2. Chapter Two
Chapter Two
Ramen and Dessert
SAL
The Next Morning
Sal promised herself when she built her new life in St. Stephenshire that she’d stop trying to please everyone.
Admittedly, the constant struggle to unlearn ingrained habits from her upbringing and her days as a surgeon in a hyper-competitive field was taxing.
If it weren’t for moving to St. Stephenshire, Sal would have recoiled into the emptiness of her former life.
This small, enchanting town, nestled on the outskirts of Cottage Grove, had healed her.
Sal took a sip of her favorite cup of coffee in her favorite café and peered out the window. The light from outside offered a faint amber haze throughout the entire coffee shop.
Each year, the town celebrated a most sacred day: the Autumn Equinox, a time when part of the world officially transitioned into the autumn season. With the equinox tomorrow, the shop owners and the mayor dedicated themselves during this peak season to their businesses.
Sal felt her knees buckle at the knowledge that she was going to launch one of the biggest events the town had ever seen tomorrow. The compulsion to make it a success was difficult to put into perspective. So much for trying to live outside of people’s expectations.
“Sal?” said a familiar voice.
“Hmm?” She blinked through her curtain bangs. Ted, her old friend and barista, was peering at her from behind the espresso counter.
“You were spacing out again. Everything all right?” he asked, sounding worried.
“Thanks, Ted, but I’m fine,” she said, looking down at her bag filled with pastries from Willow’s Web.
“I’m just stress shopping for food,” she pulled a croissant out and took a bite.
The buttery smoothness of the pastry offered her comfort.
“Willow makes the best croissants, though,” she said with her mouth half full as she sipped her coffee. Maybe that was why she bought so many.
“It’s good stress, I hope?” Ted ventured as he folded his sleeves up and worked at the espresso machine. Sal gave a weak grin and shrugged.
Ted cocked a bushy brow. “Ah, it’s no use if it isn’t any fun. Both doing life and loving others come with drawbacks. In both cases, you just have to decide if it’s worth your time.”
“Not complaining, but sometimes I just wish things didn’t have to be so stressful, you know?” she said.
Ted offered a discerning look. “Sadly, all things worth having come with some sacrifice. That’s just how life works,” he said, and then perked up as though he had just remembered something. “Say, Sal, when are you planning the other event we’re all excited to attend?”
Confused, Sal tilted her head.
Ted responded with a chuckle. “My God, you forgot about your own wedding?” He shook his head and offered a good-natured tut-tut.
Sal’s palm found her mouth; her diamond ring sparkled brightly in the natural sunlight as she let out a light laugh. “Ugh! I’m just so focused on making sure the art show is a success. I mean, I owe it to Claire, don’t I?”
At the mention of Claire’s name, Ted gave a wistful sigh and nodded.
Of course, who could forget Claire Liang?
She was the reason Sal was even in St. Stephenshire sipping Ted’s coffee and enjoying the fruits of her labor as she lounged in Autumn Town.
If it weren’t for Sal’s hard work and Claire’s inheritance, the beautifully designed place filled with the warmth of friendship and community would not exist. The least Sal could do was pay homage to her late best friend by showcasing her artwork at the art exhibit proudly.
Ted prepped an order and served it to one patron at the other end of the espresso bar. “How’s the prep coming along?” he asked after he returned to Sal.
“It’s going,” Sal said, finishing her croissant and taking the last sips of her coffee. “I just have to make sure everything is perfect.”
“I’m sure it will be an amazing ode to Claire and your friendship,” Ted said, his voice cracking slightly as he became misty-eyed.
Sal reached out and squeezed his old, calloused hands.
Ted sighed and nodded. Grief was best shared in small, bittersweet doses between old friends.
But instead of letting the grief keep her, Sal hopped off the bar stool; her short legs ached from hanging too long without support.
“You’ll be there tomorrow?” She turned to him as she lifted her groceries with one arm and labored a tote bag onto her shoulder.
“Of course I will!” Ted smiled.
Sal left Ted’s café and paused for a moment to savor the view of what they had built.
Autumn Town—a place with glorious marble archways and mid-century fixtures that surrounded a beautiful center garden, where the gentle hum of instrumental music blended with the cheerful chatter coming from the shops filling its open halls that lined a lush pocket park.
She strolled to the opposite side, cutting past the center garden, not worried about being late for her next appointment.
