by Anita Hughes
“Hopefully just stale crusts.” Rosie put down the knife and brushed tears from her eyes.
“Are you crying, dear?” Estelle stepped closer.
“I’ve been chopping onions for hours.” Rosie sniffed, wiping her hands on her jeans.
“Rosie, sit down.” Estelle pointed to the kitchen table. “You’ve been so quiet the last few days. You’ve said almost nothing at dinner and Morris said you haven’t been eating breakfast.”
“I’m not hungry in the morning,” Rosie answered.
“You used to wolf down Peg’s blueberry pancakes. I hope you’re not working too hard! You didn’t have to help with the July Fourth party.”
“I want to help,” Rosie said, and pushed the hair from her eyes. “It gives me a chance to try my recipe before the store opens.”
“Did you call Ben and tell him not to come to the party?” Estelle inquired.
“I don’t care if he comes.” Rosie shrugged.
“It doesn’t look that way to me. Would you like me to call him, or Angelica could tell him not to come,” Estelle offered. She folded napkins into neat squares and stacked them on the counter.
“Ben and I were together for ten years.” Rosie looked at Estelle. “I should be able to be in the same house with him. Anyway, he probably won’t come. He’s probably attending some celebrity-filled bash in Malibu.”
“It will be a fabulous party and I want you to have fun,” Estelle replied. “We’ll have a pancake breakfast in the morning, followed by games on the lawn. In the afternoon we’ll move to the pool. I’ve hired a magician and a juggler to perform. In the evening there will be cocktails on the porch, followed by dinner on the lawn. I hired the most marvelous jazz band, and there will be a twelve-tier chocolate cake for dessert.”
“A magician!” Rosie exclaimed.
“Thursday we’ll have champagne brunch in the conservatory. Nobody gets up before noon, but I instructed Peg to leave coffee and muffins in the kitchen, just in case. After brunch, Oscar will lead a tour of the grounds. People from LA love to see his car collection and all his Grammys. I’m going to show off my new tea roses: my Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton are in bloom.” Estelle paused. “The grand finale will be a magic show on the lawn! I know magicians are for children, but this guy is marvelous. If Ben shows up, you can ask him to saw Ben in half.”
“I’ll think about it.” Rosie grinned.
“Really, Rosie, you are as pale as my tuberoses.” Estelle inspected her closely. “If you’re nervous about the fish taco shop, you can delay the opening.”
“I can’t wait for the opening!” Rosie insisted. She stood up and walked to the sink.
“It’s going to be a huge success. I’ve told my garden club and my book club all about Rosie’s Fish Tacos.”
“I hope you’re right. Sometimes I think I have no idea what I’m doing,” Rosie said uncertainly. She rinsed a tomato and picked up the knife.
“I thought Josh was helping you at the store.” Estelle folded the last napkin. “Morris said he prepared a picnic for you and Josh the other day.”
“Josh was helping.” Rosie’s eyes filled with tears. “But I haven’t seen him in a few days.”
“Rosie! You are crying and there isn’t an onion in sight,” Estelle exclaimed.
“Josh and I were getting to know each other.” Rosie put down the knife. “We’d go to the beach after work or just sit around and eat pizza. He was a great help getting the shop ready.”
“What happened, dear?” Estelle put her hand on Rosie’s.
“A few nights ago he took me to these incredible gardens called Lotusland. We had a picnic under the stars and he kissed me.”
“Lotusland!” Estelle started. “I haven’t heard that name in years.”
“After he kissed me, he behaved oddly.” Rosie grimaced. “I haven’t seen him since. He hasn’t been at the store and I haven’t seen him on the grounds.”
“Oh, I see,” Estelle said slowly. She fiddled with her earrings as if she was thinking what to say. “Do you have feelings for him?”
“Josh is funny and sensitive and he has the most beautiful blue eyes.” Rosie gulped. “But he doesn’t believe in relationships or marriage.”
“A kiss is hardly a proposal.” Estelle tapped her fingernails on the table. “If you like him, you should tell him.”
“Tell him?” Rosie repeated.
“Tell him you enjoy his company.” Estelle nodded. “You can even say you love the color of his eyes, men like compliments. If you let him know you’re not looking for a commitment he won’t run away.”
