Сьюзен Виггс - Summer By The Sea

“Hello, Alex,” she said.

“Rosa.” He lifted the corner of his mouth in a half smile.

He’d been drinking. She wasn’t sure how she knew. But her practiced eye took in the tousled sandy hair, the boyish face now etched with character, the sea-blue eyes settling a gaze on her that, even now, made her shiver. He looked fashionably rumpled in an Oxford shirt, chinos and Top-Siders.

She couldn’t bear to see him again. And oh, she hated that about herself. She wasn’t supposed to be this way. She was supposed to be the indomitable Rosa Capoletti, named last year’s Restaurateur of the Year by Condé Nast. Self-made Rosa Capoletti, the woman who had it all—a successful business, wonderful friends, a loving family. She was strong and independent, liked and admired. Influential, even. She headed the merchants’ committee for the Winslow Chamber of Commerce.

But Rosa had a secret, a terrible secret she prayed no one would discover. She had never gotten over Alexander Montgomery.

“‘Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, he walks into mine,’” she said. She pulled it off, too, with jaunty good humor.

“You know each other?” The woman with the Marcia Brady hair had come back to claim him.

He didn’t take his eyes off Rosa. She refused to allow herself to look away.

“We did,” he said. “A long time ago.”

Rosa couldn’t stand the tension, although she struggled to appear perfectly relaxed as she offered an impersonal smile. “Enjoy your evening,” she said, every bit the hostess.

He looked at her a moment longer. Then he said, “Thanks. I will,” and he stepped into the bar.

She held her smile in place as he and the others settled into an upholstered banquette. The women looked around the bar with surprised appreciation. The norm in these parts consisted of beach shacks, fried food, dated seaside kitsch. Celesta’s one-of-a-kind bar, the understated handsomeness of the furnishings and the unparalleled view created an ambience of rare luxury.

Alex took a seat at the end of the table. The tall woman flirted hard with him, leaning toward him and tossing her hair.

Over the years, Rosa had kept up with his life without really meaning to. It was hard to ignore him when she spotted his face smiling out from the pages of a newspaper or magazine. “The thinking woman’s hunk,” one society columnist dubbed him. “Drives Formula One race cars and speaks fluent Japanese….” He kept company with billionaires and politicians. He did good works—funding a children’s hospital, underwriting loan programs for low-income people. Getting engaged.

Pharmaceutical heiress Portia van Deusen was the perfect match for him, according to the people-watchers. With a slight feeling of voyeuristic shame, Rosa had read the breathless raves of society columnists. Portia was always described as “stunning” and Alex as “impeccable.” Both of them had the social equivalent of champion bloodlines. Their wedding, of course, was going to be the event of the season.

Except that it never happened. The papers ceased to mention them as a couple. The engagement was “off.” Ordinary people were left to speculate about what had happened. There was a whisper that she had left him. And she appeared so quickly on the arm of a different man—older, perhaps even wealthier—that rumor had it she’d found greener pastures.

“Vince said he offered to beat the crap out of him,” said Shelly, holding aloft a tray of desserts and espresso.

So much for privacy. In a place like Celesta’s, rumors zinged around like rubber bullets.

“As if he could stand to have one hair out of place.” In spite of herself, Rosa smiled, picturing Vince in a fight. The sentiment was touching, though. Like everyone who had seen the wreckage Alex had left in his wake, Vince was protective of Rosa.

“Are you all right?” Shelly asked.

“I’m fine. You can tell that to anyone who’s wondering.”

“That would be everybody,” Shelly said.

“For Pete’s sake, we broke up eons ago,” Rosa said. “I’m a big girl now. I can handle seeing a former boyfriend.”

“Good,” Shelly said, “because he just ordered a bottle of Cristal.”

From the corner of her eye, Rosa saw the sommelier pop the cork of the bottle, listed at $300 on the menu. One of the women at Alex’s table—the flirt—giggled and leaned against him as he took a taste and nodded to Felix to pour. The six of them lifted their glasses, clinking them together.

Rosa turned away to say good-night to a departing couple. “I hope you enjoyed your evening,” she said.

“We did,” the woman assured her. “I read about this place in the New York Times ‘Escape’ section, and have always wanted to come here. It’s even nicer than I expected.”

“Thank you,” Rosa said, silently blessing the Times. Travel writers and food critics were a picky lot, as a whole. But her kitchen had proven itself, again and again.

“Are you Celesta, then?” the woman asked as she drew on a light cotton wrap.

“No,” Rosa said, her heart stumbling almost imperceptibly as she gestured at the lighted portrait that hung behind the podium next to the numerous awards. Celesta, in all her soft, hand-tinted beauty, gazed benevolently from the gilt frame. “She was my mother.”

The woman smiled gently. “It’s a wonderful place. I’m sure we’ll be back.”

“We’d love to have you.”

When Rosa turned from the door, she used every bit of her willpower to keep from spying on Alex Montgomery. She knew he was watching her. She just knew it. She could feel his gaze like a phantom touch, finding her most vulnerable places.

