The Icing on the Cake (7 page)

“How do you know that?” I asked, stunned.

“Miles asked me to help him out with his proposal. I had access to a lovely beach front property, and I arranged for him to propose there. He’s there now.”

“Oh,” I said flatly. I tried to squash the envious feelings. Why hadn’t Miles asked
me
to help with the proposal?

“I’m engaged too.” Rona flashed a huge diamond in my face. “His name is Tristan. I was on vacation in Rio de Janeiro and I met him at a church branch I attended down there. I extended my vacation, and we spent every waking moment together. He asked me after just three weeks.”

“Congratulations,” I said, forcing cheeriness into my voice.

“He’s a doctor. He’s still in Brazil teaching seminars on improving medical care.” She sounded like a girl showing off her Barbie dream house. “We’re having a short engagement. Just one month.”

“That’s great,” I said. “Well, Rona, my heart rate is going down. I should get back.” I gestured toward the treadmill.

“Of course,” Rona replied. “Oh, but wait, there’s one more thing. I’m throwing Carrie a surprise bridal shower in three weeks. I thought that I should probably include you in the plans since you two are so close.”

Excuse me? Excuse me?! You’re throwing my best friend a bridal shower and you
thought
you should include me?!

I forced a smile. “I would love to help.”

“I thought that since you work for the food section at
Central Coast Living,
the perfect job for you would be to find a caterer and plan the menu,” Rona told me.

“Great,” I said through my gritted teeth.

“Great,” Rona echoed. “I’ll be in touch. Tell Carrie congratulations for me, if I don’t see her first.” And with that, Rona sashayed off.

I stepped back onto the treadmill, fuming. I hadn’t even had time to digest Carrie’s engagement let alone think about throwing her a bridal shower. And now Rona was throwing it? Rona who spoke to Carrie, what, like once a week?!

Fueled by the fury inside of me, I turned on the treadmill and began to run faster than I had been running before. In fact, I ran faster than I
ever
had before. As the machine sped up to the 8mph I had set it to, I realized just how fast this really is.

I threw my legs forward wildly, trying desperately to keep up with the treadmill belt as it moved below my feet. I’m certain that I looked like an ostrich trying to sprint. I kept running, the anger still flowing through my limbs. But after only a few minutes, I started to feel ill. My heart was pounding much faster than I think it should have been. And I began to find it hard to breathe.

Gasping for air, I jumped off the machine and bent forward over my knees, taking huge, gulping breaths. The pain in my heart and lungs was so bad, I felt like I might pass out right there in the gym. It was some of the worst pain I have ever experienced.

And it was all Rona Bircheck’s fault.

“So, where are we going?” I asked Isaac.

“You’ll see,” he responded with a glint in his eye.

Isaac was driving me to dinner in his black, classic, 1968 Firebird. Mellow alternative rock music was playing on the car stereo. The evening was cool and breezy, and the bay was shimmering like glitter. The whole scene made me feel like I was in a music video or something.

“Will you tell me if I guess it?” I asked, peering over at Isaac.

“You’ll never guess it,” Isaac responded in a joking tone.

I faked an I’m-extremely-offended-that-you-have-no-faith-in-my-guessing-abilities frown. “Fine then,” I said.

Isaac pulled the car onto Highway 1, and the increase in driving speed sent the wind whipping through my hair. I took my hair into my hand and held it in a loose ponytail on the top of my head.

Isaac looked over at me. “Have I told you yet how gorgeous you look?”

I averted Isaac’s gaze and began playing with the seam on my favorite jeans—a $110 pair I got for $30 at Macy’s because they had a tiny hole in one of the pockets. I didn’t respond to Isaac’s question.

“Well you do,” Isaac said. “People are going to wonder what you’re doing with me.”

“I seriously doubt that,” I countered. Isaac was looking pretty amazing himself dressed in a pair of loose-fitting pants and a surfer-style polo shirt. His thick, dark hair was slightly tousled as if he had combed it with his fingers while driving with the windows down. The whole look was quite appealing. Dangerously appealing.

Isaac removed his right hand from the steering wheel and changed the CD changer to a new CD. “This is my favorite band,” he said as he advanced the CD to track three. “They’re called Gidget Goes Graceland.”

I held back a giggle as the band’s name conjured up an image of George’s assistant Gidget going to Graceland and coming back with a huge Elvis mug that she put on her desk.

The song Isaac played for me was soft and melodic and, of course, about a girl, and I quickly decided that I liked Gidget Goes Graceland. Just as the song ended, Isaac pulled the car into the parking lot of a shabby-looking hotel. He got out of the car and walked over to open my door for me.

“Here we are,” he said, extending his arm to me.

“And where is here exactly?” I asked apprehensively. It’s not my practice to enter shabby-looking hotels with men I don’t know all that well.

“Vaz Plaza. It’s a hotel and Portuguese restaurant. And they have Portuguese sponge cake. I wasn’t sure what kind of food you like, so I went with the one thing I know: You were willing to drive a hundred miles for Portuguese cake, so it must be pretty good.”

I couldn’t help smiling. I mean, Isaac had considered what food I like. That was a big deal to me considering I once dated a guy who for every date took me to Big Bernie’s Buffet because he had a year’s worth of coupons for the place.

“It sounds great,” I said. Then I paused. “But wait a minute. You’re telling me that there’s a place right here in the Monterey Bay area that sells Portuguese sponge cake?” I shook my head. “I wish I would have known that before I drove all the way out to Los Banos.”

