by Tonya Kappes
“Ok,” Tiara sighed, pausing to look at her mother. “I’ve been trying to think of a way to tell you this…and I really don’t want to hurt your feelings.”
Marilyn took a deep breath, trying her best not to panic. Those words weren’t the ones that any mother ever wanted to hear.
Her daughter took a breath and continued.
“I was thinking…you know Jess and Stacey? They had a girl living with them who just moved out, and that leaves one of the bedrooms in their apartment open. I thought it would be good for both of us if I had a place of my own.”
Marilyn pulled her daughter to her and hugged her hard,
“Oh, thank heaven…I always do think of the worst things when you start a conversation that way,” she exclaimed, wilting with relief.
“So it’s ok with you? If I move in with them?” Tiara prompted.
“Of course it’s okay with me, you’re an adult. I’m just glad that you’ll even be on the same island. But, I can’t promise that I won’t drop by unannounced and force Jess and Stacey into binge-watching zombie movies with us,” Marilyn teased.
Tiara chuckled and they walked the rest of the way to the beach in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Marilyn threw her arm around her daughter’s shoulders, knowing that her stubbornly independent offspring would only allow it until the guilt of leaving home wore off.
“So my daughter moved in and now is moving out again,” Marilyn thought, digging her toes into the warmth of the sugary-white sand.
There was precious little time for reflection about life and the passage of time, however - they had reached their destination. It was almost nine and the sun was relentless. Everyone attending the yoga class wore sunglasses and sunscreen. Most had worn swimsuits, some under their clothes like Marilyn, and some were confident enough to do a full hour of yoga in nothing but a bikini.
Plopping her bag down in the sand, Marilyn noted with wry amusement that her daughter had suddenly become one of those supremely confident bikini people. Tiara was the exact physical opposite of her mother in every way. Marilyn was 5’4,” Tiara was 5’9”. Marilyn was a brown-eyed brunette, Tiara was a blue-eyed blonde. Of course, the physical differences between the two could only be attributed to Daniel, the insensitive ex-husband and lackadaisical father. He was tall, blue eyed, and blond, with an athletic build that had once upon a time made Marilyn swoon. Oddly, fifteen years ago, Daniel had looked a lot like their current yoga instructor…who was now headed in their direction.
“Good morning ladies,” he grinned, showing teeth that seemed even whiter due to the contrast of his deeply tanned skin.
Marilyn got the impression that he wasn’t really talking to her so she gave him a perfunctory smile, then looked at her daughter. Tiara grinned broadly, showing her dimples and tilting her head in a way that revealed to her mother exactly why the teacher had approached them specifically.
“Hey, Drew,” the young woman greeted him shyly.
Marilyn noticed for the first time that morning that her daughter was wearing make-up. In fact, the color of her lips looked remarkably similar to that of her mother’s favorite Raspberry Dream lipstick. Glancing down, Marilyn picked up the tee-shirt Tiara had worn to the beach and discarded upon arrival.
“Here you go, honey,” she said, handing the gray cotton tee to her daughter.
Tiara frowned at her mother, slung the tee shirt over her shoulder, then turned back to the teacher.
Marilyn had been coming to this class on and off for the past two years and she couldn’t remember ever having heard the instructor’s name before.
“I’ve been working on the balance technique that you showed me, all week, and I think I’ve finally got it,” Tiara confided to the instructor, placing her hands in the sand and her knees on top of her elbows.
Marilyn watched, mildly astonished, as her sweet little girl lifted her barely-clad bottom up into the air, with Drew looking on. She didn’t quite know how to react to the uncomfortable situation, and seriously considered letting herself ‘stumble’ into her daughter, knocking her over. Perhaps she should ‘accidentally’ kick sand at the instructor’s feet, to draw his attention away, or yell ‘shark’, while gazing toward the beach. Thankfully Tiara’s pose collapsed all on its own, solving the problem.
“This is what happens when I leave my daughter alone in yoga one time. One single time,” she thought to herself, pursing her lips and shaking her head.
Last week Marilyn had decided to spend the morning curled up in a hammock with a slice of key lime pie, coffee, and the newspaper. This was her penance for the shameless indulgence.
Drew obviously knew how to work his audience. He got the class rolling by circulating among the fifteen women who actively sought his attention and guidance. Marilyn became very aware of the fact that there were no men in this particular class and a rather large group of dedicated women. She frowned, wondering how old he was and what sort of training that he might have had. Her thoughts were interrupted by his voice.
“Focus your breathing and let yourself become one with the sound of the ocean,” he directed gently, beginning their journey to peace.
Suddenly every syllable that the attractive instructor uttered was suspect and subject to scrutiny. Become one? Just what exactly did he know about becoming one? And why mention it in a yoga class? Marilyn was never going to benefit from the relaxation of the class if she couldn’t push the overprotective thoughts from her mind.
