by Anita Hughes
“That’s why we got divorced. So we wouldn’t have conversations.” She slipped on her sunglasses. “It was nice seeing you. Don’t sit in the sun too long. We’re both getting older, and you don’t want to get wrinkles.”
* * *
Lily crossed the piazzetta and her heel wedged between the cobblestones. She reached down and tried to dislodge it. The last thing she needed was Oliver assuming she wanted him to run after her.
She should never have agreed to join him for coffee. They might look like any other young couple, with their sunglasses and light tans, but they couldn’t stop bickering. They were like children, furiously pushing buttons on a new toy.
She remembered telling Oliver that she had changed. She was different. These days she got her hair cut at expensive salons instead of trimming it herself, and she had replaced the cotton dresses in her closet with Ella Moss suits. And of course, she was a single mother now. She couldn’t just think about her own happiness; she had to consider Louisa.
A man with dark hair and olive-colored skin waved, and she gasped. She’d almost forgotten about Ricky! She adjusted her sunglasses and smoothed her skirt. Thinking about her ex-husband was no way to start a relationship with a handsome young businessman.
“Lily, there you are.” Ricky approached her. “It’s lovely to see you.”
“I’m so glad you suggested lunch. I’ve been exploring Porto Cervo for hours. I’ve never seen so many gorgeous shops. I’m tempted to buy all the clothes in the boutique windows.”
“You don’t have to.” Ricky handed her a box wrapped in tissue paper. “This is for you.”
“You can’t give me another present,” Lily protested. “We just met.”
“Remember, in Sardinia men give gifts, and women accept them.” He pointed to the box. “Open it and see if you like it.”
Lily untied the ribbon and took out a straw hat with a red bow. “It’s gorgeous, but I can’t accept it.”
“Of course you can.” He took her arm. “It’s my mother’s birthday next week, and she’s addicted to American television. In return, you can update me on Scandal or Modern Family.”
* * *
They entered a stucco building with marble floors and a beamed ceiling. There were floor-to-ceiling wine racks, a stone fireplace, and Moroccan chandeliers. Tables were set with white china and high-back chairs were covered with orange upholstery.
“It’s gorgeous,” Lily breathed. Windows opened onto the harbor, and sleek yachts gleamed in the noon sun. Men and women lingered on the balcony over bowls of fish stew, and the air smelled of floral arrangements and sea salt and butter.
“Renato Pedrinelli is the oldest restaurant in Porto Cervo and is owned by two brothers.” Ricky sat opposite her. “They treat all their diners like family. They have been known to sneak George Clooney in the back door and seat him facing the kitchen.” He stopped and smiled. “George enjoys the seafood lasagna but isn’t fond of tourists begging for autographs.”
“I’ve never been anywhere like the Emerald Coast. You imagine everyone arrived on a yacht or flew in by private jet, but then you meet an old man who eats bread and cheese for every meal and has never owned a television,” Lily mused.
“In the 1960s, Prince Aga Khan thought the northern coast of Sardinia was the perfect vacation spot.” Ricky tore apart a piece of bread. “He bought all the land and invited his friends to stay at his villa. Princess Grace loved to visit, and King Juan Carlos of Spain was a regular, and his parties were attended by Catherine Deneuve and Cary Grant. He built the marina so his guests could park their yachts and opened boutiques where they could shop, and it became the most exclusive resort in Europe.”
Lily studied Ricky’s dark hair and tan cheeks and felt the urge to run to the hotel and hide. She didn’t have a wardrobe filled with Versace and she’d never been on a yacht in her life. She should call Louisa to remind her to feed Brussels, her guinea pig, or email the office to make sure the caterer was set for the opening.
But then she ate a bite of mussels in wine sauce, and her shoulders relaxed. She was a newly divorced woman; she couldn’t only think about Louisa and Lily Bristol; she had to meet new people. And why shouldn’t she nibble seafood with a charming Sardinian?
“You look serious,” Ricky said. “I hope you’re enjoying the restaurant.”
The waiter replaced their plates with platters of tuna steak and stuffed artichokes, and Lily smiled. “It’s the most delicious lunch I’ve ever had.”
