The Enchanted Garden Cafe

by Abigail Drake

  A vein pulsated in Harrison’s neck. Not a pretty sight. “You have no proof of that either.”

  “Actually, we do,” said Officer Belfiore with a smile. “We have bloody fingerprints on the stolen letter. Now I’m sure Mr. Lipmann’s fingerprints are all over that envelope, but I’m a pretty good guesser, and I’d bet money on the fact the bloody ones are yours. And thanks to Ms. Campbell, we also have a pair of expensive, valuable, blood-splattered shoes to prove both of you were at the scene.”

  Harrison was silent as they helped him into the police car. Scott’s gaze met mine. “Can I talk to you for a moment, Fiona?”

  Matthew’s grip tightened on my hand. “Whatever you have to say to her, you can say to both of us.”

  Scott’s eyes narrowed. “It’s a personal matter.”

  “I don’t care.” Matthew’s entire body was tense. If they had been rams, they would have locked horns by now. Perhaps primitive of me, but Matthew’s little show of protectiveness turned me on. I didn’t even think of pulling away.

  “Just talk, Scott,” I said.

  “I was drunk that night, Fi. I thought I went home and passed out.”

  “Did you know about the letter?”

  He pursed his lips. “I knew he had it. I didn’t know how he got it. I didn’t ask.”

  “That makes you guilty too.”

  “Stop talking, Lipmann,” shouted Harrison from the back seat. “Shut up. Now.”

  Scott’s blue eyes scanned my face. “You said he attacked you. Is that true?”

  “Yes. I fought him off with a scrub brush, ironically enough.”

  He blew out a sigh. “I never imagined it would end up like this. It sort of snowballed. I didn’t date you because of a parking garage. No matter what you might think, I loved you.”

  “Only words, Scott. They don’t mean a thing.”

  Officer Miller led him to the car, and Scott’s eyes filled with panic. “None of this is my fault. It isn’t fair.”

  “It’s called karma,” I said with a wave. “And it keeps the universe in balance, especially for people like you. Have fun in jail, Scott.”

  We turned and walked away as Scott was loaded into the police car next to Harrison. I felt like I’d dodged a bullet. If karma hadn’t intervened and sent Matthew to me, I might have ended up the miserable wife of an alcoholic meatpacker. I may have even started eating processed cheese. I shivered just thinking about it.

  Matthew watched him go with a wary face. “I don’t think that is the last we’ll hear from him.”

  I went up on my tiptoes to kiss him. “Who cares? As long as I have you, nothing else matters.”

  Matthew put his hands on my cheeks, his thumbs caressing my skin. “Do you mean that?”

  “Yes, even if you do keep surprising me. Learning you’re an architect is one thing. Learning you’re the grandson of Mr. McAlister is quite another. It explains all of the photos of you online wearing a tux with a supermodel on your arm.”

  I kind of snarled the last few words, and Matthew chuckled. “The only girl I want on my arm from now on is you.” He kissed me softly.

  “There you go again. Trying to kiss me into submission.”

  He grinned. “I’ll use whatever tools available to me. From the moment I saw you standing in your shop all sweaty and annoyed, you were all I wanted.”

  “Really?” I was breathless and out of focus from his kisses, and Matthew apparently could tell.

  He gave me a look of pure male satisfaction. “You held a stone phallus in each hand; I knew you were the girl for me.”

  I wrinkled my nose at him. “You had to bring those up, didn’t you?”

  “Those were some lucky fertility charms.” He gave me a saucy wink.

  “Oh, please. Stop.”

  He caressed my cheek, staring deep into my eyes. “You loved me without knowing who I was, and I found it refreshing.”

  “Refreshing? I was mean to you. Was that refreshing as well?”

  He bit his lip and gave me a sexy smile. “You were challenging but so worth it.”

  He took my hand and led me back to the shop. People already packed the place, and someone had decided to block off part of the street so we could have an even bigger party. I changed into a comfortable dress and flats, and we danced and sang and drank and laughed until the wee hours of the morning.