“It may be selfish of me,” Isaac began, “but I’m glad you didn’t know about this place. I’m glad you had to drive all the way out to Los Banos.” Isaac’s lips curved up into a delicious smile.

I quickly looked away from him and began fiddling with one of the tiny beads on my black silk-chiffon top.

Isaac offered me his arm and led me toward the restaurant. As I rested my hand on his muscular forearm, my heart began to speed up, and my temperature rose slightly. And that’s when my brain piped up, and the two of us, me and my brain, began a silent conversation.

Isaac and I reached the restaurant’s entrance, and he held the door open for me as we stepped inside. Vaz Plaza was charming and warm. Solid wooden tables covered in embroidered tablecloths dotted the floor, each table lit by a delicate candle in a golden glass globe. A hostess with graying hair appeared in front of Isaac and me, carrying two menus. She led us to a table in the corner of the dining area and set the menus on the table as Isaac pulled out my chair for me.

The conversation between me and Isaac was easy as we split an appetizer and then enjoyed our main courses. When we had finished our meals, our waitress, a young, dark-haired woman, instantly brought out two slices of Portuguese sponge cake. I immediately began enjoying my slice.

“How do you like the cake?” Isaac asked, his voice expectant.

“Actually, I think I like it even better than Marcia’s,” I answered honestly.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I mean, it has more icing. And everyone knows the icing is the best part.”

“Oh yeah?” Isaac asked, raising an eyebrow slightly.

“Yeah.” I took a spoon off the table and filled it with a large amount of the cake’s sugary icing. I placed the spoon in my mouth and let the icing melt on my tongue. “Definitely the best part,” I said, my tongue sticky and satisfied.

Isaac leaned back in his chair and wiped his mouth with a cloth napkin. “Maybe I should have asked them to forget the cake and just bring out some icing.” He smiled into the napkin.

I twisted my lips embarrassedly. “Very funny.”

Isaac and I continued to talk and joke with each other as I finished my slice of cake and then enjoyed a few bites of Isaac’s. Okay, nearly half of Isaac’s.

Then the water I had sipped during dinner suddenly caught up with me. “Would you excuse me for a moment?” I asked Isaac. “I need to make a trip to the ladies’.”

“Of course.”

I took one last bite of Isaac’s cake before walking to the restroom.

While in the ladies’ room, I checked my teeth for anything unsightly that may have crept between them during dinner. After my teeth-check, I began practicing smiles in the mirror, trying to decide which one to flash at Isaac when I walked back out to the table. Not because I liked him and was practically bursting with flirtatious energy that I absolutely had to get out. Of course not. Just because it was the last time we would go out and I might as well make it pleasant for him.

I was practicing a smile I thought was the perfect mix between flirty and mysterious when a thirty-ish woman entered the bathroom. She saw me smiling at myself in the mirror and looked at me like I was a nut.

“Just practicing,” I said sheepishly.

I quickly exited the ladies’ room and headed back to the table, flashing my flirty-yet-mysterious smile at Isaac. I was pleased to see that Isaac was smiling too. But it only took a second for me to realize that he wasn’t smiling at me. No, he was smiling at a woman who was sitting in my seat. A gorgeous woman with lovely green eyes and shiny auburn hair.

He was smiling at Rona Bircheck.

The smile fell from my face, and I moved my feet quickly toward the table. “Rona what are you doing here?” I asked when I reached the table. I glanced at Rona’s left hand and noticed that the huge diamond ring she had flashed at me just hours earlier was no longer on her finger.

“I was just finishing dinner with a friend when I saw you two come in. I came over to meet your handsome date.” Rona smiled nauseatingly at Isaac. Engaged or not, she was the same Rona.

“This is Isaac,” I said, plastering a friendly expression onto my face.

I waited for Rona to give me back my seat. But she didn’t. So, since it was a two-person table, I had to grab a chair from a nearby table and squeeze in next to Rona. It was ridiculous.

“Yes, he already told me his name,” Rona said. “He also told me that you two are working together on some article. It’s nice to see that you’re writing again after what happened last time.”

I bit my tongue. And not figuratively either. I literally bit down on my tongue. Pretty hard, too. It was the only way I could stop myself from saying something less-than-nice to Rona. I mean, she knew what had happened with my last writing assignment because Carrie had told her, and it was just like her to bring it up in front of Isaac.

“My photographer has been letting me down lately,” Rona said, talking to Isaac more than to me. “So, I’ve asked Isaac to bring a portfolio down to my office. I bet he could help me sell houses.”

“I’m sure he could,” I said.

“Here is my card, Isaac.” Rona handed Isaac an ecru business card. “Call me and we’ll get something arranged.” She put extra emphasis on “call me.”

“Sounds good,” Isaac responded politely.

With her trademark poise, Rona stood up from the table and swayed off without another word to me.

“This is great,” Isaac said after a moment. “I could really use some more work.”

“Well good,” I said flatly.

“So how do you two know each other?” Isaac asked.

I wanted to say, “She stole my prom date and ruined my last year of high school.” But instead I said, “She’s a friend of a friend,” which was true. I wanted to add, “And she’s engaged, so don’t fall for her like pretty much every male on the planet does,” but, unfortunately, I just couldn’t find a way to work it into the conversation.

“I’m really glad she was here tonight.” Isaac glanced around the restaurant as if he were looking for Rona.

I nodded my head emotionlessly.