Raquel's Abel (19 page)

“There are only a few people in this world that experience real love.”

I didn’t say anything, because I was busy thinking about Abel and the way he’d held me and kissed me. His arms had been protective, yet kind, and his lips had seemed like they were only for me.

“My parents had real love, even though Rasputin was always trying to interfere with the affection they had for each other.”

“Grandmother, stop with all this nonsense.”

She raised her finger at me. “And I had real love with your grandfather.”

I remembered my grandparents’ devotion to each other. My grandfather’s eyes used to light up when Grandmother walked into the room.

“Real love is when you accept someone for who they are. It’s when you love someone without trying to change them.”

That’s what was so charming about Abel’s love. He didn’t care how big or small I was. He’d even looked at me with adoring eyes when I’d woken up from surgery, and I must have been a sight.

“Your grandfather guarded my secret jealously.”

“Secret?” Maria Elena had been watching the television, but when she heard the word secret she focused on Grandmother.

“You know, back then, if people had found out I was a Romanov, I would have been killed.”

“Killing you?” Maria Elena’s eyes had opened wide.

“Yes, people wanted to kill me because they thought I would try to reclaim the Russian throne.”

“Stop with this nonsense,” I said. “You have never been in Russia.”

“I’ll have you know I was born there.” She turned to Maria Elena. “Wasn’t I, Tatiana?”

Maria Elena looked at me then back at Grandmother.

“You can’t be Anastasia Romanov,” I said. “If you were, you’d be over one hundred years old.”

Grandmother fiddled with the buttons on her sweater. “I don’t believe I’m nearly that old.”

“Well, if you were Anastasia, as you claim, you would have been born in 1901. That would make you well over a hundred years old.”

“So old.” Maria Elena shook her head.

“Don’t believe a word of it, Tatiana. My granddaughter means well, but she is very mistaken.”

I took a deep breath and glanced at the necklace around Maria Elena’s neck. That still bothered me.

“I have let you change the subject on me, Raquel.”
Grandmother’s words drew my attention back to her.
“We were on the subject of real love, the kind that makes you feel like you’re alive and that no one else exists in this world.”

Maria Elena’s lips pinched together making her chin furrow. “I had real love.” The ends of her eyes dipped down sadly.

“What happened to him?”

“He still in Ecuador.”

“All of the Russian nobility had to escape.” My grandmother said then took a deep breath.

“Do you still love him?” I asked. Maria Elena’s face had turned melancholy, very out of character.

“I still thinking him.” She stared down at her hands.

“A real love is worth fighting for,” Grandmother said to me in an accusing tone.

Mitch wanted to see me again and I’d pursue that relationship. After all, he was a real man.

Chapter Eleven

Mitch had made reservations at the Jefferson that evening—the most elegant place in town. I was very excited to be going out on my second date with him. I didn't know why Regina and Owen were making so many comments about my lack of dating experience. I hadn't ever really dated anybody long term or anything, but I'd been out with a man before.

I'd tried those matchmaker websites and I'd met a few guys for drinks. Unfortunately, the men looking to date obese women were hardly interesting, and those that didn't actually request to meet a large woman usually left after the first few minutes, if they showed up at all. Judging by the number of times I was stood up, I suspected some scoped me from the front door then snuck out before I caught a glimpse of them.

Admittedly, Abel had been the first man with substance who had shown any interest in me. Just my luck he was flesh and bone for only moments, frustrating moments that left me longing for so much more.

What was it that Grandmother said? If he were more secure about our relationship, he'd be able to spend more time with me? I seriously doubted that. He felt plenty comfortable with me, so comfortable he played tricks on me. Actually I missed those tricks. Lately, he'd been horribly quiet. When he hid my things, at least I knew he was around and still thinking of me.

Why was that so important?

Mitch came to the door in a camel-colored turtleneck and dark brown trousers with stiff pleats down the front. I wore a dark orange jacket and slacks with gold threads and a matching blouse underneath. He gave me a broad smile as I opened the door. “You look great.”

“Thanks,” I said shyly. If things got intimate at some point, how would he react to the extra skin I had tucked tightly under my clothes?

“Ready for the Jefferson?” He said as he shut the car door behind me.

“I haven't been there in years.” This regal old hotel that featured a five-star restaurant was rumored to be the place where Scarlett O'Hara had fallen down the steps in Gone with the Wind. In actuality, Scarlett had fallen down the stairs on a movie set in Culver City, California, not even in the South.

“I made the reservations a week ago and they were almost booked up then.”

