Market Street

by Anita Hughes

  “You look gorgeous. Better than Jennifer Aniston after she dumped John Mayer. Where do you want to meet Aidan?”

  “Not the living room, I’d feel like Queen Elizabeth. And not the library, too Donald Trump.” Cassie frowned.

  “How about the conservatory?” Alexis sprayed Cassie with a bottle of Obsession.

  “I didn’t know you had a conservatory.”

  “Carter had it built after he returned from Vienna. It gets lovely light in the afternoon.”

  Cassie sat down on the ottoman. “Aidan’s my husband and I feel like I’m going in front of the firing squad.”

  “Remember, he’s the one who committed the crime.” Alexis pulled her to her feet. “And no bringing him up to the second floor. I don’t want him getting you horizontal until you know that’s what you want.”

  “You mean no fucking.” Cassie grinned.

  “You’re a fast learner.”

  * * *

  Cassie waited in the conservatory. It had a bay window overlooking the garden, and a white baby grand piano with a framed photo of Alexis and Carter in Gstaad. She heard the door open but she didn’t turn around. Aidan put his hand on her shoulder and sat down on the piano stool beside her.

  “I’ve missed you.” He pulled her against his chest. She could hear his heart beating and taste coffee and cinnamon on his breath.

  “I’ve missed you too.” She got up and sat down on the armchair by the window.

  “I brought you a present.” Aidan handed Cassie a brown paper bag. He wore tan slacks, a brown turtleneck, and loafers.

  “What is it?” Cassie took out Maria’s Burberry lunch box.

  “I made a sun-dried tomato panini with a special pesto sauce.”

  “Thanks.” Cassie put the lunch box on the side table. “I’m not really hungry.”

  “Christ, Cassie”—Aidan stood above her—“I was so worried you were sick and Alexis wouldn’t let me near you. This has gone on long enough. You need to come home.”

  “I don’t know if I’m ready to come home,” Cassie replied.

  “Do you want me to beg?” he said angrily. “I will never meet a student outside of office hours again. I fucked up, Cassie, I know I fucked up.” Tears sprang to his eyes.

  Cassie gulped. The only times she had seen Aidan cry were when he and Isabel fought. When Isabel was a little girl she’d storm up to her room and Aidan would hunch over the kitchen table, eyes filling with tears. Cassie would sit in his lap, wrap her arms around him, and tell him he was a great dad.

  “I know you do.” Cassie nodded.

  “I haven’t lied to you and I won’t lie to you, ever.” Aidan walked to the window. “I’ve almost finished my paper. If it gets accepted, we can go to the conference together. It’s in Florence in April. We can take day trips to Venice and Rome. Remember the pine nut pasta with pesto sauce we ate in Rome?”

  “Yes.”

  “I made the same pesto sauce for the panini. Try it.” Aidan picked up the lunch box and snapped it open.

  Cassie smelled tomatoes and garlic, oregano and onions. She took a small bite of the toasted bread. “I’m really not hungry.” She put it back in the lunch box.

  “Then let’s go home and I’ll feed you soup till you get better. I’ll get the purple asparagus you love and make cream asparagus and mushroom.”

  “You haven’t let me say anything,” Cassie interrupted, twisting her wedding ring on her finger.

  “Sorry, old habit.” Aidan sat on the piano stool. “I’m listening.”

  Cassie took a deep breath. “You don’t know what it’s like to have the image of you and Molly running through my head. It’s like a movie I can’t switch off. I want to love you, but the image doesn’t just go away.”

  “Cassie, you have to love me,” Aidan pleaded. “I need you to love me.”

  Cassie wanted to get up and sit next to him on the piano. She wanted him to play “Let It Be” or “The Long and Winding Road” or any other Beatles song they listened to while curled up on the sofa at night. She stood up and knocked over the lunch box. Panini and lettuce spilled on the floor. She bent down and stuffed bread and tomatoes back in the lunch box.

  “Come here,” Aidan said, “I know an old Billy Joel song.”

  “No.” Cassie sat down on the armchair. “I’m not ready, Aidan. I’m sorry.”

  “What do you mean you’re not ready?”

  “I’m going to stay with Alexis for a few weeks.”