* * *
“Tell me why a beautiful American owns her own business,” Ricky said when the waiter brought them ricotta cake and bowls of berries. There was a pitcher of coffee and pots of honey on the table. “I thought American women spend their days at the gym and attending book clubs, like on my mother’s television programs.”
“Your mother must watch too many episodes of Desperate Housewives.” Lily laughed. “I love being a mother but I couldn’t imagine not working. It’s wonderful having something of my own.”
“Did your husband feel the same?” Ricky asked.
“Oliver was quite supportive of my career.” Lily nodded. “He took care of Louisa when I flew to San Francisco or Milan. Though he often forgot to put out her school clothes at night and he was hopeless at school lunches.” She smiled. “But no child is going to suffer from wearing the same dress or eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.”
“Then why did you get a divorce?” Ricky asked.
“We stopped making each other happy,” she explained. “If you can’t be happy, what’s the point?”
“In Sardinia, you only get divorced for two reasons,” he answered. “The husband is cheating, and the wife threatens to cut his heart out while he sleeps, or the wife has an affair, and the husband buys a pistol to shoot her lover.”
“Marriage in Sardinia sounds dangerous.” She laughed. “Is that why you haven’t gotten married?”
“I haven’t had the opportunity.” He stirred honey into his coffee.
“Are you going to become one of those confirmed bachelors who doesn’t know what to do with his money?” she continued. “You see them all the time in Manhattan. Their vintage sports cars get older, and the models on their arms get younger, and eventually they’re dating women the age of their godchildren.”
“I would love to be married,” Ricky replied. “My parents have been married for thirty-five years.”
“You’re good-looking and successful,” Lily mused. “I’m sure you’ve had invitations.”
“My store might be filled with designer clothes, but I couldn’t marry someone who only cares about the diamonds in her ears and price per ounce of her perfume. I want to meet a woman who can spend the day sitting under a juniper tree and discussing art and politics.”
“It’s important to have things in common,” Lily agreed.
“I’m not talking about knowing the names of the latest books, I’m talking about being in love. You can’t wait to be together and, after you part, you replay the evening like a movie you can’t get enough of.” He looked at Lily and his eyes were serious. “When I find that, I will be the luckiest man on the Emerald Coast.”
* * *
Lily entered her hotel suite and tossed her purse on the end table. It had been a wonderful afternoon. She and Ricky had browsed in the shops in the marina and Ricky insisted on buying her a bunch of daisies at a flower stall. The air was fragrant and the ocean glittered like a diamond tennis bracelet, and Lily had never seen anything more stunning.
There was a knock at the door, and Lily froze. She almost forgot about Oliver and Angela. But there was no reason for Oliver to be here. They had both decided it was better if they ignored each other for the rest of the vacation.
Lily opened the door, and her shoulders relaxed.
“Oh, Enzo, it’s you.” She ushered him inside. “What a pleasant surprise.”
“You texted me and asked me to come up,” Enzo said, taking the phone out of his pocket.
“I did, didn’t I?” Lily laughed. “I wasn’t sure if you’d check it. You did say I could text if I needed anything. I had the most wonderful time. I wanted to send you pictures of our lunch. The ricotta cake with berries looked like one of the photos you see on Instagram that are so gorgeous they must be photoshopped. And Ricky was handsome and charming. You should take up a second job as a matchmaker. You’d be a great success.” She paused. “Not that it’s going to become anything serious. Tomorrow we’re going to visit the antique stores in San Pantaleo. We’ll pack a picnic and drive along the whole coastline.”
“Ricky is a lucky man.” Enzo nodded. “He gets to show a beautiful young American the Emerald Coast.”
“You say the nicest things, you always make me feel good.” She paused. “Can I ask you a question? Have you ever lied to your wife? Not about something silly like that you fed Maria and Gia turkey sandwiches and fruit salad for lunch when you really gave them frozen yogurt. Oliver used to do that all the time. He didn’t have to; frozen yogurt is delicious on a hot day and it’s high in calcium.” Her eyes were large. “I mean, lied about something important.”
