Runaway Tide

by Julie Carobini

  She did not know exactly how long she stood there contemplating, but her stomach alerted her that a substantial amount of time had passed. Meg glanced around. The restaurant in sight overflowed with people and she doubted she’d find a table there soon.

  A couple of women peered into the restaurant. “Maybe there’s food at the top,” one of them said to the other, pointing to narrow, rough-hewn steps. They had apparently drawn the same conclusion about the wait.

  After they disappeared, she too decided to take the steps, following a maze to a restaurant at the top that boasted an even wider view than the one that had captivated her earlier.

  “May I seat you?” The hostess plucked a menu from her stack. “By the water?”

  “Yes. Grazie.”

  She ordered sparkling water and took in the view. A crew of teens dove into the translucent waters from a cliff, the air punctuated with their laughter.

  “We meet again!” The woman with the hat who had greeted her earlier in the day sat at the bar. She slid off her stool and approached Meg’s table. “I was so surprised to see the girl with the cane all the way up here. You are gutsy.”

  “I’m Meg.” She held out her hand.

  “Priscilla.” She grasped Meg’s hand with both of hers, as if they were old friends. “I’m visiting from Virginia, and you?”

  “California.”

  “Ah, we are from opposite coasts. She nodded at the empty seat across the table. “May I sit?”

  “Please.”

  Her gaze drifted to Meg’s cane, her brows arched in concern. “Was it difficult for you to climb up here?”

  Meg let out an embarrassed laugh. “No, no. I broke my foot recently—it has healed now. And someone, um, a friend, gave me this as a novelty.” She rested her hand on the ridiculous bottle handle.

  “And it works when you need it to.”

  “A little unwieldy to carry around, but yes, you are right. I’m not sure I would have ventured up here if I hadn’t brought it along.”

  “Well, then, we need to toast.”

  Meg reached for her water, but Priscilla gently stopped her with a wave. “I’ll order us a bottle of prosecco. May I?” She gestured toward the bartender. “Giovanni! Vorrei una bottiglia di prosecco, per favore.”

  Meg remarked, “Even asking for a bottle of prosecco sounds beautiful in Italian.”

  “Except for how I say it!” Priscilla laughed and removed her hat, revealing flowing red hair that trailed along her shoulder. “Thankfully, I taught myself a few phrases before embarking on this solo trip.”

  “And that was one of them?”

  “Why, yes, it was. No judging!”

  “I wouldn’t think of it.”

  Priscilla’s lilting laughter filled the space between them as Giovanni reached their table with the bottle. He filled both of their glasses and bowed slightly before leaving.

  Priscilla took a sip before asking, “So how about you? Are you here with friends, family?”

  No, yes, no … how was she to answer? When she didn’t reply right away, Priscilla’s smile turned sympathetic. “I see I may have poked a tender spot. You look a little like you’ve lost your way. I hope I haven’t disturbed your lunch … if you’d like me to leave—”

  “No. Please stay—I’m enjoying the company.” She fiddled with the stem of her wine glass. “I was just thinking about my response, about this trip in general.”

  “Has it been a good one?”

  Meg bit back an odd laugh. “Florence has been amazing. Beautiful. Gritty. Historic … I have enjoyed just about everything about it.” She soldiered on, skipping the parts about her whirlwind tour of the city with Jackson. “And you? Have you been to Florence yet?”

  “Yes. My first stop after Rome. I could have used a cane like yours after all the walking I did while I was in Florence—through the Boboli Gardens, the museums and piazzas. It was magical.”

  “Agreed. I’m staying with friends from the States. An older couple who live here now. But I decided to give them a break from my presence today.”

  “I’m sure they miss you.”

  She thought about Elena’s antics while shopping and her love of a good home-cooked meal. “I’m the one who misses them. They are precious people, really. I’m glad I will have another couple of days with them when I return.”

  “They sound lovely.” She glanced out to the expansive view beyond their table. “You know, I think I could sit right here all day and watch that sky change colors. Can you imagine living here centuries ago?”

  “I’m amazed that people found their way here at all. Forget about my cane, that’s fortitude for you.”

  “We have it so easy, don’t we?”

  “In some ways, we do. But there’s a simplicity here that intrigues me somehow.” She thought about the surrounding forest, the terraced hills, and imagined herself climbing them each day and taking in the view. “Maybe we don’t have it so easy after all.”

  “Ah. The simple life. Vita semplice!”

  Meg smiled at the toast and sipped her wine.

  Their waiter appeared at the table, pen and pad in hand. Meg ordered the fresh fish and Priscilla asked for the pasta with pesto.

  When he’d gone, Priscilla said, “This morning I climbed the watchtower. Have you seen it?” She pointed north. “The train arrived and I went there first, determined to take in a full view of the town. It was built to watch for pirates, you know.”

  “I didn’t know, but I’m not surprised. They saw what others had and their little black hearts tried to take it away.” She sighed. “I’m glad to know they failed.”

  Priscilla lifted her glass. “To the bad guys losing!”

  “Cheaters never prosper!” Meg said.

  “Off with their heads!”

