by C. L. Ryder
“Bullshit. I was insensitive and hasty. You were right. I was acting on my emotions at the time.”
Marcos sat down next to Bethany. He stared ahead obviously having some difficulty getting his words out. “No, Bethany,” he said, shaking his head. “I was wrong. I came here to apologize to you. Look, uh, Jackson told me about what Callie had told you before she passed. I don’t know if it was something I was supposed to know, but I’m glad I heard it. That’s your mom. She wanted what was best for you. I’m just a dumb old man stuck in a dead-end job—no offense—at the tail end of my life. I thought I could justify being angry because I’d convinced myself you weren’t looking out for your own interests. But really, I was just being was selfish. Stubborn. Probably scared, you know? Your mom was right. You’re still young. Jackson too. It’s time to move on.”
Bethany looked at him, awestruck.
“And actually,” Marcos went on, “I wanted to ask you if I could come back to work. To help you till the end. Or at least help Jackson until you pick yourself back up.”
A smile slowly spread on Bethany’s face, and it felt good. “Of course you can,” she said. “But I don’t intend on closing anytime soon. Not until the bitter end.”
Marcos eyed her. “Bethany, don’t be stubborn like me.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Look, I don’t know what happened with you and your woman…”
“Marcos. She’s the CEO of The Standard. Jackson told you that, right?”
“Yeah, I know. It sucks. I was angry when I heard too. I can only imagine how you feel. And Jackson…” He whistled. “Fuckin’ aye, he’s pissed. But listen, take some advice from someone who’s been around the block for a while. Something about her caused you to fall in love with her, right?”
Bethany only stared at him. Marcos patted her thigh. “And I’ve known you since you were a kid. Just a kid. I’ve never known you to be a bad judge of character. Your dad was like that too. When you find someone special, sometimes you gotta learn to forgive certain things you don’t like about them. If you don’t, and let them go… man, you’ll regret that shit.” Marcos stood up and drained the rest of the whiskey. “Think about it.”
“Sure,” Bethany said. She couldn’t find words to say anything else, she was too shocked. Of all the things Marcos had said to her since walking into the door, that was the least expected.
“Call me if you need anything. Hopefully you’ll be back on your feet soon, yeah? Otherwise, one of us will be back to check on you. Don’t do anything stupid, okay?”
“I won’t,” Bethany said.
Marcos patted her on the back, and then left.
Eighteen
Jane drove up the winding road into the La Jolla hills overlooking the shore. She passed the spot where she and Bethany had watched the sunset and had their moment in the back of her car. Her heart hurt when she thought about the memories from that weekend. They just wouldn’t leave her mind, and neither would the pain.
She’d fucked up, but at the same time, there was nothing that could’ve been done differently. Fate had played a cruel trick on the both of them.
She pulled the car into the long driveway of a beautiful single story house nestled into a thick line of trees on a hill behind it. It wasn’t quite a mansion, but it was big—much bigger than anything she would’ve wanted to live in himself, but she’d purchased it not long after she’d made her fortune.
She walked up to the front door and used the spare key she had to open it, and the nostalgic smell of spaghetti and meatballs wafting out from the kitchen greeted him. Her favorite.
“Mom!” she called. “I’m here.”
“In the kitchen, sweetheart!” Mom’s voice called back.
She took off her shoes and walked across the living room’s plush white carpet, past the expansive windows that gave a spectacular view out at the La Jolla shore, through the dining room, and into the cavernous kitchen where Mom was working at the stove.
“Hi, Mom,” Jane said, coming up to her and wrapping her arms around her.
“Hi, Janey,” Mom said, hugging her back. She took a quick taste of the spaghetti sauce. “Mm. Perfect.” She turned to face her, and gasped. “Honey, what happened to your face?”
“Boxing class,” she said. “It’s nothing. The spaghetti smells great.”
“Well, I knew you were coming, so I had to make it for you. We can eat soon, if you’re hungry.”
“Definitely. But I can’t stay long, I’ve got some work I need to finish.”
She smiled. “Alright, I understand. Why don’t you go watch some TV while I finish with the food?”
“It’s okay, I want to talk to you. Is there anything I can help you with?”
“Why don’t you make the salad for us? Stuff’s all in the fridge there.”
Jane went to the fridge and pulled out a plastic box full of spinach, a couple ripe tomatoes and an avocado, and brought them over to the counter.
“Oh, guess what?” Mom said. “I met someone.”
“You did? Really? It’s been a while since you’ve dated anyone, isn’t it?”
“Well… no,” she replied with a sheepish smile. I just never mentioned it before.”
Jane laughed. “Tell me he’s not a loser, mom.”