“That’s not the kind of question guests usually ask,” Enzo responded.
“Please, Enzo,” Lily urged. “It’s very important. And I know we’re friends. You wouldn’t have read my texts if we weren’t.”
“There was the time I told Carmella that my cousin’s bachelor party was at my uncle’s restaurant, when really the groom and all his men were going to a nightclub,” he conceded. “It wasn’t up to me. My cousin insisted we keep it secret.”
“That’s terrible,” Lily gasped. “What happened?”
“I decided not to go.” He shrugged. “I stayed home, and we ate spaghetti marinara and spumoni.”
“What if your wife was working for a dress designer in Paris or Milan and was out of town on the night of the bachelor party?” Lily asked thoughtfully. “She couldn’t be sure you stayed home if you lied to her to begin with.”
“She would have been angry that I didn’t tell her the truth,” he plumped the cushions on the sofa. “But she would have trusted me to do the right thing.”
Lily stood up and walked to the window. Yachts lined the port like some impossibly beautiful jeweled bracelet, and she heard laughter and music.
“You make marriage sound easy, Enzo.” She turned around. “But sometimes it doesn’t work out. What if you both mess it up and get divorced? Do you get another chance at love, or will you be alone forever?”
“Everyone finds love on the Emerald Coast.” Enzo refilled the bowl of Brazil nuts. “Why would it be different for a young American divorcée?”
“You’re right, of course,” Lily said and sighed. “Maybe you can come back tomorrow morning and help me pick out an outfit to wear for the picnic. Whenever I’m with you, I think anything is possible.”
Enzo left, and Lily stood at the window. It would be lovely to take a swim in the pool or walk along Cala di Volpe beach, with its limestone cliffs and white sand. But she didn’t want to bump into Oliver and Angela sipping martinis at the bar or strolling along the shore.
She entered the marble bathroom and unzipped her dress. A silver dish held scented soaps, and fresh towels were folded next to the pedestal bathtub. She thought about what Enzo had said and turned on the faucet. She remembered when she and Oliver were so young and in love. Every day was perfect, and nothing could tear them apart.
* * *
Lily glanced in the mirror of her dressing room and fiddled with her ruby earrings. She usually adored her parents’ Christmas party. The house was filled with the scent of nutmeg and decorated with poinsettias and twinkling lights. And the food! Platters of duck pâté and mini eggs Benedict. There was chocolate nougat, and custards in silver bowls.
But she had been looking forward to having Oliver by her side, and now he had to work at the restaurant. She rubbed her lips and wondered if he could have gotten the night off. It was the busiest season, and Giuseppe’s cousin had been so kind, letting Oliver stay at his home until he could afford his own apartment.
She snapped a diamond bracelet around her wrist and had a sinking feeling. Was it possible her mother planned the Christmas Open House during the week she knew Oliver couldn’t come? That was ridiculous; how could her parents have anything against Oliver? In the three months they had been dating, they hadn’t shared more than a few Sunday dinners together, and turkey and stuffing at Thanksgiving.
It was unfortunate that Lily’s parents happened to visit the restaurant with Lily just after their first Sunday dinner with Lily and Oliver. It must have been awkward for the waiter to shake her mother’s hand and compliment her choice of banana soufflé from the menu. And he might have waited until he and Lily were alone to say she looked stunning in her low-cut evening dress instead of commenting on it in front of the other diners at the restaurant.
Oliver admitted it was his fault. He should have just asked whether everyone at the table preferred the grilled halibut or salmon and not said anything personal. But it wasn’t the nineteenth century, and he wasn’t an indentured servant. Waiting tables made sense while he built his reputation as a restaurant critic.
Lily descended the circular staircase and gazed at women in glittering evening gowns and men wearing white dinner jackets. She would circulate around the room and say hello to her parents’ friends. Then she would slip out the side door and join Oliver at the restaurant.
“Lily. You’re more beautiful than I remember!” a male voice said. “Did you let your hair grow? It suits you.”