“Hello, Dr. Poe,” a familiar voice rang out as she walked into her cozy corner office. Michael McGuirre, her lawyer turned confidant on all things business, approached her as she set down her groceries and sat on the plush chair behind her old wooden desk.
“We’ve been through this, Michael. Only call me Doctor for formalities, and just Sal for everything else,” she said as she sat at her desk. “Glad to see you back from your vacation at the Riviera.”
“Sal,” he corrected himself, “and thanks. Glad to be home.” His characteristically deep eye bags seemed less prominent after vacationing. “I’m excited about the art show—it’s tomorrow, isn’t it? You must have your hands full.”
“You can’t imagine. Will you be going?”
“Of course I will. By the way, I have your papers. They just arrived at my office. Impeccable timing,” he said, pulling a folder from his briefcase.
Sal took the folder and opened it. Her eyes darted across the document as she smiled at its contents. “Thank you, but I thought you weren’t here on business.”
“I’m not,” he said. “Those papers were a favor, remember?”
She gave him an affectionate grin. “You’re the best, Mike.”
“I truly am.” He nodded kindly and went on his way.
As soon as Michael left, her smile faded.
She dropped the folder on her desk and leaned back in the chair.
The folder had all the documents required for their upcoming wedding.
There was a list that also noted possible churches to pick for the ceremony.
I don’t even know if we want a church wedding, Sal thought as she fiddled with her ring, and remembered what Aveline said yesterday.
Fair game. We got a sister in return. It sounded sweet, but looking back, Sal couldn’t get past how transactional it sounded too.
Was this ring—was the wedding—an expensive down payment for Sal as a wife?
It was poetic, in a sense—his mother purchasing a rare diamond ring, hoping for a daughter-in-law, and Rafa fulfilling its purpose by placing it on her finger.
Almost as if she was destined to have that ring and marry him.
But was she really? Was she everything Rafa wanted in a wife as she was?
Or had she been chosen for a role she would be expected to fulfill?
Expectations, yet again. Was there no escape from it?
A swell of pride would rise from being chosen by someone as discerning as Rafa, but a weariness washed over her.
Her eyes wandered across her desk—pictures of herself, her cats, and Rafa stood bearing witness to her state of unrest. An intense pang of guilt hit her chest. “I need to get out of my head,” she muttered under breath.
She would talk to Rafa about the wedding, and maybe about the ring too.
***
Sal arrived home after a tiring day in Autumn Town to find Kimmy and Hana playing with each other.
“Meow!” said the little white tabby cat. Sal bent over to pick her up. “Hello, Kimmy,” she cooed, scratching the cat and listening to her purr.
She checked the wall clock and realized it was nearly dinner time. Her evening ritual was her favorite part of the day—eating a home-cooked dinner with Kimmy on her lap, a warm bath while Hana, her other cat, watched her turn into a raisin, and a phone call from Rafa before going to bed.
She put Kimmy down as her phone rang. She pulled her phone out of her leather tote bag and saw Rafa’s name and picture flash on the screen. It was a little too early for his call. Was everything all right? Immediately, she picked up the call. “Hello?” she said into the receiver.
“My love…” he said, his baritone voice soothing. “How was your day?”
Phone pressed to her ear, she relaxed, realizing there must be no emergency after all. Sal sank onto the tan leather sofa opposite the fireplace, melting into its plush comfort. “It was busy…yours?” she replied as she took a moment to close her eyes.
“It was busy, too,” he responded, sounding tired. “Now, open the door, my love.”
Sal’s eyes shot open as she sat up. “What do you mean? Are you here?” She walked to the front door and peeked through the window, surprised to see Rafa smiling at her from outside. She unlocked and opened it, and there he was. Her best friend, her confidant, her fiancé, and her home—Rafa, her Rafa.
His eyes lit up his face, almost camouflaging his exhausted smile as he lifted a plastic bag in each hand. “Your favorite.” He beamed.
She didn’t know what came over her. But in that moment, seeing Rafa made her breathing steady and her heart beat slower, and she wanted nothing more than to absorb him into her—a cure for her nervous soul.
Sal ignored the bags and embraced him, his arms still outstretched.
His scent of teakwood and neroli encapsulated her as she wrapped her hands around his broad back.
He startled at first and then relaxed. All the nervousness and doubt within her suddenly dissipated.
“Was it a bad day?” he whispered.
Sal took a deep breath. “The art show—it’s just getting to me.”