  Meg giggled in response to Priscilla’s quote from Alice in Wonderland and added one of her own. “Curiouser and curiouser!” Her phone buzzed in her purse, but she ignored it.

  “Thank you so much for allowing this introvert to join you for lunch.”

  “Uh, I would not consider you an introvert.”

  “Oh but it’s true.” She blinked rapidly and quickly dabbed her eyes with her napkin. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I truly am an introvert, but after days and days traveling alone, I missed the sound of my own voice. Is that nonsensical?”

  “No, of course not.” Meg had been in that place many times before but had never couched her unease in that way. Travel had been the one thing over the years that she could count on to displace whatever it was in her head that needed to go. When she stepped onto a plane or strode into a convention hall filled with people and activity and purpose, she left all her unfinished truths behind. She’d been proud of the fact that those she’d met on her travels knew her for her skills in filling Sea Glass Inn and their smaller properties—and nothing else.

  Priscilla sighed. “I once read that keeping silent is a bigger sign of misery than if you talk about it.”

  “Then talk about it. I’m here and I’m safe.”

  “You are darling. Ah, the story is that my husband, Leo, was sick for a very long time and I’ve spent the last few years nursing him back to health.”

  “I’m so sorry. It must have been very difficult to see him suffer.”

  She grunted. “I only wish he suffered now.”

  Meg blinked. “I’m sorry? What do you mean?”

  “I nursed that man back to health and once he was well again, do you know what he up and did?”

  Meg wagged her head slowly.

  “He left me for someone else—a neighbor who used to visit him while I worked to pay the bills. I’d come home and tend to him … but it appears that she was tending to him during the day.”

  Oh no …

  The server brought over two plates, interrupting their conversation. The vibrant green of Priscilla’s pasta made Meg’s mouth water, but when the server set down the plate of fish in front of her, she gasped. Fish eyes stared back at her, the hea
d of her lunch still attached.

  “Oh my,” said Priscilla. “It’s as if they ran downstairs and plucked that beautiful pesca right from the sea.”

  “Si. Pesca … fresca!” Their server refilled their wine glasses before leaving.

  Meg bit her bottom lip and poked at the fish with her fork. “Here, kitty, kitty.” She looked up. “Just making sure.”

  This time when Priscilla held the napkin in front of her mouth it was to hide something else—peals of laughter. “Oh honey, we’re not in Kansas anymore.” She cracked herself up.

  With resolve, Meg carefully began the task of readying her fish to eat. “At least I didn’t order the beef.”

  Another roar of laughter from Priscilla’s side of the table.

  They managed to finish their meals and wine, then pay the old woman on the way out who counted euros at a small table near the front of the restaurant. “Have some limoncello before you go,” she said, pointing to a cart.

  Priscilla held up her shot glass. “To new beginnings.”

  “Here, here.” Meg nodded. “New beginnings.”

  They savored their liqueurs, said goodbye to the restaurant staff, and made their way down to the waterfront, making small talk like old friends. Priscilla turned to Meg. “You can’t leave until you dip your toes into the Mediterranean. You just cannot!”

  “I think you’re right.” Meg’s smile bubbled from somewhere deep. “Want to join me?”

  Priscilla hooked her arm under Meg’s. “I’ll lead the way.”

  Chapter 17

  Meg and Priscilla stepped across the pebbled beach and splashed around in the Mediterranean until the bottoms of Meg’s shorts had soaked through. Afterward, they each found a large rock to lounge on until the salt from the sea had baked into their skin.

  “I’ll show you where to shower off,” Priscilla told her with a sneaky wink. “It’s in plain sight, but nobody seems to know it’s there.”

  Sure enough, a hole in the rocks hid two showers. A mother was washing her baby in one, while her toddler in a pink bathing suit danced beneath the spray of the other to her inner music. As soon as they were finished, Meg and Priscilla commandeered the showers, rinsed the sea salt from their skin, and scrambled back up to the main part of town to grab gelato—cinnamon for Meg, pistachio for Priscilla.

  Meg’s train arrived to take her back to Florence, her skin and hair reflecting a day spent in the sun, but it was her heart that had experienced the most change.

  “I will miss you, my new friend,” Priscilla told her, hugging her tight. “Promise to keep in touch.”

  Meg hugged her back. “I promise.” Except for Liddy, she had few real friends and had wondered more than once if she was incapable of making them. A spontaneous day with her new red-headed friend changed all that and she knew she would remember this day for a long time.

  With some surprise, she found an open seat near the back of the train filled with bedraggled passengers whose faces glowed much like she guessed hers did. Conversations rose in pockets around her, some in languages she could understand, and some she could not. Her eyes felt heavy and she longed to allow them to close so she could drift away on the headiness of a day well lived.

  A ping reminded her that life still existed outside of this day trip to a magical village. She rummaged around in her bag and squinted at the screen.

  Two texts from Liddy:

  Was it as beautiful as the picture?

  * * *

  Jackson’s been barking around here all morning. Says it’s jet lag. Right!

  And one from Jackson:

  It’s important that I speak with you. Soon. I understand that you do not have phone access, but text me your schedule so we can meet as soon as you arrive back in California.

