These Foolish Things

by Thatcher, Susan

  Liz shrugged and managed a bright smile. “Hey, we both know Angie got the last good man. I’m just waiting for her to kick you to the curb so I can make my move. You, me and a bottle of Viagra. Whaddya say?”

  “Hey!” Vinnie playfully slapped her wrist. “Nice girls don’t talk like that!” He put a hand to her cheek. “It’s no good you being alone, Liz. You need a good man. We worry about you.”

  She opened her mouth, but Vinnie cut her off. “You need love. You need to be loved and you need to give love. End of discussion.”

  Papa Vinnie had spoken. He put both hands on her face and frowned in concern.

  “Your face is so cold! Where did you walk from, Alaska? Angela! Get out here!” Vinnie yelled the last in the direction of the kitchen.

  Angela DiNardo emerged from the swinging doors leading to the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. “Vinnie! Could you be any louder?” She spotted Liz and held out her arms. “My girl! Lizabetta! Vinnie! Why didn’t you say so?” This, thought Liz, was exactly what she needed. Mama Angie gave hugs that could cure just about anything. It wasn’t just the firm embrace and Angie’s softness that made them special. Somehow, some of the warmth from her big, generous heart would find its way through Angie’s arms and into Liz’s soul.

  Angie held Liz out at arms’ length as Vinnie had done. Liz looked back into a face that had grown more beautiful with time. Angie had been a knockout in her twenties, but now, despite some wrinkles, added weight and gray hairs, age had only softened her beauty, made it mortal. Vinnie said it was the beauty of Angie’s heart that showed on her face.

  Right now, Angie’s brown eyes examined Liz closely. “What’s wrong? Why are you really here?” Angie’s eyes narrowed as she studied Liz’s face. “You’re in love. Why do you look so miserable?”

  Score one for Angie, thought Liz. “Who says I’m in love?” she asked. “For all you know, I could just be getting over the flu.” Angie lightly smacked Liz’s head. “Don’t lie. You’re in love. I can see it in your face and it’s making you crazy.” Angie felt Liz’s face. “My God, you’re cold! Come. Working will warm you right up. And you need soup.” Angie put her arm around Liz and led her into the kitchen.

  Liz sniffed deeply while removing her coat. Garlic, fresh bread, onions, something sweet and spicy she couldn’t identify. All of those individual aromas combined to work their calming magic on Liz’s brain. She was feeling better by the minute. She spotted mascarpone cheese, egg yolks and lady fingers on the center counter next to a bottle of brandy and a pot of steaming coffee. Liz grinned. “Angie, you’re making tiramisu?” she asked innocently.

  Angie smiled. She knew Liz so well. “No. You are. Someone paid five hundred bucks for yours at auction; we’re gonna raise our price. Five hundred bucks. Huh! Nobody ever paid me that kind of money and I taught you how to make it. You get an apron and get busy. Earn your keep.” Angie turned back to her enormous soup pot. “I made sausage and spinach soup.” Angie waved a spoon at Liz. “You do well enough with the sweet and I may let you have some.”

  Liz laughed while she tied on an apron. “You made it for me and you know it.”

  “Maybe I did, but you still have to earn it.”

  Liz tested the heat of the espresso and put it back on a burner to warm. “Ever thought about putting out a cookbook, Angie? God knows you get enough requests for recipes.”

  Angie shrugged as she examined a bowl of rising bread dough. “When your first book gets published, Darling, we’ll talk about it. Stop worrying so much about making everyone else happy. It’s not your job.”

  As Liz stirred the espresso mix, Angie began questioning.

  “So, Joe tells me you’ve finally fallen in love. I’m glad. Where is he? When do we meet this man?”

  Liz shrugged as she added brandy. “You probably don’t, Angie. I have no idea where he is right now and he’s probably there with someone else, anyway.” She tasted the mix. “Angie, could you ask Vinnie for amaretto?”

  Angie smiled triumphantly, “Ha! I have the great secret at last!” She yelled to the front, “Vinnie! A bottle of amaretto, if you please!” She turned back to Liz. “You’re not changing the subject, you know.” She stirred her soup for a moment.

  “This man of yours..”

  “He’s not mine, Angie.”

  “…is he married?” Angie was looking hard at Liz.