Moving fluidly through her first series of poses, she covertly studied Drew, while upside down, from beneath her raised leg. Instead of attaining the perfect union of body and spirit this morning, she spent the rest of the class glancing from Tiara to Drew and back again. She tried to decipher their body language and facial expressions. Whenever he came around to move Tiara physically deeper into a pose Marilyn watched like a hawk, as if she were trying to figure out how to do the pose properly herself.
By the end of the class, she was exhausted, though her poses had been lackluster at best. Her shoulders were tense, her mind was alight with jangling thoughts, and even her eyeballs somehow felt stiff. As they all said, ‘Namaste,’ Marilyn was already wondering how quickly she could spirit Tiara home away from the influence of this smooth-talking charmer.
Trying to play it cool, she playfully suggested, “Race you home?”
Tiara stared at her mother as though she’d just lost her mind.
“You go ahead, I’m going for a swim to cool down,” she nodded at the water as Marilyn noticed Drew drawing closer.
“I’ll jump in too! What a great idea, honey. Come on, let’s go in.” Marilyn’s forced enthusiasm was way over the top.
“You go in, I’ll be right there…” Tiara drilled her with a look, as if her mother would pick up on the significance of the suggestion and actually respond appropriately.
“Hey,” Drew appeared with his aging beach-boy smile.
“Class was great,” Tiara said in a saccharine manner that her mother had never witnessed from her, before today.
“Thanks—”
“Yeah, class was great!” Marilyn interjected, a smile pasted on her face.
“Uh…thanks…” the instructor gave her a rather puzzled look, then turned his attention back to Tiara. “So…” Drew pulled a hand back through his hair in a move that was too obviously contrived to make him look like a movie star. “I just heard that a new species of fish was found in the reef… it’s probably impossible to find but I thought, since you dive…maybe…”
“That sounds amazing!” Marilyn blurted, drawing a warning look from her daughter.
“Yeah,” he gave her a polite smile and again directed his attention to her barely-clad daughter. “There are at least a hundred species of fish right around here, but this one was just discovered. I guess they, the scientists, or marine biologists, or whoever, have to submit their findings before it’s official but…I thought you might want to take a look. I have a boat so we could pick a couple d
ifferent dive spots,” he offered.
Tiara was temporarily struck speechless by his invitation, but clearly excited at the prospect. In absence of a response from the star-struck girl, and feeling Marilyn’s hawk-like gaze, Drew turned to her.
“You’re welcome to come too…if you’d like…”
The manner in which he offered, let Marilyn know that he was just being polite, and was most likely hoping against hope that she’d decline.
“Wow, I would love to…that is if you really don’t mind?” she beamed, satisfied with the idea of chaperoning.
“Sure…come along,” Drew looked from Tiara back to her mother. “The more the merrier…”
Tiara’s eyes shot daggers at her mother, and Marilyn knew that their walk home would be rather…chilly.
Chapter 4
Suddenly, business-savvy, mathematically-gifted Tiara was a teenager again.
“Mother how could you do that to me?” the red-faced young woman demanded, hands on hips.
“Oh dear, I’m sorry, honey, it just popped out of my mouth before I realized it,” Marilyn explained, only somewhat contrite.
She really hadn’t meant to invite herself along on her daughter’s date, but on the other hand, she certainly felt that she had valid concerns about her young daughter keeping company with a yoga teacher who was several years her senior.
“Well, we can either tell him that I have a conflict in my schedule, or we could just make the best of it,” she shrugged, not quite understanding why her typically level-headed daughter was throwing such a fit.
“I don’t believe this.”
Tiara power-walked down the boardwalk at such a fast pace that it was difficult for her mother to keep up.
“Ok, now, let’s just calm down,” Marilyn reasoned. “There’s really no need for such an extreme reaction.”
Tiara snorted derisively, shot her mother a scathing look, turned, and began walking even faster. Rather than attempting to follow her bristling offspring, Marilyn decided to let Tiara walk off her anger and approach the subject again when she’d cooled down a bit. Sighing and shaking her head, she headed for home, sad that the beauty of the day had dimmed somehow.
**
Marilyn was surprised to find a woman waiting for her at the shop a full two hours before opening. While she completely understood the intense yearning for key lime pie, she’d never had a customer camp out in front of the store.
“Good morning! Can I help you?” she asked pleasantly, keys in hand.
“Are you Marilyn?” the petite redhead asked with a smile.
Marilyn took a quick mental inventory of people she knew and places in which she might have been introduced to this woman, but couldn’t quite place her.
“I am. Have we met?”
“No,” the woman shook her head. “I believe I’ve spoken with your daughter.”
“Oh?” Now Marilyn was really confused. She hadn’t had nearly enough coffee yet.
“I’m her about the position you have open…” she explained, catching on that the befuddled owner obviously had no idea who she was or why she was there. “I’m Susan Dwyer,” she reached out her hand.