  Later, Matthew and I sat alone by the fountain. “I don’t know what I’ll do when you leave.”

  He raised a dark eyebrow at me. “What are you talking about?”

  My lips quivered. “You said last night would be your final acoustic night . . .”

  “I said I won’t be hosting it anymore. Frankie called me. He’s coming back from India in a few days. He wanted it to be a surprise.”

  “Oh.” I frowned at him. “You aren’t going back to Philly?”

  His lips twitched. “Do you want me to go back to Philly?”

  I shook my head, unable to speak, unable to breathe properly. I wrapped my arms around him and held him close.

  He sighed. “How could you think I would ever leave you voluntarily?”

  “We never made any promises. I was trying to appreciate each moment. For the first time in my whole life, I didn’t even attempt to plan for the future.”

  “I want it all, Fiona, present and future. I would take the past, if I could. I am yours. That’s my promise. And I intend to keep it. For always.”

  Chapter Thirty

  Good things come to those who bake.

  ~Aunt Francesca~

  The next morning was Monday, and Mondays were always my favorite, but this Monday started exceptionally well. I woke up to Matthew’s naked warmth in my bed, and we made love softly and sweetly in the morning light. Afterward Matthew dozed as I showered, and then he got up to shower too. He tried to pull me into the shower with him, but I giggled and slipped away. As I went downstairs to get the paper, grab some coffee, and help Mom, there was a bubble of pure joy and happiness in my chest. I no longer had to concentrate to find my heart center. It practically glowed from the inside out.

  Matthew wasn’t leaving. He planned to stay here and work on his idea of turning the South Side into a historical district. Mr. McAlister was on the mend and promised to come out to visit as soon as he felt a bit better. Mom would not lose her shop, and my friends were not going to lose their businesses. Moses was finally well enough to return to his apartment, where he’d be surrounded by his beloved books and have his saxophone by his side. Janet told him last night the lawyers from Anderson had already approached her about a settlement. It looked like Moses’s hospital bills would be covered, and Janet felt fairly certain he’d never have to worry about money again. I felt like I was floating.

  Mom grinned. “Good morning, dearest. It suits you, you know.”

  I wore an old T-shirt and a pair of khaki shorts. “What does?” I asked, looking at my clothing in confusion.

  She kissed my forehead. “Being in love.”

  Matthew padded down the steps, and I handed him a cup of coffee. Mom kissed his cheek. “Good morning sweet, darling, magical boy.”

  She went into the garden, and we both stared after her. “That’s a little different from the last time we had a sleepover,” said Matthew.

  I eyed him over the rim of my cup. “She didn’t find my panties next to a used condom in the garden this morning.”

  I almost fell off my chair at the expression on Matthew’s face. He was horrified. “You never told me.”

  “I knew you’d be embarrassed.”

  We heard my mom coming back, and Matthew looked a bit panicked. “I’ll get the paper.”

  I took out ingredients for cookies as my mom started making breakfast, humming a little song as she worked. Matthew strolled back in, his brow wrinkled in concentration and his eyes on the paper.

  “What’s so interesting?” I asked.

  Matthew turned the newspaper to show me the cover story. “Secret River Found Beneath the Cit
y of Pittsburgh.”

  “What does it say?” asked Mom.

  My eyes scanned the page. “They were digging to put in a new subway line, and discovered a hidden river running deep underground. Some people insist it was one mentioned in an ancient Mayan prophecy. A geologist interviewed by the reporter said the area closest to the surface is directly under the South Side, and several older properties have plumbing systems connected directly to this river.”

  We all stood still for a moment before racing out into the garden to look at our fountain. It gurgled happily in the dappled morning sunlight falling through the trees, not looking very mystical or mysterious at all.

  “I knew it was magic. Every time I made a wish, it came true,” said Mom, her lovely blue eyes growing sad. “Well, almost every time.”

  The bell hanging on the front door rang, and we looked up in surprise. “Are you expecting anyone?” I asked.

  She shook her head. We heard a big booming voice call out a greeting. “Hello, hello. Where are my girls?”