  “No, Angie.” Just surrounded by more beautiful women. Younger women.

  “He’s not gay, is he?”

  “No, Angie, he’s not married, not gay and not interested in anything serious.” Liz shrugged again. “We’ve met a couple of times. He hasn’t shown any interest.”

  “Look at me.” Angie’s tone tolerated no disobedience. Liz looked at her. She could feel Angie’s eyes looking into her soul. “You haven’t slept with him.” It was a statement.

  “No, Angie. I haven’t slept with him.”

  Again, the eyes. “He kissed you?”

  “Yes, Angie.” And I kissed him right back and I’d shave thirty years off my life to do it again.

  “You felt something big, didn’t you?” Liz nodded. “Something like a big, slow pulse coming up from the center of the earth, yes?”

  Again, Liz nodded.

  “You got that feeling in your stomach, too, didn’t you? That shiny gold knot?”

  Liz couldn’t speak. She couldn’t look at Angie, either. She just kept her eyes on her espresso mix and nodded again.

  “And it’s still there.” Another statement. Another question. “Lizabetta, don’t you know what that feeling is, that pulse? That’s two soul mates recognizing each other. I got it when I met Vinnie and so did he. I still have that knot in my stomach forty-five years later.” She was about to add something else, but the swinging doors opened to admit Vinnie with the amaretto. He brought the bottle to Liz and kissed her cheek. “Sorry to take so long, Sweetheart, but a man came in looking for a phone book. You should have been out there, Liz. He looked like your type. Almost handsome enough to be a younger version of me.” They all laughed. “Here’s your amaretto, Sweetheart.”

  Liz added amaretto and tasted again. Perfect. Vinnie watched her dip lady fingers into the mix and line an enormous loaf pan with them.

  “You know, Lizabetta, you add some kind of magic to that.” Liz looked at him curiously. Vinnie continued, “It’s some kind of love potion. Tell her, Angie” and he headed through the doors again.

  “It’s true. You make tiramisu for us, people eat it and fall in love. We’ve seen it happen again and again.” Angie smiled. “Quit working for that asshole...”

  “Angela! Watch your language!” Vinnie yelled from the other side of the door.

  Angie ignored him, “… and work down here full-time. More fun than being a lawyer.”

  “I quit yesterday morning.” Liz felt herself brace for outrage and anger. Something that would have come from her long-dead parents. Instead, Angie paused as she turned her bread dough onto a floured slab.

  “Good for you. Go to someone who knows your worth.”

  “Anthony!” Angie yelled for her younger son. “Tony’ll bring your soup out front for you.” Angie gently nudged Liz out of the way. “I can assemble this. You go eat. We’ll have customers, I promise. Bad weather needs good pasta.”

  Liz started to take off her apron. She was thoughtful as she dried her hands on a towel.

  Liz’s cell phone rang. She didn’t want to answer it. “Damn it! Tony!”

  A handsome young face popped through the door. “Hey, it’s Liz! Great to see you!”

  Liz cut him off, “Tony, be a doll, would you go grab my phone?”

  Liz didn’t have to ask twice. While she was quickly cleaning her hands, she heard Tony say, “Hello?” and then, “He hung up.” Liz was drying her hands. “Who hung up?”

  Tony shrugged. “Don’t know. Some guy. Just said, ‘Sorry, I think I have the wrong number’ and hung up.” He handed the phone to Liz.

  “T
hanks, anyway, Tone.” Liz gathered her belongings and headed for her table at the back of the restaurant, directly under a Tiffany-shaded lamp. Liz sat facing the wall to minimize distractions, not that there would be a flood of customers mid-afternoon during the off-season with an imminent snowstorm, but she didn’t want to be staring out the window. Tony followed behind her with soup, a bottle of Pellegrino and crusty fresh bread.

  “Here, Ma says you have to eat every bite of soup because she’s gonna have you making gnocchi.” He put the steaming bowl in front of Liz. “Hey, Liz, Joey says you got a big ass shiner playing softball. Some guy knocked you ass over tits. That true?”

  “Anthony! Language!” Angie’s voice came muffled but strong through the doors.

  “How does she know? I swear Ma has bionic hearing,” Tony muttered, then yelled, “Sorry, Ma!”