Susan seemed nice enough. She was around Marilyn’s age, perhaps a bit older, and her shock of red hair was the only thing remarkable about her. The plump woman’s hand gave away the fact that she was a baker. Something changed in your skin’s chemistry when you washed your hands thirty times a day, punched dough, mixed, whipped, stirred, and endured the occasional burn. Marilyn could feel years of baking in this hand.
“So you’re a baker?” she guessed, feeling an instant kinship with the woman that she’d just met.
“Yes,” Susan sounded relieved. “I responded to your daughter’s ad yesterday. She seems incredibly efficient.”
“Yes, she certainly is,” Marilyn beamed with pride. “Come on in. It’s nice to meet you.”
Unlocking the front door, she opened up the outdoor patio, pulled the tables and chairs into their rightful places, then went to the back to turn on the ovens, returning to the front of the shop after a quick stop in her tiny office, clipboard in hand.
“Well, why don’t you tell me a little bit about yourself?” she encouraged, sitting across from Susan at a brightly colored bistro table for two.
“I grew up rural Idaho,” Susan began, seeming a bit shy. “My daddy owned a farm and my mama was very much a farmer’s wife. I was supposed to find a local man to marry but it didn’t quite work out that way. There was this one boy...” her voice trailed off as nostalgia kicked in.
“Isn’t there always?” Marilyn nodded sagely, putting down her clipboard and heading for the kitchen, beckoning Susan to follow. Donning an apron, she went to the sink to wash her hands.
“Would you mind if I help?” Susan asked, with an approving glance at the spotless commercial kitchen. “I think better when I’m baking.”
Marilyn nodded with complete understanding. It had been only a few minutes since she’d met this woman and she was already beginning to like her. Susan, looking relieved, put her purse down, rolled up her sleeves, grabbed one of Marilyn’s extra aprons and washed up. Just moment before, she had seemed shy and a tiny bit awkward, and now the industrious woman was filled with energy and vitality. She clearly felt very much at home in the kitchen.
“Have you made Key Lime Pie before?” Marilyn asked, feeling as though she already knew the answer.
“Blindfolded and with my hands tied behind my back, honey,!” Susan chuckled.
After securing their hair in nets and donning plastic gloves, the two women began separating ingredients. Marilyn portioned out graham cracker crumbs, and Susan instinctively gauged that the amount was sufficient for four crusts, setting out exactly the right amounts of butter and sugar, accordingly.
“I started baking when I was a girl, which is a perfectly healthy past time in farm country,” she winked, waiting for the whirring of the industrial mixer to subside before continuing. “I won prizes at the State Fair for my cakes and pies, then started submitting to more contests and won those too. I’m sure if my parents ever imagined I would use my baking to run away from them, they would have shut down those plans right away.” She scooped out a chunk of the sweet, sticky mixture and pressed it evenly into a pie pan. “I never actually went to school for it, just taught myself by trial and error.”
“You certainly seem to have a gift for it,” Marilyn remarked, surprised at how they seemed to automatically work well together. Susan knew what needed to be done without having to be told.
“It was a lucky thing too, my family definitely couldn’t afford culinary school. It just wasn’t an option,” she sighed, remembering.
Despite her humble beginnings, Susan seemed to have her life together now. She wore a perfectly pressed outfit - capri pants, a simple button-down summer-weight blouse - nice shoes, and a nice purse. Her haircut and color were definitely not cheap, and her accessories were tasteful.
“So, whatever happened to the boy?” Marilyn asked.
“We got married,” she surprised her by saying, trimming the edge from a crust with a knife.
A variety of emotions flitted briefly over her ordinary features. It appeared to Marilyn that perhaps she was remembering sweet times followed by a sad ending. Susan took a deep breath, released it with a soft sigh, and didn’t say anything until she’d finished pushing the next crust into the pan.
“He was going in for his second heart surgery…and...” she broke off, catching her lower lip between her teeth, her eyes filling.
Marilyn reached over and squeezed the sturdy, work-worn hand that rested on the counter, not knowing what to say. Saying she was sorry seemed ridiculous, so feeling incredibly inadequate, she simply gazed with compassion at the struggling woman for a moment.
“Anyway,” Susan took a deep breath, withdrawing her hand and scooping up another glob of dough. “I’m on my own now, and I felt like I had to get away from the memories,” she admitted, brave
ly trying to smile. “I’ve always loved sun and sand and the ocean…everything I wanted to see when I left the potato fields of Idaho is here, so here I am.”
“Good for you,” Marilyn approved. “Sometimes change can be the best thing, and there’s just something special about this place, it’s a balm for the soul.”
She knew it to be true, from personal experience, having fled to the island herself after a disastrous marriage. Key West was safely insulated from the hustle and bustle of non-island life. If there was one place to go when you thought you might never have another chance at happiness, this was it. She liked to call it the “Resort of Last Resort.”
“Ok, let’s put these in and we’ll start the filling,” Marilyn smiled.
Chapter 5