  Mom grinned. “Frankie? Is that you? We’re out in the garden.”

  Frankie stuck his head out the back door. His dark curly hair hung to his shoulders in a mix of black and gray, and he had on a long, embroidered tunic he must have purchased in India. His glasses were round and tortoiseshell, and he had an earring in one ear. He walked over to Mom and she gave him a hug.

  “When did you get back?” she asked.

  He kissed her cheek and wiggled his eyebrows at us. “Hello, young ones.” He reached out to shake Matthew’s hand and turned back to my mom. “I came straight from the airport. I have a surprise for you, something from India.”

  The door to the garden opened, and a tall, dark-haired man appeared. In that moment, it was like time stopped. We stood absolutely still, staring, and even the fountain seemed to fall silent. The sun shone down upon us, and I realized I held my breath. Something monumental was about to happen, something I’d remember forever.

  “Hello, Claire de Lune.”

  The color drained from Mom’s face. “Simon? Is that you?”

  “I have been searching for you, my darling Claire, for so many years. I was about to give up when I walked into a café in Rishikesh and saw Frankie.” He turned and looked at me, his green eyes intense as he searched my face. “Is this Fiona? Our Fiona?”

  I nodded, giving him a wobbly smile and a little wave. When he smiled back at me, I knew my mom was right. We did have the same dimple in our cheek.

  Mom looked flustered, and it was the first time I’d ever seen her like this.

  “I waited for you,” she said. “You never came.”

  He walked slowly toward her, and I noticed he had a slight limp. “I was in an accident, ma cherie. It happened as I was on my way to meet you. I stayed in the hospital for weeks, and it took months before I could walk again. By the time I got out, you’d already gone, and I had no way to contact you.”

  “You were hurt?”

  He nodded. “I never would have abandoned you on purpose, and I never once stopped loving you. Not for one day. Not for one moment. Can you forgive me?”

  He opened his arms to her, and she didn’t hesitate. She ran to him, and he held her close.

  “Uh, who is Simon?” asked Matthew, his voice a whisper.

  I found it hard to keep my composure. “My father.”

  Frankie looked on proudly. “Mission accomplished,” he said. “Let’s give them a little privacy, kiddos.”

  “You know what this means, don’t you?” asked Matthew as we walked back into the kitchen. I shook my head, and he grinned. “It means your mom was right all along. That fountain is magical.”

  I slid my arms around his waist. “I certainly got what I wished for.”

  He kissed the top of my head. “Me too.”

  Frankie winked at us. “I see the two of you are getting along well. This worked out even better than I planned.”

  Matthew put his arm around my shoulders and pulled me close. I tilted my head and looked at Frankie. “There is one thing I’m a little confused about. How did the two of you know each other in the first place?”

  Frankie grinned. “Moonbeam is my godson. His daddy was my best friend in the whole wide world.”

  “Moonbeam?” I asked, trying very hard not to laugh.

  “Shush,” said Matthew with a smile. “My parents were . . . unique. Like your mom.”

  “Your parents were more than unique, Moonbeam,” said Frankie. “They were two of the best people I’ve ever met. Like your parents, Fiona.” He touched Matthew’s yin and yang necklace. “I’m glad to see you still wear your old man’s necklace.”

  “I never take it off.” Matthew shook his hand and then turned to me to explain. “Frankie has always been there for me, from the time I was just a little guy. He even taught me to play the guitar. That’s why I am such a decent guitarist.”

  Frankie’s wide face wrinkled into a frown. “Decent? Who would call you decent? That is outrageous. That is like calling Michelangelo a decent painter. You are the best guitarist I’ve ever heard, and I’ve spent some time around the greats, my man.”

  I put my hands up. “I said you were pretty cute too.”

  Matthew gave me a saucy wink. “I’ll take that.”

  Frankie scratched his chin. “Who would have thought that one day Claire’s little girl and Anna’s little boy would hook up? We did a lot of weed in our day, but we never would have come up with something like that. It’s amazing. It’s like fate or something.”

  “Not fate. Magic,” I said softly.