  Liz chuckled. It felt so good to be in the middle of this family.

  “Mama Angie knows all, hears all and sees all, especially if you’re doing something she doesn’t like.” She sipped her Pellegrino. “The shiner is old news, Joey and Rocco worked him over without asking and if Joey wasn’t married, I’d tell him to open a beauty parlor. Christ, he’s a bigger gossip than twelve old ladies in a circle. I’m surprised he can maintain client confidentiality.”

  From the kitchen, “Lizabetta! No blasphemy!”

  “Sorry, Angie.” Liz looked at Tony. “Look, I’d rather not talk about it. Just keep the Pellegrino coming, get Francis Albert on the jukebox and leave me the hell alone for a while or I’ll tell your Mama about the last time you came up to Boston and how much you spent on the strippers.”

  “You got it.” Tony leaned over and kissed Liz on the cheek. With a grin, he pointed to a sprig of mistletoe over her head, then retreated as fast as he could.

  Liz stared at the mistletoe, her mind going back to another kiss under mistletoe. Tony’s had been sweet, but…she shook off the thought. Her reason for being in Hyannis was to give herself time and space to get over her obsession with Ty Hadley and get on with her quiet, undisturbed life. Let the Cape work its healing magic and recharge her batteries. Before settling in to write, Liz uttered a quick prayer.

  “Please, God, either make him a real part of my life or get him out of my head.” With that and Frank Sinatra singing “Night and Day” in the background, Liz focused on her notepad and set to writing. Turning events in her life into short stories or essays had helped her make sense of them and she hoped to hell it would work this time.

  The afternoon wore on. Tony periodically replaced her Pellegrino, making comments or kissing Liz’s cheek and dodging swats. She was so intent on her work that she barely noticed time passing. The jingle of the front door registered only on the fringes of her consciousness.

  Her phone rang. Curses be unto those who interrupt in mid-thought. Liz groped for her phone.

  “Millie, what part of ‘leave me alone’ didn’t you understand? I don’t want to talk right now, okay?” she snapped.

  “No, ‘leave me alone’ is pretty clear, but you never said it to me,” replied Ty’s voice, with some amusement. “Since you haven’t been able to return my calls, I thought I’d stop by your office and take you to lunch so that we could talk, but you weren’t in your office. Where are you, Liz?”

  Think fast, Liz. “Springfield. Dan sent me out here very suddenly. I didn’t even know I was coming until last night.”

  “Gee, that’s too bad. I’m heading down to Hyannis myself. I thought you might like to join me. Excuse me, Liz.” She heard him speak to someone. She couldn’t make out the words, but it sounded like he was giving orders.

  Liz dropped her pen and buried her face in her free hand.

  “Don’t see how I can. Have a good time.” Tony put a glass of red wine in front of her. He had an odd expression and didn’t try kissing her. “Just a minute, Ty.” Hand over mouthpiece. “Tony, what’s going on?”

  “Pop thought you’d like a glass. I gotta go. I’ve got a customer.” Very un-Tony.

  Ty’s voice again. “You were saying?” Liz sighed. “I was saying, I hope you have a good time in Hyannis and I’m very sorry, but I’m in Springfield and I have to stay here. Snowstorm, you know.”

  Ty laughed softly. “You know, I think you’re running from me and I told you we were going to talk. Going all the way to Springfield, though. That’s desperate. Can you recommend any good restaurants in Hyannis? I’m in the mood for Italian.” Liz smiled in spite of her rising panic. She was going to have to hide in her hotel room. She began to rub the back of her neck.

  “Sorry, I don’t know the area that well. Know any good massage therapists in Springfield? My neck and back are incredibly tense.”

  “No, but then, you’re not in Springfield.” Only this time, she didn’t hear Ty on the phone. She heard him. He was speaking inches away from her right ear. She turned her head slowly and looked into his smiling eyes.

  “You can hang up now, Liz.” She obeyed as he pulled up a chair next to hers. Liz noticed he wasn’t dressed for the office, but had on a sport jacket and turtleneck under his expensive overcoat. After shedding the outer layers, Ty sat down and hitched his chair even closer to Liz’s. This undermined her careful self-control to a dangerous degree. So much for the weekend to clear her mind. “What’s this?” Ty reached over to Liz’s notebook. “You were pretty engrossed when I came in.” He pulled the book closer.

