothin’ better than baby-sitting Cheryl while you’re out screwing the locals,” Karen added.

Deanna straightened her legs and crossed her arms over her chest. She’d always worn her clothes tight, but with the weight she’d gained, they looked painted on. “How come you get to go out and we don’t?”

She went to work, watched movies, and sat on the beach when she had a day off. They went somewhere every day and made sure she heard what she’d missed. “Maybe because someone asked me.”

“I’m sick of this shit,” Karen said. “I’m going home tomorrow.”

Deanna let out a soft wail and burst into tears. “If you go, we all have to go. And I don’t want to. I like it here.”

Karen gave her a disgusted look. “You like it because you get to eat all the time, and no one’s on your case. Wait till Jake sees you. He’s gonna take one look and that’s the last one you’ll ever get from him.”

“Whatever.”

Maria didn’t believe Deanna’s attempt at disinterest for a second. She’d had a thing for Jake since the second grade and had almost dropped out of school the year before, despite making the honor roll, just because he dropped out. Something wasn’t right. She sat on the end of the bed, bringing her legs up and tucking them under her.

“So what’s up with you and Jake?” Maria asked.

“Nothing.”

“Like hell,” Karen said, the words harsher than the tone.