  “A few weeks? Christ, Cassie. What do you want me to do?” Aidan jumped up.

  “I want you to wait,” Cassie said slowly.

  Aidan rubbed his hands through his hair. He jammed his hands in his pockets and paced around the room. He walked back to the window, leaned down, and kissed Cassie softly on the lips. “Okay, I’ll wait.”

  * * *

  Alexis walked into the conservatory and placed Poodles in Cassie’s lap. “I just saw Aidan leave. He looked like Johnny Depp in Edward Scissorhands.”

  “He wanted me to come home.” Cassie stroked the puppy’s fur.

  “And your answer was?”

  “That I need more time. Could I stay here for a while?”

  “Of course you can! Carter won’t be home for two weeks. You can have the Scarlett O’Hara suite on the third floor.” Alexis sat down on the piano stool.

  “You could always turn this house into a theme park if you need extra income.” Cassie grinned.

  “Give me the scoop. Did Aidan get down on his knees and grovel?”

  “He said he was really, really sorry.” Cassie nodded slowly. “If his paper gets accepted to the conference he wants us to go to Italy together.”

  “Make-up travel is even better than make-up sex. He’ll take you to the most romantic places and feed you grapes and caviar.” Alexis walked over to the window. “Mmm, what’s that smell?”

  “Aidan made me a sun-dried tomato panini.” Cassie pointed to the lunch box on the side table.

  “It smells divine, can I have a bite? I’m starving. I did a two-mile run while Aidan was here.”

  “It fell on the floor.”

  “I don’t care. Pia keeps these floors clean as the White House.” Alexis opened the lunch box and picked up the sandwich.

  “I knocked over the lunch box by accident and the sandwich fell out. I remembered the night I drove here: Aidan came home; I was sitting in the kitchen. He put the lunch box on the table. I made him lunch that day: roasted turkey sandwich on wheat bread. When I bent down to pick it up, there was a cupcake doily in the lunch box.”

  “I don’t get it.” Alexis shook her head.

  “I didn’t put a cupcake in his lunch box.”

  “Oh, come on.” Alexis put the sandwich down. “An empty cupcake wrapper is hardly a matchbox from Motel Six. One of the other professors could have had a birthday, or he could have bought something at a bake sale on campus.”

  “That’s my point.” Cassie handed the puppy to Alexis. “I can’t interrogate Aidan about every little thing, but I can’t doubt him either.”

  “I’m still not seeing this clearly.” Alexis kissed the tip of Poodles’s nose.

  “If Aidan had a cupcake wrapper in his lunch box before he fucked Molly I would have just thrown it away. Now I can’t stop thinking about it. Did Molly bake him cupcakes? Did another student give it to him? I can’t live with him unless I completely trust him.”

  Alexis hugged Poodles. “Maybe I’m lucky Carter travels so much. I can’t watch his every move. What are you going to do?”

  “Stay here for a while. Maybe with a little time and space I’ll be able to look at Aidan and not wonder what he’s been up to.” Cassie’s eyes filled with tears.

  “I’m sorry, Cassie.”

  “I’ll catch up on my reading.” Cassie brushed the tears away. “Maybe I’ll reread Anna Karenina or Madame Bovary.”

  “Reading about women who didn’t have Internet access or cell phones isn’t very helpful.” Alexis fed Pood
les a corner of the bread. “Their lives aren’t relevant.”

  “Right now I’d like to go upstairs and lie down.” Cassie stood up.

  “You have another visitor,” Alexis said sheepishly.

  “Who?”

  “Your mother called and I let slip that Aidan was here. She figured the quarantine was over and wanted to see you right away. You know I’m afraid of your mother. She’s in the library.”

  “If she finds out what Aidan did, she’ll ship me off to Vegas and sign the divorce papers herself.” Cassie put her head in her hands.

  “Tell her your house flooded and you’re staying here while they fix the roof.”

  Cassie looked up and smiled. “You really are a good liar.”

  “Fibber,” Alexis corrected her, “and always for the right reasons.”

  * * *

  Diana sat in the high-backed leather desk chair, tapping her cigarette holder on the desk. She wore a cowl-necked wool sweater with an ostrich-skin belt cinched at the waist. Her hair was brushed smoothly to her chin and she had a silk scarf tied at her throat.

