Much Ado About Mother (16 page)

CHAPTER 18

SUZANNA

S
uzanna waited for Rio to show up at her door. How important could this conversation be if they kept not having it? Was he avoiding her? She knew how his withholding nature had been catnip to her years ago, but did
he
know it? Was this some sort of seduction tactic? The idea that he might just be busy with his fledgling studio blew into her brain from time to time, but she discarded that thought immediately.

She was grateful that her own life was busy and she couldn't be all-consumed with Rio. Lizzy was changing by the day, discovering new reasons to say, “no”; “no” to getting dressed, “no” to going to bed, “no” to eating kale (although Suzanna suspected her mother of giving Lizzy sugary treats, she couldn't prove it). No after no after no, which rattled Suzanna, but Virginia took it in stride. It was good to have a baby expert on the premises.

Lizzy loved Piquant and that horrible little dog seemed to love her back. Piquant still growled at almost everyone who came near him, but Suzanna was happy that he'd made peace with her little one. Lizzy was not the gentlest of pet lovers. She would yank on Piquant's ears and squeeze his neck, but he just endured the lovefest. Suzanna would be so overwhelmed by the dog's good grace that she would try to pet him, but Piquant reverted to Chihuahua type immediately and would nip at her. If she found she needed to pick the dog up for any reason, she would throw a towel over him and scoop him up in that. The towel would thrash wildly, like an undulating beast.

Suzanna was standing in the apartment kitchen, looking through the cabinets for nutmeg. She was always surprised how much nutmeg you could go through when you ran a tea shop. She rubbed absently at her palms, which were still scabby from her spill over at Mr. Clancy's Courtyard. Her mother came in with Lizzy on her hip and Piquant already on his leash.

“We're going for a walk,” Virginia said.

Suzanna turned around. Was her mother wearing makeup?

“Where are you going?”

Her mother reddened.

“Just . . . out,” Virginia said.

Suzanna had been a teenager much more recently than her mother, and those words did not ring true. Suzanna was pleased that her maternal detective skills were on high alert. But what was her mother hiding?

“OK,” Suzanna said slowly. “Well, if you find yourself by the market on Main Street, will you grab some nutmeg?”

The tension visibly went out of Virginia.

“Sure,” Virginia said. “We can do that.”

As Virginia headed down the stairs, Suzanna listened as Piquant's tiny toenails tapped on each step. She heard her mother strapping Lizzy into the Jogger and the front door slam.

Suzanna still had an hour before she needed to head down to the tea shop. Eric was already in the Nook. Suzanna was surprised how quiet the apartment was. She didn't like it. She made Eric's favorite tea, a fruity number called Gibraltar Black Currant, and headed down to the Nook carrying two mugs. She was still in her oversized T-shirt and pajama bottoms, the ones with the rubber duckies on them. The odds were slim she'd run into a customer at this hour.

Good thing I'm not a gambler,
Suzanna thought as she looked into the Book Nook and saw a customer. Suzanna looked closer—this was not just any customer, this was Blu! What was she doing here?

Taking a cue from her husband, she decided to remain neutral until she had all the facts. She studied them. Eric was on one side of the counter and Blu on the other. Their heads were together as they laughed over that oversized comic book of Blu's. Virginia had mentioned something about Blu having a book at the Nook, and Suzanna had checked it out immediately. She thought it was ridiculous, self-serving, and took up far too much counter space, but she had too much on her mind to consider it further.

Blu was wearing what looked like sprayed-on running gear and very well-worn running shoes. Could she possibly have run all the way from Santa Monica and still look this cool? She was standing on her tiptoes, flexing her well-toned calves. Suzanna was proud of herself for not overreacting, but then she saw The Sign. As Blu leaned over the counter, she squeezed her arms together under her breasts, so they heaved forward. She casually turned a page in the book.

Knowing she could not wage battle in her pajamas, Suzanna tried to back slowly out of the room, but her elbow thudded against the wall. Eric and Blu looked at her. She could feel her cheeks turning red as she stood there in her pajamas, with bed head, holding on to two cracked mugs of steaming tea.

“Hey, Beet,” Eric said easily.

She couldn't hear any guilt in his voice but wanted to smack him for using her childish nickname in front of this slut.

Blu tossed back her hair and beamed. She was very aware that she was in control of the room.

“Oh,” Blu said with her twinkly laugh. “Did you bring us coffee?”

“Tea,” Suzanna said. She wanted to bite her own tongue.

Blu came over and took the cups, as if Suzanna were the intruder, not she. Blu handed one cup to Eric.

“I'm just checking on my book sales,” Blu said.

“Oh, that's right . . . you have a comic book,” Suzanna said.

“Graphic novel,” said Blu.

“Superblu and O'Brian . . .”
The blow glanced off Blu, who laughed and said,
“O'Hara!”
And then she shot an “It's us against her” smile at Eric.

“Blu says it's a circus over at Erinn's house and she couldn't take it anymore,” he said.

“What's up?” Suzanna asked, genuinely interested.

“Oh, the paparazzi is all over the place,” Blu said, shaking her curls and opening her eyes wide at Eric, even though she was talking with Suzanna. “I just get so tired of it. It's nice to just get away to someplace quiet and think.”

How could her husband be such an idiot? He never was very good at picking up the signals that a woman was hitting on him, but Blu was more obvious than most.

“Oh?” Suzanna said. She was torn between retreating upstairs, giving Blu the win, or jumping across the room and throwing her out on her flat ass. “Paparazzi? That's good for publicity, isn't it?”