I watched Mitch steer the car down Cary Street. As we rounded a bend and I took in the skyline, I thought how Richmond's downtown had experienced periods of growth, decline, decay, and then regrowth. It was hardly the downtown of my childhood. I could still remember my mother and I putting on white gloves and hats to go shopping at Miller & Rhoads and Thalhimer's, Richmond's competing department stores. I always looked forward to the tearoom where we enjoyed sandwiches the size of quarters and fashion shows where local girls modeled the latest trends. Life had been good before Regina.

As we zipped down in his smooth-riding car, he turned to me. “Hey, I made my pitch for my new novel.” Mitch raised his eyebrows that caused his nose to arch slightly.

“How was it received?”

“They loved it.” He rubbed his knuckles on his shirt as if shining them. He looked at me ready for praise.

“I would love to have your self-confidence.”

“Read some of my books and you'll have all the self-confidence in the world.” He winked.

We pulled up to the Jefferson and I looked up to see the famous cupola rising above the rest of the pale brick structure. The hotel had been built in 1895 and had been one of Richmond’s most popular attractions since then. Our car doors were opened for us and we walked through the lobby where we both laughed at the fountain containing a concrete replica of an alligator.

“My father used to talk about the real alligator that had lived in the fountain years ago.”

“Really?”

“As anybody would have guessed, the reptile got way too aggressive and actually tried to bite someone.”

“No kidding.”

“It’s true. They had to get rid of him.”

“Yeah, this place is true class,” Mitch said as we walked through the rotunda where an alabaster statue of Thomas Jefferson towered over us.

I thought of Abel and how absurd I'd look going to dinner with him—walking around alone talking to myself.

Mitch pointed upward at the stained glass located at the pinnacle of the rotunda. “Glad I made reservations here.”

“It's beautiful,” I responded as he took my elbow and pointed.

“There's the dining room.” We walked to the entrance where we were behind some other people waiting for a table. “Don't worry. I insisted they give us a really good table,” he whispered in my ear as he stared at some people that had come up behind us in line.

I was busy looking around at the chandelier that deflected yellowish light around the marble columns and roman arches that surrounded the dining area.

After the other customers were seated, we were taken to a nice table with dark pink tulips in the center. “This is beautiful,” I said.

“Yeah, and are we lucky we got a table before those two.” He used his thumb to gesture at the people who had been standing behind us in line.

I turned my head and saw a man and a woman that were about the same size I had been. “How so?” I asked him afraid of the answer.

“Hey, after those two, there'll be no food left.” He raised his eyebrows at me as if he knew I'd be in agreement.

“I'm sure they have tried to do something about their weight problem,” I said diplomatically as I felt my heart sink.

“All they need to do is push.”

I thought I'd heard every fat joke there was. “Push? Like push ups?” Most people thought all you had to do was exercise a little and you'd get rid of those extra pounds.

“No, like push yourself away from the food.” He imitated pushing himself back from the table then banged his fist silently as he shook with laughter.

I closed the menu and laid it on the table. “You know, Mitch, when I ran into you at the meeting, that wasn't the first time I'd met you.” I tried to keep my face calm.

“I met you before and didn't remember you?” His eyes scrunched up as he studied my features. “Nah, I'd have remembered you.” He winked.

“Oh yes, you even sat next to me before, but I was considerably…” I lowered my head and looked into his eyes. “larger.”

He swallowed hard. “Larger? How much larger?”

I spread my lips out in a straight-lipped smile.

He looked down at the table. “Oh no. Maybe I do remember.” He took a deep breath. “You were that big...” He shook his head. “How did you lose all that weight?”

“By having a life-threatening operation.”

Mitch, who never seemed to be without words, was speechless. He just looked at me, unable to respond.

Someone without a lifelong weight problem would have been surprised at his attitude, but I knew better than to be shocked or appalled. There were so many people out there with attitudes like Mitch's. Then there were people like Abel.

What was I doing here?

“Mitch, thank you for the invitation, but I've lost my appetite. I think I'll be running along home.”

“Can I...?” He made an insincere attempt to get up out of his chair.

“No, no.” I stood up. “I'll get a ride.” Triumphantly I walked out of the restaurant feeling like I’d done the right thing. I was way too good for him.

I hurried through the enormous lobby, trying to get as far away as I could from the restaurant. I dug my hand down into my purse. I really hoped Abel hadn't taken my cell phone. Finally I felt the little rubbery buttons. I grabbed it and dialed. I hoped Owen wasn't working tonight.