“I’ve learned my lesson too many times,” she said. “But I realized I do have a type. I can’t deal with the hoity-toity businessmen types you hang around with. No offense.”
“So who’s this guy?” she asked as she washed the spinach.
“I met him at a farmer’s market. He has a farm. Those tomatoes are his, actually. He’s a real salt of the earth kind of guy, just the kind I like. But he doesn’t drink. Doesn’t do much of anything, really, except work on his farm. But he’s charming, and a little rough around the edges.”
“Sounds like your type,” Jane said. “And he definitely doesn’t sound like a loser. That’s great, mom.” She washed the tomatoes and then started to slice them on the cutting board. “Actually, I… met someone too.”
She gasped. “Oh my god! You did? Someone serious?”
She nodded. “But I don’t know if things are going to work out.”
“Why not?”
“I kind of screwed things up, Mom. She doesn’t want to talk to me.”
“What did you do?”
She sighed and transferred the salad ingredients into a bowl. “It’s hard to explain. It has to do with my company. She also has a coffee shop, and mine is pushing hers out of business. But we didn’t know that until recently.”
“Wow,” she said. “Dramatic.”
“I know. But I want to help her. I want to be there for her. And I think I can help her, but I don’t think she’ll let me.”
“If she loves you, and if she’s right for you, then she’ll understand what you’re trying to do for her.”
“I don’t know. This is pretty bad, Mom.”
“You’re a good person, Jane. You need to stick to your guns. Help her. It doesn’t matter if she still hates you after, but you have to follow through. And if it was meant to be, then it was meant to be. If not, then at least you did the right thing.”
“That makes sense.”
She turned off the stove and then poured the steaming pasta into a strainer. “Of course it does. You’ll make the right decisions. You don’t need me to tell you what those are. You were always better at making good decisions than I was, anyway.”
She laughed, and came over to give her a kiss on the head. “Thanks, mom.”
“You’re welcome. Okay, help me bring this into the kitchen. Let’s eat.”
Nineteen
“Two spicys,” Jackson called back to Marcos as he finished ringing up the customer. He then quickly set to work at the espresso machine, and after he’d made magic, brought the drink out to the woman who’d ordered it.
It was a relief having Marcos back. With Bethany out of commission, it’d been extra stressful having to multi-task ev
erything, even for someone like him, who thrived on doing a billion things at once.
A short while later, Marcos brought the sandwiches out to the floor, and things were completely quiet again. Jackson poured them cups of freshly brewed iced tea, and they enjoyed them at the counter.
When the door chimed, Marcos looked up and smiled. “Hello, miss. Welcome.”
Jackson turned around from the counter and tensed up when he saw who was at the door.
“What are you doing here?” he jabbed. “Didn’t I say never to come back here?”
“Oh, shit,” Marcos murmured in realization.
“Listen,” Jane said, holding up her hands in front of her. “I’m here because I want to talk about Bethany.”
“You need to get out,” Jackson said.
“I need your help, please, I’m begging you. I’ve been calling her, but can’t get through, I need to talk to her. You don’t know how much I love her—”
“I don’t care! Get out!”
“Jackson,” Marcos said, gently grabbing his arm. “Hold on.”
“Marcos! You know who that is, right? You know what she’s responsible for?”
“Yeah, it’s Jane. I got that. But listen.” He pulled him close, his voice lowering. “I know you’re mad, I’m mad too. But I think we need to give the woman a chance.”
“Why should we give her a chance? Did she give us a chance?”
“Look, all I’m saying is that we should hear what she has to say. Callie would’ve done that for her, you know?”
She felt Jackson slowly relax.
“So let’s give her a chance?”
He crossed his arms and sighed. “Fine.”
“Thank you,” Jane said, walking forward. “I’m sorry, I didn’t get your name.”
“Marcos. Don’t get comfortable, I never said I liked you. I’m just giving you a chance.”
“Right. I understand. Maybe we can sit and talk?”
Jackson gestured to a table. Jane sat down, and the two of them followed.
“I don’t know how I can convey how much Bethany means to me,” Jane said. “But please believe me when I say that my initial desire to help LeFlorette’s had nothing to do with my love for her, though it means even more now. I’d fallen for this place before I’d fallen for Bethany.”
“You’d fallen for this place,” Jackson repeated, unconvinced.
“It’s why I kept coming back. But it was being with her that helped guide me towards the decisions I’m now making.”
“What are you talking about?” Marcos asked.
“I’m going to be making some changes in my company. I’ll spare you the boring details but essentially I want to go back to our roots. As soon as we became really successful we started moving further and further away from the ideals we founded on. I want to stop that before it’s too late. Part of that plan would involve LeFlorette’s.”