  Frankie’s face lit up, and he nodded. “It is indeed.”

  Even though I couldn’t see it, count it, or calculate it, I knew I was right. Magic had brought Matthew to me, and it brought Simon back to my mother.

  I held Matthew close as the secret river rushed silently under our feet and the fountain gurgled softly in the garden. I looked out the window, and for a second, I thought I saw something silver shimmering in the water. Was it the magic of the fountain or the spirit of dear Aunt Francesca, coming back to make sure my mother and I not only found our true loves but also somehow managed to keep them? I couldn’t be certain. It felt like she was still with us, though, watching over us with a smile on her lips and the bright summer sun on her face.

  “What are you thinking about?” asked Matthew.

  “Something I read in Aunt Francesca’s journal,” I said. “In the end, we only regret the chances we couldn’t take, the decisions we took too long to make, and all the wonderful things we did not bake.”

  He smiled. “It would have to be about baking.”

  “Of course,” I said, and as I pulled him closer to give him a kiss, I thought I heard the faint strains of bubbling laughter coming from the fountain, as effervescent as a glass of champagne. Before I could be certain, however, a soft breeze blew through the crumbling old walls of the Enchanted Garden Café and carried the sound right up to the summer sky.

  Piña Colada Smoothie

  2 cups good coconut milk (Fiona would not use the cheap stuff)

  2 cups pineapple juice

  2 cups fresh pineapple (canned will do)

  1 shot of rum (or more, if you’re trying to get a handsome stranger to share his secrets with you)

  Put everything in a blender, add ice, and puree until smooth. This recipe makes 2 or 3 good-size smoothies, perfect for a romantic night in the garden.

  Moses’s Favorite Snickerdoodles

  1 cup butter, softened

  2 cups sugar

  2 eggs

  1 teaspoon vanilla

  3 cups flour

  1/2 teaspoon cream of tartar

  1/2 teaspoon baking soda

  For rolling:

  4 tablespoons sugar

  2 teaspoons cinnamon

  Cream the butter with an electric mixer and then add the sugar. As soon as it’s incorporated, add the eggs one at a time and the vanilla. Mix together the flour, cream of tartar, a
nd baking soda in a small bowl. Slowly add the dry mix, beating it on low speed. Cover and chill.

  Mix the 4 tablespoons of sugar with the 2 teaspoons of cinnamon and place in a shallow bowl. Form the cookie dough into 1-inch balls and roll the balls in the cinnamon/sugar mix. Place on an ungreased cookie sheet and bake in a 375-degree oven for 10 minutes (or until slightly golden and brown around the edges).

  This makes about 4 dozen cookies, but it won’t be enough, especially if you enjoy them as much as Moses does. Consider doubling the recipe.

  Aunt Francesca’s Secret Sugar Cookie Recipe

  3 cups of flour

  1 1/2 teaspoon baking powder

  1/2 teaspoon salt

  1 cup of sugar

  1 cup butter

  1 slightly beaten egg

  3 tablespoons cream

  1 teaspoon vanilla

  Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Sift together flour, baking powder, and salt. Mix sugar into the dry ingredients. Cut in butter with a fork or a pastry blender until particles are fine. Add beaten egg.

  Add cream and vanilla. Mix well and refrigerate dough. Roll out into 1/8-inch thickness. Cut cookies using cookie cutters. Place on a parchment-lined baking sheet. Bake for 8–10 minutes or until golden. Cool before decorating.

  Aunt Francesca would say the magic is in the baker’s hands, not the ingredients, but a nice heavy cream makes these cookies extra tasty.

  A big thank you to all the people who helped turn the idea for this book into a reality, especially my wonderful editor Lara Parker and my fantastic cover artist Najla Qamber. I’d be lost without the two of you.

  Thanks also to my readers, including Malissa Close, Annie Amsden, Katie Ernst, Anne Lippin, Colleen Myers, and Andrea Durnell. You saw this book at various stages and used your own unique talents to make it into something special. I owe each of you a big glass of wine and lots of chocolate.