“It’s nice to have a friend,” Rosie said, remembering the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled. “He made me laugh.”
“I saw him in the garage earlier.” Estelle waved towards the French doors. “He’s polishing Oscar’s cars for the weekend.”
“I’ll go talk to him.” Rosie wiped her eyes. She walked to the French doors and turned around. “How did his parents die?”
“What did you say?” Estelle looked up from the napkins.
“Josh mentioned his parents are dead,” Rosie continued. “But he didn’t say anything else.”
“Goodness!” Estelle jumped and walked towards the entry. “I forgot they’re delivering the ice sculpture! I better tell them where the walk-in freezer is or it’ll melt all over my foyer.”
Rosie watched Estelle cross the lawn and wondered why she was in such a hurry. Could there be something Estelle wasn’t telling her? She gathered a stack of napkins and reminded herself to ask Estelle about it later.
* * *
Rosie opened the garage door and saw headlamps and gleaming bumpers. She smelled leather and wax and cherry air freshener. A radio blasted and there was a silver tray with half a turkey sandwich and a glass of lemonade.
“Hi!” she called out, suddenly wondering if she should turn around and leave.
“Hey.” Josh poked his head out of an orange Fiat. He wore a faded t-shirt and khaki shorts and flip-flops on his feet.
Rosie remembered the touch of his lips on hers and the weight of his chest. She tried to smile, but her face froze and she glanced nervously at her hands.
“I was just passing by,” she explained. “Estelle said you were polishing cars for the party.”
“Oscar wants every car to shine.” Josh nodded. “I’ve been working around the clock.”
“Need any help?” She walked towards the Fiat. “I’ve been on onion-chopping duty, but I had to take a break. My eyes were watering and my feet were killing me.”
“I’m almost done.” He put down a jar of car wax. “Just the Aston Martin and the Bentley.”
“Then I better go, there is still lots to do.” She paused and looked at Josh. “You’ve been such a help with the taco shop, I wanted to return the favor.”
“I owe you an apology.” Josh touched her shoulder. “I asked you to a picnic and I kissed you.”
“Didn’t we apologize enough when we first met?” Rosie smiled.
“I kissed you and then I disappeared,” he said firmly.
“You’ve been busy getting ready for the party.” She ran her fingers over the Fiat’s bumper.
“I was scared,” Josh continued as if Rosie hadn’t spoken. “I don’t want to lose your friendship.”
“How would you do that?” Rosie asked, sitting on a workbench against the wall.
Rosie studied a silver Porsche with chrome wheels and black leather seats. She imagined sitting in the passenger seat, cruising along the Pacific Coast Highway. Josh would be driving, his surfboard sticking up in the back. He’d point out surf spots with one hand draped across her thigh.
“Some people can’t sing or draw.” Josh sat beside her. “I can’t be with someone long-term—”
“Singing and drawing are talents,” Rosie interrupted.
“So is being in a relationship,” he said earnestly. “I can’t argue like some couples, and act as if things are going well when I thi
nk they’re about to fail.”
“Not everyone is like Sally. Just because she broke up with you because you didn’t want to be a lawyer doesn’t mean it would happen again. Lots of couples want the same things.”
“Like you and Ben? Or Angelica and Matthew?”
“Like Oscar and Estelle, or Rachel and Patrick,” Rosie countered.
“Wait till Rachel and Patrick have to choose between having a rabbi or a priest at their wedding.” He chuckled. “Or when they have to decide whether the Easter bunny will come to their house or if they will put up a Christmas tree.”
“It was just one kiss,” Rosie said quietly. “It didn’t have to mean anything.”
“You’re smart and sensitive, but you’re also beautiful.” He touched her hand. “I don’t want to have a fling and lose a friend.”
“So you only have flings with enemies?” Rosie tried to laugh.
“I meet pretty women sometimes,” Josh admitted. “But I don’t often meet someone who’s happy sharing peanut butter and jelly and a carton of milk. Or someone who’s happy sitting on the sand and watching me surf.”
“Should I have demanded caviar and champagne?” She punched his arm playfully. “Or expected you to take me to the opera?”