  “I told you I wanted to be a writer when I grew up,” she said. “I’m writing.”

  Ty glanced over the pages. “I’d like you to read it to me later. If your creative writing is as good as your legal writing, this ought to be a real pleasure. Here,” he handed Liz the untouched glass of wine. “You look like you could use some of this.”

  Liz sipped some wine, willing her nerves to calm. She had tried to ignore the thrill as Ty’s fingers touched hers when he passed her the glass. She could feel the deep, slow vibration she had felt on the dance floor and the knot in her stomach. And the fear.

  Ty took the glass back from her and sipped some wine himself, his eyes never left her face. “You’re hiding from me,” he stated. She nodded.

  Ty reached over and touched the nape of her neck. His fingers stroked downward, probing the tension Liz was carrying there. He began to knead her shoulder, massaging the tight muscles. His eyes were still on hers, looking for the answer to some question she was afraid to acknowledge.

  Liz could feel herself begin to shake and tried desperately to will herself to stop.

  “What brings you to Hyannis, Ty?” Her voice was unintentionally husky.

  “You.” He said it softly, his voice caressing the word.

  The single word devastated Liz’s self-control. Without really being aware of what she was doing, Liz reached up and covered Ty’s hand with her. She knew he could feel the shaking.

  “Feel that?” He nodded. “It happens every time I’m near you. Kissing me the other night made it worse. I don’t want to eat, I can’t sleep and I can’t get you off my mind.” She gently removed his hand from her shoulder. “I came here to find peace. If you’re just looking to get laid, Ty, then leave me alone. Please.” She released his hand.

  Ty sat back in his chair. For a moment or two, he said nothing. When he did speak, his voice was low and angry.

  “Is that what you think? Listen, Baby. You’re not the only one not sleeping, not eating. If all I wanted was sex, I could have stayed in Boston. I’m here for you, Liz. I want you. I told you that the other night.”

  “You were pretty drunk. I’m surprised you remember.”

  Ty looked as if she’d slapped him. “That was cold, Counselor. I remember saying it because it was true then and it’s still true now.” Liz looked squarely into those beguiling eyes. “You sure it’s not just because I didn’t want to sleep with you? Wounded ego? We know you don’t like to lose. You don’t know what you’re getting into. Or into bed with, for that matter.”

  “I don’t care. I want you. I
want to be with you.”

  “Yeah, right. The man who’s been seen with models and socialites wants the middle-aged, pudgy nobody.”

  “You know I don’t see you like that. Why would you say such a thing?” Ty practically snapped at her. “Christ, won’t you even give me a chance?”

  “Because every time I give someone the chance, it blows up in my face. I don’t want to be hurt again.”

  “I promise you, I will never hurt you. I love you.”

  This was too much. Liz stood up and grabbed his hand. “Come with me.”

  “Why?”

  “Show and tell.” She led Ty into the only place where she knew they’d have privacy: the ladies’ room. Liz locked the door. “Right.” She pulled up the hem of her sweater and pushed down the waistband of her jeans to expose the flesh on her hip. “See these?” She was pointing to faint, jagged white lines running vertically and diagonally on her skin. “Touch them.”

  Ty put his fingers on the lines. Liz tried to ignore the thrill.

  “Those, Mr. Hadley, are faded stretch marks.” Ty looked at Liz’s face sharply. “No, I was never pregnant. But if you gain a lot of weight, regardless of gender, you get stretch marks. They fade when you lose weight. At my peak, I weighed over 220.” She pulled the pants back. “As it is, I can’t wear designer clothes and nobody’s going to put me on the cover of Vogue. However, that’s not the star of the show.”

  Liz unbuttoned her cardigan to expose her bra. “Now, look.” She couldn’t believe she was doing this, but better to get it over with now. Liz pushed the lace covering her left breast aside, showing a puckered, wrinkled scar. Liz looked away. It had been 3 years and she still hated what she saw.

  It disappeared into the rest of the lace and Lycra covering her breast. Ty was staring hard at the spot. His expression was unreadable.

  “I’m sorry, Counselor, but I can’t see a man like you wanting to wake up next a body like this.”