  “Alexis has an interesting decorator. I feel like I’m in a Dickens novel.” Diana glanced at the rows of leather-bound books lining the bookshelves. The floor was covered with an Oriental rug and an ivory elephant stood by the fireplace.

  “She has a little too much time on her hands,” Cassie said. Looking at her mother, who was all pent-up energy and drive, Cassie suddenly felt exhausted. She wanted to go upstairs, drink hot tea, and climb into bed.

  “You look dreadfully pale and there are huge circles under your eyes.” Diana eyed Cassie critically.

  “I haven’t been on vacation, I had a fever for five days.”

  “I don’t understand why you’re here.”

  “Our roof leaked in the storm. Aidan and I thought it would be better if I recuperated somewhere dry.” Cassie studied the pattern on the Oriental rug.

  “You should have come and stayed with me,” Diana replied huffily. She stood up and walked to the bookshelf. She wore three-inch ivory heels with delicate satin bows.

  “You turned my room into a music room when I went to college.”

  “You could have stayed in the guest room. When are you going back to Berkeley?” Diana asked.

  “I love your shoes.” Cassie tried to change the subject. “New designer?”

  “James is working faster than I expected. I want you to start buying food for the emporium.”

  “I thought you came here to see if I was feeling better.” Cassie felt light-headed. She debated pouring a shot of brandy from the decanter on the sideboard.

  “Of course, you shouldn’t come into the store till you’re rested. But you could contact growers by phone, make appointments. James has already ripped out the whole basement. He’s ordered the counters and food cases. You should see the artwork he commissioned: people carrying baskets of cherries, sacks of oranges, milling around a village square. It’s like a modern Bruegel, it’s fabulous.”

  Cassie hesitated. “I don’t know, Mother, I’m really weak.”

  “I hope this isn’t about Aidan. You can’t spend your life being his geisha. He can’t complain you’re spending too much time in the city if you’re staying here anyway.” Diana poured herself a shot of brandy.

  Cassie closed her eyes. Aidan hadn’t consulted her before he gave Molly Payne her Christmas present. He hadn’t asked her if it was okay to visit a student’s apartment. He hadn’t required her permission to have sex with Molly on her futon.

  “Okay, I’ll do it.” Cassie opened her eyes. “I won’t promise that I’m taking the position permanently. But while I’m staying here, I’ll give it a try.”

  “I’m so pleased,” Diana said genuinely. She poured another shot of brandy and handed Cassie the glass. “I propose a toast: to a new era for Fenton’s.”

  Cassie clinked crystal shot glasses. She swallowed the brandy. It burned her throat and hit the empty space in her stomach.

  8.

  Cassie sat in the living room of the Scarlett O’Hara suite, sifting through a pile of boxes. Her mother sent her four pairs of wool pants, six cashmere sweaters in different colors, and a selection of dresses from Michael Kors, Stella McCartney, and Ella Moss.

  “Mother, I have clothes. I was going to send Pia over to Berkeley to pick them up.” Cassie picked up the phone when the red Fenton’s boxes arrived at Alexis’s front door.

  “Your clothes are dated. You have to set an example when you walk around Fenton’s. Women want to buy what you’re wearing,” her mother replied. “I’m late for a meeting with a calligrapher. The announcements for the opening of the emporium look brilliant. I wish you’d hurry and come into the store.”

  “Soon, Mother.” Cassie hung up. She tried on pleated navy pants and a pale pink sweater. She brushed her hair and tied it back with a pink ribbon.

  She knew she should go to Fenton’s. Leaving Alexis’s house, except to take Poodles for a walk, was proving difficult. She felt a pain in her chest when she saw a girl with feathery blond hair, or a man who wore a leather jacket like Aidan’s. It was easier to stay upstairs.

  Alexis knocked on the door. “Aidan sent another care package.”

  “Should I call him and tell him I can’t eat a gallon of soup every day?” Cassie shook her head.

  Aidan had been delivering thermoses of soup with notes written on yellow Post-its. “Clam chowder and no one to share it with.” “Split pea with snap peas from your garden.” Half a counter in Alexis’s kitchen was filled with thermoses and Tupperware containers.