  * * *

  She allowed her eyes to flop closed and her mind to succumb to the rocking of the train car as it made its way back to Florence. Closing her eyes was the only way she could remind herself of the beautiful day she’d spent in one of the villages of the Cinque Terre—while also shutting out the impersonal text from a man who had said, not more than two days before, that he loved her.

  * * *

  Jackson leaned his elbows on top of his desk and rested his forehead on his fists. Something was off. Very off. He reviewed the latest figures Pepper had left for him for the third time this morning, trying to figure out how Riley Holdings could have lost this much money in such a short amount of time.

  His father had always been tight-fisted where money was concerned, one reason for the wedge that often landed between them. He winced, recalling the know-it-all way he spoke to him at times. “Come on, Dad. You’re the boss. Live a little!” What he really meant was, Stop being such a cheapskate! As your son, I deserve to have all my wants taken care of!

  No wonder his father had grown concerned about his offspring’s ability to run a company someday. Could he even do so now?

  He looked up to find Rudy trimming a hedge by hand outside of his office window. The older man lifted a gloved hand when he looked up, smiling at him as if all was well. He wished it were true. Not only did Jackson have a mess to untangle with the company, but he had left Meg in Italy with only hurt to remember him by.

  He dropped his gaze back down to his desk, lost in the memory of the way she had looked at him when he questioned her about Pepper’s accusation. The confusion on her face haunted him. Couldn’t he have waited until they had both returned home? Oddly, the minute he arrived back at the inn and told Pepper how he had confronted Meg, his sister seemed to lose interest. It was as if her fiery phone call across the world had never happened.

  His eyes grazed his phone. No text back from Meg. He puffed up his cheeks and exhaled. He’d been so preoccupied with the way he’d left her that he had dashed off a text to her during an early morning call with the local chamber of commerce board. Though he had not re-read that text, he feared it might have sounded more professional than personal.

  “Jackson.” He snapped a look up to where Pepper stood in the doorway. Speaking of the she-devil.

  “I have decided to take a trip to our property in Florida.” She examined her long black fingernails, her lips pursed. “I think I will stay quite a while. I assume there are no objections.”

  Well, a whoop just went up from the front desk … He leaned back in his chair, stretching his hands over his head, interlacing his fingers. “You thinking of relocating?”

  “I prefer the climate and the culture out there. California weather is too finicky.”

  “You mean, as opposed to hurricanes, which know exactly what they are after.”

  She blew out a huff. “The fog is so thick here in the summer that I think I will go mad. And anyway, someone needs to be an east coast contact. Your girlfriend won’t have to travel so much; it will save us money.”

  “My girlfriend.”

  Her grin grew across her face, stretching her lips like putty. He stared her down. “I had not realized you were away with your girlfriend when I called. Now that I understand the score, I will be more careful about what news I bring to you—and when.”

  “What’s your problem with Meg, anyway? You’ve never actually said, but it’s been obvious from the start that you have some problem with her.”

  She shrugged, the bones of her shoulders indenting the pale fabric of her blouse. “You exaggerate. It is only as I have said for as long as I have been here. Our sales director keeps a tight collar on our clients and that is dangerous. What if she were to up and leave us for the competition? She could take everyone with her. And then where would we be?”

  He had asked himself that same question. But this was Meg they were talking about. His mind wandered back to the rolling hills of Chianti, the smile that brightened her eyes, the sunroof open and her hair billowing every which way.

  He snapped out of it to find Pepper leaning close to him with that Cheshire cat grin, one stick-straight arm digging into his desk. “I asked you a question, but you are too
busy daydreaming to answer. This is why we have a problem.”

  He glared at her and pushed his chair back away from his desk. He stood behind the desk and leaned forward until they faced each other nearly chin to chin. “I suggest you pack your bags as soon as possible.”

  “Or what? Don’t tell me my little brother has a violent streak.”

  “Jackson?” Hans, the desk manager, stood at the door.

  “What is it?”

  “Uh, it’s Liddy. She’s … going to the hospital. She’s not feeling well.”

  He broke eye contact with Pepper and strode to the door. “How is she getting there? Her husband? If not, you take her.”

  “Certainly.”

  “And Hans? You tell her if there is anything she needs us to do, just ask.”

  He pivoted to find Pepper leaning against his desk, her long arms crossed in front of her, her eyes narrowed. “This is your problem. You are too busy taking care of everyone else’s business to run your own.”

  He breezed past her and sat behind his desk. “Send me fresh reports before you leave.”

  She dropped her arms by her side and marched toward the door.

  “And Pepper?”

  She spun around.

  He smiled slightly at that. “You may be moving across the country, but I’ll be keeping an eye on you.”

  * * *

  “It sounds like you had a lovely time in the Cinque Terre, cara mia. We have not visited in many years—too much walking for old people, I’m afraid.”

  “Speak for yourself!” Elena spun around and did a soft shoe, one hand on her stomach and another in the air. “I am fit as a fiddle! Alas, my husband is an old man now.”

  Domenic grimaced. “You are older than me, my dear.”

  Elena swatted at him. “It is never proper to speak about a woman’s age.”

  Meg laughed. “You are both forever young in my book.”