“Roger!” Lily exclaimed. “I didn’t know you were in town. Your parents must be thrilled to have you home for Christmas. I’ve envied you the last year. Ice-skating in Rockefeller Center and watching the ball drop at Times Square. Everyone wants to be in New York during the holidays.”
“You could have visited.” Roger sipped his martini. “The door was always open.”
“I doubt your fiancée would approve of your old girlfriend showing up for eggnog.” She laughed. “How is Rachel? It must be exciting to be engaged to a Broadway actress.”
“We broke up.” He shrugged. “I worked twelve-hour days at the law firm, and she spent all night at the theater. The only thing we had in common was matching pajamas.”
“I’m sorry,” Lily replied. “I’m sure you’ll find someone. Manhattan is crawling with women looking for a handsome young attorney.”
“Didn’t your mother tell you? I moved back to San Francisco,” he said. “I’m an associate at a firm and I bought a condo on Nob Hill.”
“She didn’t mention it.” Lily moved away. “It was lovely to see you, I’m sure we’ll run into each other.”
“Lily, wait.” He touched her arm. “Can we talk?”
“We are talking,” she answered.
“I mean really talk.” He led her into the library. He closed the door and perched on an ottoman.
“We probably shouldn’t sneak off to the library.” She laughed. “People will get the wrong impression.”
“But it’s the right impression.” He fiddled with his tie.
“What are you talking about?”
“Our breakup was rocky, and I felt terrible that I sent you a letter. But the distance was killing me. I had to find another girl.”
“That was two years ago.” Lily flushed. “I haven’t thought about it in months.”
“Your mother invited me to lunch. She said you’re still in love with me, and now the timing is perfect,” he began. “We should take it slowly, I don’t want to rush anything. But I miss sailing with you on the bay. No girl looked better in capris and boat shoes.”
“You must have heard her wrong.” Lily’s cheeks turned pink. “I met Oliver in Naples, and we’re quite serious.”
“Look, maybe I shouldn’t have told you what she said. It’s awkward to reveal a broken heart,” he said, feeling bad. “Why don’t we start over? If you’re free on Friday, we ca
n have dinner at Boulevard.”
“I’m not free any day.” She walked to the door. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to go.”
“Where are you going?” he asked.
Lily turned the handle, and her hands trembled. “To see my mother.”
* * *
“Darling.” Lily’s mother stood next to the French doors in the living room. She wore a silver gown and her ash-blond hair touched her shoulders. “That dress suits you. You look lovely in red.”
“Can I see you in private?” Lily asked.
“All the guests have arrived.” Alice scanned the room. “It isn’t a good time.”
“It’s the perfect time.” Lily took her mother’s arm. “Everyone is happy drinking eggnog and eating lobster rolls. No one will miss you.”
“What is it?” Alice asked when they entered the kitchen. Granite counters were littered with silver trays, and a ceramic vase held red and white roses.
“It’s Roger,” Lily said. “You didn’t mention he was coming.”
“Isn’t it a lovely surprise? You’ve been so busy at Gump’s, I didn’t have time to tell you.” She paused. “I forgot how handsome Roger is. He looks marvelous in his white dinner jacket.”
“You told him I was in love with him,” Lily said furiously.
“You are still in love with him.” Alice arranged pralines on a plate. “When I told you he was engaged, you stayed in bed for days.”
“I had a fever.” Lily fumed. “It had nothing to do with Roger.”
“A mother can tell the difference between the flu and a broken heart,” she said. “You went to Europe to get over him.”
“That’s where I met Oliver!” Lily exclaimed. “We’re madly in love.”
“You can’t be in love with Oliver,” Alice said. “He is good-looking and fairly charming, but he’s a waiter. He doesn’t even have his own apartment.”
“Oliver’s housing situation doesn’t affect my feelings,” Lily retorted. “And Oliver is very frugal, he saves his money.”
“Oliver was a wonderful distraction, but Roger is back, and the timing is perfect,” Alice began. “If you start dating now, you’ll get engaged next fall and have a summer wedding. In two years, he’ll be a junior partner, and you’ll open your own store. You’ll be San Francisco’s it couple.”