“Depending on whose side you're on,” Eric said.

“Whose side are you on?”
Suzanna wanted to scream at him.

“Dymphna is totally stressed,” Blu added. “She says all the noise is freaking the rabbits out.”

“I've heard that anxiety is bad for their fur,” Suzanna said, horrified that she was engaging this woman in conversation.

“They might die!” Blu said. She tried to widen her eyes farther, but Suzanna noticed her face didn't move. “Dymphna says bunnies have very weak hearts.”

“Poor Dymphna,” Suzanna said earnestly. “She must be so upset.”

Blu shrugged. She opened up the graphic novel again and turned back to Eric, pretext forgotten. Suzanna could tell she had been dismissed. Suzanna willed herself not to float—this woman did not deserve to get to her! She stayed rooted, looking at Eric. He sensed her stare and looked back at her. He gave her an easy wink, as if they were both in on the same joke. They were together in this. Suzanna headed back upstairs. She decided the morning had ended in a draw.

By the time Suzanna ended up in the Bun's kitchen, she was showered and wearing a bright new peasant blouse, which she felt hid a multitude of sins. She had put on some lipstick and mascara as well. She knew she'd never be able to compete with Blu in sheer sex appeal, but Eric loved
her
. Showing a little appreciation wouldn't kill her.

As she started to make her nutmeg-scented scones, she realized her mother hadn't returned with the spice. Suzanna instantly changed gears, rummaging through her cabinets. She had a large bag of chocolate chips somewhere and her customers loved her chocolate chip scones. She missed Fernando, who had been her friend since high school and her first pastry chef. He would know exactly where he had put the chocolate chips. She could also use someone to talk to. She had so much on her mind. Eric. Blu. Rio. Not the sort of problems you wanted to discuss with your mother or older sister. While Eric knew about the whole Rio thing, he didn't want any details, but Suzanna had spilled her guts to Fernando. However, Fernando was miles away, having opened a successful bed and breakfast on Vashon Island near Seattle. Her other dear friend from the Napa Valley days, Carla, a busy architect in Northern California, would happily lend an ear, but she'd have no time for Suzanna's fantasies about Rio, and Suzanna would be embarrassed to admit she had no idea what to do about Blu.

She was on her own.

She located the chocolate chips. The bag had been opened. Suzanna remembered that her mother used to give them chocolate chips as a treat when she and Erinn were little.

With not enough chips and no nutmeg, Suzanna realized she'd have to run out to the store herself. She stuck her head in at the Nook to let Eric know she was going out. She was relieved to see Eric was alone but disappointed that he didn't comment on her makeup and new blouse. She thought about taking her bike but realized that if she ran into her mother and Lizzy, she'd rather walk with them, so she set out on foot.

She passed Donell but he didn't speak to her.
That's odd,
Suzanna thought. He was busy tying raffia around strands of sage. Perhaps he hadn't seen her. She had her mind on Blu and didn't realize she was walking by Mr. Clancy's Courtyard.

“Suzanna,” Rio called from the courtyard.

The voice was disembodied but she knew it was his. Why pretend that she didn't hear it? She stopped dead in her tracks. Rio came down the steps and closed the gap between them in seconds.

“Shall we walk?” he said.

At first, she thought he must have meant, “Shall we dance?” but realized that was ridiculous. They were on the Beach Walk. She nodded and started walking. He fell into step with her. Apparently, “Shall we walk?” did not include “Shall we talk?” because Rio said nothing. They continued down the Beach Walk in silence. Suzanna felt the electric charge she always experienced when he was near, but confusion was ruining the moment. Finally, Rio took her arm and led her to an empty playground. He leaned against the slide but still didn't say anything. Suzanna tried to find her voice. She really wished she had one of those clipped, disdainful English accents she'd heard on
Downton Abbey.
That would be just the ticket right now. But she only had her own voice to rely on and even that was iffy. She was afraid if she opened her mouth right now, her voice would come out wobbly or whiny. So she just stayed silent.

Rio wanted to talk? Then he could talk. Suzanna, of course, had imagined this moment since he'd come back to town. Actually, she'd imagined versions of it since he'd left Venice the first time. Variations on a theme: him telling her how much he missed her. How wrong he was to go. How he was in love with her. She also had rehearsed her part. Laughing at him while flashing her wedding ring in his face. She toyed with the idea of calling him “buster,” but feared that might not translate into Spanish and would just sound as though she'd forgotten his name.

As she watched his handsome profile looking out to sea, her heart softened. If he realized his mistake, she should take pity on him. It was too late but he would mend, just as she had done. Maybe she would introduce him to Blu.

“Suzanna,” he finally said, picking up her hand and gently caressing her fingers. “I made so many mistakes.”

Suzanna knew she could not speak. That wobbly voice was begging to come up. She could hear it in her throat. She waited, hoping she seemed mysterious and slightly bored instead of on the verge of hysteria.

“So many mistakes.” He shook his head as if he couldn't believe the pain he'd put her through. “I am happy to have my studio. I am happy to be helping those children. But I came back for you.”

He kissed the back of her hand.

“Rio,” she said softly, not trusting herself to say anything else.

“I'm in Alcoholics Anonymous and I am here to apologize to you. To make amends. It is step nine.”

Suzanna prepared to float away, but instead lost her equilibrium. Luckily, she was standing in front of a swing set and she plunked gracelessly onto a swing. Rio put his hand on the chain and swayed her gently. Apparently, he had said what he needed to say and it was her turn.

“You're in the twelve-step program?” Suzanna asked.