“I shouldn’t have kissed you.” He took her hand and held it in his palm.
“Kissing was nice.” Rosie nodded and remembered what Estelle said. “But I could use a friend who makes a mean peanut butter sandwich.”
“That’s a relief. Thank god I learned how to spread jam on a slice of bread.” Josh wiped his brow.
“At least you’re not allergic to peanut butter,” she answered, and thought of Ben. “When you’re around I can eat peanut butter whenever I like.”
Rosie sat in the back of the Bentley while Josh polished the dashboard. The steering wheel was maple and there was an ivory chessboard between the seats. They chatted about the Fourth of July party and the American flag Estelle had created in the flower bed.
“I usually stay in the garage the whole weekend and avoid the party.” Josh shuddered. “There are too many fake tans strutting around the lawn.”
“Estelle wants to introduce me to all the guests.” Rosie rolled her eyes. “She wanted me to print business cards announcing the grand opening of Rosie’s Fish Tacos.”
“If you need to escape you can hide in the garage,” he offered.
“I’ll keep it in mind.” She glanced at her watch. “I should go. I told Estelle I’d help with the place cards.”
“Don’t let her put you next to an aging movie executive with a hairpiece and false teeth,” he grinned. “He’ll promise you a job as long as you take a spin with him in his convertible.”
“I’ll make sure I sit next to Colby Young,” she teased him.
“Colby Young is nineteen!” he exclaimed.
“Nothing wrong with a little eye candy.” She smiled and turned towards the exit.
* * *
Rosie walked outside and took a deep breath. She was relieved that she and Josh were friends. She hadn’t realized how she missed his laugh, the way his eyes sparkled when he talked.
Workers strung colored lanterns over the grass and carried vases bursting with flowers. Round tables were draped with silk tablecloths and topped with silver candelabras. There was a dance floor painted with red roses and a stage full of gleaming brass instruments.
“What do you think?” Estelle had changed out of her khakis and sneakers. Her floppy hat covered her forehead, and she wore white slacks and an emerald-green blouse.
“It’s a scene from A Midsummer Night’s Dream,” Rosie breathed.
“We’re going to serve prime rib and oysters on the half shell and jumbo shrimp. I reminded the band I wanted them to play Cole Porter and Louis Armstrong.”
“It’s gorgeous.” Rosie felt a pinprick of excitement. There would be twinkling lights and waiters passing around champagne flutes. Maybe Ben would apologize for everything that happened and she’d dance and eat oysters. The mist would settle over the lawn and the air would smell of cigars and perfume and the whole night would be unforgettable.
* * *
Rosie heard Ben’s voice before she saw him. She was chatting with Angelica in the library when she heard a couple exclaim over the paintings in the hall.
“Is that a real David Hockney?” a female voice asked.
“I’ve been here before,” the man responded. “The house is full of original artwork. There’s a Manet in the living room and a Degas in the conservatory.”
Rosie gripped her champagne glass so tightly she thought it would splinter in her hand.
“Breathe,” Angelica instructed. Angelica wore a white flapper dress and double strands of pearls around her neck. Ruby earrings dangled from her ears, and she wore a sapphire ring on her right hand.
“We need to start a personal collection, sweet cakes,” the woman continued. “Some modern pieces, a Schnabel or a de Kooning.”
“I love Schnabel,” the man agreed. “His plate paintings were extraordinary.”
“Sweet cakes!” Rosie fumed when the couple had wandered off. “Mary Beth has known Ben for two months and she’s already calling him sweet cakes. What’s he going to be in a year: honey pie? Why is he here with her anyway! I’m the one who invited him; how dare he bring that viper in a skirt and heels.”
“Ben didn’t bring her,” Angelica said slowly. “She’s the plus one of Scott Hines. He’s a film producer who is friends with my father.”
“I don’t understand.” Rosie’s heart beat faster.
“All the guests are allowed a plus one,” Angelica explained. “My mother says people in Hollywood change partners so frequently it’s impossible to keep track of who is dating whom. Mary Beth came with Scott; she must have found Ben as soon as she arrived.”
“But Ben came to see me,” Rosie said. “I’m the one who invited him. How dare she crash the party.”