“How?”
“Your food. My current CFO pushed low quality, but well marketed foods into our stores. We used to only serve coffee. It’s what we started on. Just quality coffees. I can’t save your business, but I can save what really matters, and those are the recipes that Bethany’s parents made, and that she’s helped improve on. I’ve tasted her cooking. It’s fantastic.”
“How do we know you’re not just trying to steal our name and recipes to make your brand seem more authentic?” Jackson asked.
“Contract,” Jane said, and she put her briefcase on the table. “I can show you a sample of it right now. You’d have everything in writing, and nothing Bethany feels uncomfortable with would stay.”
“And how does she know she can trust you?”
“I don’t know how I can answer that. But maybe you can help me convince her.”
Jackson and Marcos looked at each other. “How would we do that?”
“Well, first you could look at this contract. If you’ve both have read it and approve of it, she might more willing to look at it herself. I want to do this for her, regardless of whether she forgives me or not.”
“I don’t know shit about that kind of thing,” Marcos said. “Jackson, you look at it.”
He sighed. “Okay. Fine. Let me see it.”
“Okay,” Jane said, and opened her bag and pulled out a small packet of papers. “Take as long as you need.”
He did. After ten minutes of reading, Marcos got up and went to clean the tables and wait at the register. After thirty minutes, he made the three of them lattes. After an hour, Jackson had read through the contract twice.
“So,” he said, closing the packet and pushing it back towards Jane. “What do you have planned for getting Bethany back?”
Jane blinked, and then broke into a bright grin. “Do you happen to know a good florist?”
Twenty
The whiskey was long gone, but it was better that way. Her pounding headache seemed to be unending now, and her bed was the best place to deal with it.
When she dozed off, her dreams were filled with Jane, and when she woke, her heart was always racing. Why did it have to be her? The question circled around her mind in a never-ending loop.
She missed her. She wanted to see her. Jane hadn’t called or come by, and Bethany had tried her best to convince herself that she didn’t care and didn’t want her to come. She dreamed the phone would ring and it would be her, and everything would be fine. When the postman dropped the mail into the slot on the door, she bounded out of bed, thinking—praying—that Jane had come to see her.
The strange thing was, she still couldn’t come up with an answer for what she’d do if it were actually her. She might just slam the door in her face, or hang up the phone. She didn’t know.
She got up from bed and went to the bathroom, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror. It’d only been three days, but she looked more like a week deep. Her hair was greasy and disheveled, her eyes were red from crying.
I’m pathetic, she thought. What the hell is wrong with me?
You love her, a voice came. It’s fine to grieve. But it’s time to pick yourself up. To move on. And maybe it’s time for forgiveness?
I don’t know if I can forgive her, she thought. Can I?
“That can come later,” the voice said. “There’s someone else you need to forgive, first.”
Bethany turned around. That voice… it wasn’t in her thoughts. It was…
She walked out of the bathroom towards the kitchen and towards the sound of the voice. Bright bands of sunlight streamed onto the kitchen floor from the windows, and Bethany squinted her eyes. Her head didn’t hurt, but her eyes felt like they hadn’t seen sunlight in years.
“Mom?”
Mom was standing in the kitchen, a halo of light surrounding her body. She wore a beautiful white dress. “Hi, Bethany,” she said.
“Hi, Mom,” she said.
“You’ve done all you can, honey. You know you have. You’ve done a damn fine job of it too. Better than I ever could’ve.”
“Mom…”
“Don’t argue with me, Bethany. You know it’s true.”
“Then why couldn’t I do it? Why couldn’t I save the shop?”
She smiled. “Some things can’t be saved, honey, no matter how badly we want to save them. But you did your best, and that’s all you can do. So, it’s time to let all that go now, okay?”
She looked at Mom, the tears overflowing from her eyes.
“Do you know who you need to forgive?” Mom asked.
Bethany wiped the tears from her cheeks, and then nodded slowly. “Yeah.”
“Good. I’m proud of you. Here…” She lifted up her hand, and in it, she held a single white rose.
Bethany reached her hand out to take the flower. She touched its stem…
Her eyes opened.
A dim light blanketed the room, drifting in through half-closed blinds. Her heart was pounding.
A dream…
Bethany looked at the clock—it was mid-afternoon. She’d nearly slept all d
ay.
She groaned and slid out of bed. The headache was gone, but her body felt like she’d been in the ring and had taken the beating of her life. She went to the bathroom and checked herself in the mirror. She was even more disheveled than she was in the dream. Steaming hot water poured from the tub faucet, immediately clouding the bathroom with a thick layer of steam. She stripped off pajamas, and lowered herself into the bath.