They had said goodbye many years ago, and it was the sort of goodbye that was supposed to be permanent. She wondered what he was thinking, barging in on her like this.

“May I have this dance?” Jason Aspoll held out his hand to Rosa.

She smiled at him. It was a well-known fact that on most nights, near closing time, Rosa enjoyed getting out on the dance floor. It was good marketing. Show the public you like your place just as much as they do. Besides, Rosa did love dancing.

And she didn’t like going home. There was nothing wrong with her place, except that it simply wasn’t…lived in enough.

“I’d love to,” she said to Jason, and slipped easily into his arms. The ensemble played “La Danza,” and they swayed, grinning at each other like idiots.

“So you finally did it, you big goof,” she said.

“I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“I know,” she said breezily, then patted his arm. “Seriously, Jason, I’m honored that you asked for my help. It was fun.”

“Well, I’m in awe. You managed everything perfectly, down to the last detail. Her favorite food was tonight’s special, the ensemble kept playing songs she loves…You even had special flowers on all the tables. I didn’t know Lily of the Valley was her favorite.”

“In the future, knowing her favorites is your job.” Rosa was always mystified that people simply didn’t notice things about other people. She had once dated an airline pilot for five months, and he never learned how she took her coffee. Come to think of it, no man had ever bothered to learn that about her, except—

“How does Linda take her coffee?” she asked Jason suddenly.

“Hot?”

“Very funny. How does she like her coffee?”

“Linda drinks tea. She takes it with honey and lemon.”

Rosa collapsed against him in exaggerated relief. “Thank God. You passed the test.” She didn’t mean to dart one tiny glance at Alex. It just happened. He was looking straight at her. Fine, then, she thought. Let him look.

“I didn’t know there was a test,” Jason whispered to her.

“There’s always a test,” she said. “Remember that.”

The music wound down and then stopped. During the polite patter of applause, Linda joined them.

“I’ve come to claim my man,” she said, slipping her hand into his.

“He’s all yours.” Rosa gave her a quick hug. “And that’s for you. Congratulations, my friends. I wish you all the happiness in the world.”

Linda jerked her head in the direction of Alex’s table. “What the hell is he doing here?”

“Drinking a $300 bottle of champagne.” Rosa held up a hand. “And that’s all I have to say on the subject. Tonight is your night. You and Jason.”

“You’re meeting me for coffee tomorrow, though,” Linda insisted. “And then you’ll spill.”

“Fine. I’ll see you at Pegasus tomorrow. Now, take your man and go home.”

“All right. Rosa, I know how much you did to make this night special,” said Linda. “I’ll never be able to thank you enough.”

Rosa beamed. The look on Linda’s face was reward enough, but she said, “You can name your first child after me.”

“Only if it’s a girl.”

She and Linda hugged one more time, and the happy couple left. The music started up again, Rosa went back to work and pretended not to see Alex ask the tall woman at his table to dance.

This was absurd, she thought. She was an adult now, not a wide-eyed kid fresh out of high school. She had every right to go over to him this minute and demand to know what he was doing here. Or for that matter, what he’d been doing since he’d said, “Have a nice life” and strolled off into the sunset.

Did he have a nice life? she wondered.

He certainly looked as though he did. He seemed relaxed with his friends—or maybe that was the champagne kicking in. He had an air of casual elegance that was not in the least affected. Even when she first met him, as a little boy, he’d had a certain aura about him. That in-born poise was a family trait, one she’d observed not just in Alex, but in his parents and sister, as well.

The quality was nothing so uncomplicated as mere snobbery. Rosa had encountered her share of that. No, the Montgomerys simply had an innate sense of their place in the world, and that place was at the top of the heap.

Except when it came to loving someone. He pretty much sucked at that.

Maybe he’d changed. His date certainly appeared hopeful as she undulated her “Sex and the City” body against his on the dance floor.

“You want I should break his kneecaps?” inquired a deep voice behind her.

Rosa smiled. “Not tonight, Teddy.”

Teddy was in charge of security at the restaurant. In another sort of establishment, he’d be called a bouncer. The job required a thorough knowledge of digital alarms and surveillance, but he lived for the day he could wield those ham-sized fists on her behalf. “I got lots of footage of him on the security cameras,” he informed her. “You can watch that if you want.”

“No, I don’t want,” Rosa snapped, yet she could picture herself obsessively playing the tape, over and over again. “So does everybody in the place know the guy who once dumped me is here tonight?”

“Oh, yeah,” he said unapologetically. “We had a meeting about it. We don’t care how long ago it happened. He was harsh, Rosa. Damned harsh. What a dickwad.”

“We were just kids—”

“Headed to college. That’s pretty grown-up.”

She’d never made it to college. Her staff probably had a meeting about that, too.

“He’s a paying customer,” she said. “That’s all he is, so I wish everyone would quit trying to make such a big deal out of it. I don’t like people discussing my personal affairs.”

Teddy gently touched her shoulder. “It’s okay, Rosa. We’re talking about this because we care about you. Nobody wants to see you hurt.”