“She didn’t technically crash it, she does have an invitation. You’ll have to ask Ben why they’re together,” Angelica agreed. “I’m very sorry, I was about to tell you that Mary Beth is here. That’s why I came to find you.”
“I can’t ask him now, he’s busy planning his new collection. Ben doesn’t even like art,” Rosie continued, too angry to respond to Angelica. “Ben and I have only been in New York once and we didn’t even go to the Met. We spent all our time in the East Village watching low-budget films by NYU students.”
“I’d like a Schnabel in my apartment.” Angelica sipped her champagne. “I love his use of form and color.”
“Ben was making it up. He wouldn’t know a Schnabel if it was standing in front of him,” Rosie fumed. “He loves films by Truffaut and Godard and Francis Ford Coppola.”
“It doesn’t matter if Ben has taken up nude water polo,” Angelica interjected. “You’re not together anymore.”
“What’s he going to do next?” Rosie demanded, and spilled champagne on her dress. “Perhaps he’ll host dinner parties with live sharks as centerpieces.”
“We didn’t have to invite him,” Angelica reminded her. “Why don’t I tell them that you’re feeling a little under the weather and it would be better if they left?”
“You and Dirk are going to spend four months on location with Ben and Mary Beth.” Rosie grabbed a stack of napkins from the sideboard and patted the stain on her dress. “Now that she’s here, I’m going to have to deal with it. I need to be able to hear their names without falling apart.”
“It’s barely been a month.” Angelica hesitated. “Maybe it’s too early to see Ben’s face.”
“Are you worried I’m going to make a scene?” Rosie asked. “I promise I’ll behave.”
“You might want to start by not shredding the cocktail napkins.” Angelica pointed to the wad of napkins at Rosie’s feet.
“I’m working on it,” Rosie answered anxiously, and tossed the napkins in the garbage.
* * *
Rosie move
d to the kitchen to check on her fish tacos. She stood at the window and lanterns swayed in the breeze and guests nibbled hors d’oeuvres. The band was playing “What a Wonderful World,” and couples glided across the dance floor. It wasn’t even dusk but there was already an unreal feeling in the air as if nothing existed beyond the tall iron gates.
Rosie’s day had started off perfectly. Estelle had convinced her to have a massage, and she lay under hot towels having her body pulled and pummeled. She ate blueberry pancakes for breakfast and chatted with a few early arrivals. Then she jogged ten laps around the lake, went back to the cottage, and climbed under the down comforter.
When Rosie woke it was late afternoon. Sleek sports cars pulled up the driveway. The band was rehearsing, and she heard Estelle directing the caterers. She sat in the bath for a long time and when she stepped out she felt sexy and excited.
She slipped on her red silk dress and stepped into her new Manolos. She marched across the lawn feeling like Scarlett O’Hara in Gone With the Wind. She would worry about Ben and Josh and the fish taco shop tomorrow. Tonight she was going to enjoy the party.
* * *
But now she stood at the sink in the kitchen and her eyes filled with tears. She was suddenly back in their bedroom in Santa Monica with the sheets twisted on the floor. Ben had denied that anything happened and then finally mumbled Mary Beth’s name. The man she had loved for ten years became a stranger in a single afternoon.
“You look like Nero watching Rome burn.” Morris appeared in the kitchen. He wore white tie and tails and black wingtip shoes.
“Wow!” Rosie turned from the window. “You look fantastic.”
“Oscar likes everyone to dress the part.” Morris fiddled with his bow tie. “I don’t mind. It reminds me of my stage days. Let me guess, Ben made an appearance.”
“He hasn’t seen me yet, but I heard his voice,” Rosie acknowledged. “With Mary Beth, discussing art. Ben doesn’t have any interest in art, the only things on our walls were movie posters. Mary Beth came with another guest, but she’s attached herself to Ben like a barnacle on a rock.”
“A few years ago Oscar held a small dinner party; Neil was the guest of honor. His latest album had just gone platinum and he arrived in a chauffeur-driven Rolls-Royce. I watched him step out of the car, followed by Amber and a couple of blond groupies. Neil passed right by me and didn’t even nod.”