  “He sent pizza.” Alexis handed her the cardboard box.

  Cassie opened the box and took out the card. “‘I tried to make our favorite pizza but I’m missing the most important ingredient: you. I’ll wait as long as I have to.’”

  “I think Aidan’s been watching daytime soap operas.” Alexis took out a slice of pizza. “This is pretty good. Your husband is quite the chef.”

  Cassie turned back to the piles of clothes so Alexis couldn’t see her crying.

  “You’re crying again, aren’t you?” Alexis finished the piece of pizza. “Come on, we have to get you out of here. I’m taking you to Fenton’s today.”

  “I can drive myself.” Cassie wiped her eyes.

  “I don’t trust you. You’ll drive around the block and sneak back upstairs to read Anna Karenina. I’m taking Poodles to ‘puppy and me yoga’ anyway, we’ll drop you off.”

  * * *

  Cassie felt better the minute she walked through Fenton’s double glass doors. The front of the store smelled like Sarah Jessica Parker’s perfume Lovely. White lilies announcing a January white sale were placed on counters, on top of display ads, behind cash registers. Women jostled one another to grab one-thousand-count Egyptian cotton sheets and terry bath towels.

  She had forgotten the thrill of being in the midst of so much activity. The buzz in the air was intoxicating. Cassie found herself stroking a white silk robe, though she had no intention of buying one.

  “Good afternoon, Cassie. It’s wonderful to see you.” Derek wore a black suit and a crisp white shirt. He had a white lily pinned to his suit pocket.

  “Hi, Derek. I came to see my mother.”

  “She went to lunch at Waterfront with the sales rep for Estée Lauder.” Derek held Cassie’s hand to his lips.

  “Oh.” Cassie frowned. “Maybe I’ll come back tomorrow.”

  “Your mother told me you’re going to head the food emporium. She’s been telling everyone you’re going to inject the store with new life.” Derek kept her hand in his. “Why don’t you go downstairs and see how it’s coming along?”

  Cassie took the escalator down to the basement. Workers were everywhere: hammering, painting, carrying industrial-sized fridges. James was standing in the middle of the space, staring at a marble bust of a Greek god.

  “I didn’t know you wore glasses,” she said, and immediately wished she hadn’t. James blushed a de
ep red and took the glasses off to rub his eyes.

  “I don’t wear them for business meetings because they make me look like I’m twelve years old. But contacts make my eyes water.” He smiled.

  Cassie turned to the statue. “Let me guess. Dionysius, god of excess?” The marble figure was in a semi-reclining position, nibbling a bunch of grapes and holding a marble goblet.

  “I prefer to think of him as god of wine and food. I want the customer to have the feeling of abundance and decadence,” James replied earnestly. “What do you think?”

  “It’s too bad there isn’t a female god who represents those things. But I guess Hera was always in the kitchen with a needle and thread.” Cassie walked around the statue.

  “You studied Greek mythology?”

  “I attended the Convent of the Sacred Heart. The classics were an important part of the curriculum,” Cassie replied.

  “At St. Ignatius we sang hymns every morning. In senior year there was a required trip to the Vatican.” James dusted the bust with a white cloth.

  “I traveled to Italy a couple of years ago,” Cassie said.

  “I haven’t been back since a post-college backpacking trip. Next time I want to stay in a hotel, not on the floor of a youth hostel.” James motioned for her to follow him.

  One section held a brick pizza oven, a panini press, and a large fondue pot. A floor-to-ceiling wine rack took up another wall, and a corner of the store was built out to resemble an English library.

  “I’m going to put a fireplace in here and fill the bookshelves with jams and jellies. I thought we could have toasters on the tables so shoppers could toast their own bread.” James moved his hands when he talked.

  “How about scones with clotted cream? I always envied the British their afternoon tea because it’s an excuse to eat jam and whipped cream before dinner.” Cassie walked over to the bookshelf.

  “I like that.” James pulled up the cuff of his shirt and looked at his watch. “I haven’t stopped for lunch. Will you join me in the café upstairs? I can tell you my ideas for lighting and artwork.”

  Cassie rode beside him on the escalator to the fourth floor. James wore a yellow collared shirt and khaki pants. His hair was brushed to one side and smoothed down with gel.