Chapter Seventeen
The first opportunity for Mari to meet James since the cruise came the following Friday for lunch.
He pressed for dinner but settled for lunch.
“As strange as it sounds, I don’t leave my home in the evenings without my family unless Rosa has made plans for me. And that only started happening since her divorce was final.”
“Never?”
“Never! Anything that needs doing can be done during the day. And Fridays are busy at the restaurant. Since Gio moved to Temecula, I’m gone more . . . but that’s with my family.”
James didn’t push.
He’d take lunch.
Lunch that had to be far outside of Little Italy or anywhere Mari could be seen by anyone she knew.
James made reservations at a restaurant in La Jolla close to the ocean, where they could walk afterward.
Nothing fancy was Mari’s request. “If I leave in anything other than comfortable shoes, questions will be asked.”
“In my neighborhood, lunch, and casual . . . anything else?” he asked.
With his walking orders in hand, he gave himself three hours for his lunch date and arrived at the restaurant twenty minutes early.
Her outfit was understated, her makeup barely there, but the shine in her eyes lit up the room when their gaze met.
The hostess walked away before Mari had been led completely to the table.
James stood and greeted her with a familiar kiss on her cheek. “Hello, beautiful,” he whispered in her ear.
“You spoil me with your compliments,” she said.
He held out her chair and waited for her to sit.
Once seated across from her, James reached a hand across the table. “It’s been a long week.”
Mari grazed her fingers against his and smiled. “I have spent more time on the phone with you between texting and calls this week than I have with all my family combined in the past month.”
“That’s a win for me.”
Mari took her hand away and rested it in her lap. She glanced around the outside patio that sat on a second story of a building. “What made you choose this place?”
“They have a fabulous Reuben.”
“Is that what they’re known for?”
He shrugged. “I have no idea. I’m the kind of person that chooses the restaurant based on what I want to eat. I’ve only ever had the Reuben here.”
“You’ve never tried anything else?”
He shook his head.
“Where would you go for steak?”
“Steak is the one thing I do well on the grill. But if I do go out, I like Eddies.”
“Fish?”
James rattled off the names of three places he moved between.
Her eyes narrowed. “Italian?”
He opened his mouth, then closed it. “Why do I feel this is a trap?”
She leaned forward. “If you say Olive Garden, I’m going to have to leave.”
The longer he was silent, the more serious her expression became.
“You have to admit, their breadsticks are on point.”
Mari scooted her chair back.
She made him laugh.
“Kidding,” he said to stop her. Though he knew she was bluffing.
“I’ll give you a pass on that one.”
The waiter stepped up to the table and asked if they wanted to start with anything other than water.
Mari asked for sparkling water with lemon, then asked to hear their specials. Once the waiter finished describing both a fresh fish and a soup of the day, Mari quizzed the man on what was recommended as well as what was most popular.
Nowhere was the Reuben stated.
The waiter walked away, promising to return shortly.
Mari looked over the menu again before putting it down.
“How do you judge a restaurant? I would imagine owning one your whole life either gives you an advantage or makes it difficult to eat out.”
She glanced around. “Cleanliness.”
“Of course.”
“No, I’m not talking about the tables or the dishes.
I look at the floors and light fixtures.
The restrooms. If there is a special, that means the chef is testing something out to determine if it should be on the menu .
. . or the ingredients are in season. This is always a plus for me.
I’m not sure you can consider my scale of judgment an advantage.
It certainly limits my desire to eat out. ”
“Even when you have to cook for other people every day?”
“I’m not in the downstairs kitchen as much as I once was. Besides, you eat every day, don’t you? You must cook.”
“My girls would argue with you.”
“You don’t cook?”
James rubbed his hands together. “I’m more of a warmer-upper.”
“I don’t think I should ask what it is you warm up.”
His lips pressed in a straight line. “Probably not.”
She clicked her tongue. “Did your girls learn to cook from their mother?”
“They learned to microwave from their father.”
Mari unwrapped her silverware from the napkin and placed the cloth on her lap. “I suppose I shouldn’t judge. I tried with Chloe, but that girl . . .”
“Really?” James asked.
“Let’s just say it’s a good thing she and Dante don’t live far away.”
The waiter returned. Mari ordered the daily soup and a simple salad. James went with his favorite sandwich.
Their conversation flowed through lunch without any awkward pauses or moments of “what do I say next.”
They followed their meal with a walk that led them down to the cliffs of La Jolla.
Tourists and locals alike spread out over the picturesque landscape, giving them little privacy.
When he saw Mari glance at her watch, James knew it was time to walk her to her car.
“What are your weekend plans?” he asked.
“We’re going to Gio and Emma’s for dinner on Sunday. A birthday celebration.”
“Whose birthday?” he asked.
“Mine.”
He bent down slightly. “Your birthday is Sunday?”
“No. It was yesterday.”
“Your birthday was yesterday?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“And you didn’t tell me.”
“It’s a birthday, James. We have them every year.”
He shifted from one foot to another. “If I had known, I would have done better than a Reuben sandwich.” He’d have come with a gift and chocolates or something.
“It’s not a big deal. I’ll have another birthday next year.”
“Don’t think I won’t write it down and remember it.”
Mari looked away. “You have Ellie’s game tomorrow, right?”
Mari had a great way of changing the subject off her. “With an early start time, I’d complain, but I know I’m going to miss these when she’s away at college.”
Mari turned and rested her back against the railing separating the park from the ocean. “Any more talk of them picking a local college because of your single status?”
He shook his head. “No. But they are adamant that I get on a dating app so they can help me look for a date.”
Mari’s smile fell slightly. “I hope they stay away from those things. They’re not safe.”
“Have you—”
“God no. But Chloe . . .”
“Chloe what?”
“It’s a long story. The short version is . . . Chloe attracted the wrong sort of man.”
James placed a hand on Mari’s arm. “He hurt her?”
Mari nodded.
“Was she okay?”
“Ultimately. Dante says she still has nightmares on occasion.”
James wanted to know more and didn’t at the same time. “I’m not ready for my girls to leave.”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have told you any of that.”
“Of course you should have. Burying my head in the sand and not preparing my girls for the world is the fastest way to get them hurt.”
“You can do all that, and still bad things happen. We can’t stop our children from living their lives. Nor would we want to. But you can warn your girls of the sins of dating apps.”
James leaned a hip against the railing. “They won’t listen to me. They think I’m old and out of touch.”
“Do they listen to their mother?”
“Cindy knows less on the subject than I do. I doubt she’d have any luck either.”
“That doesn’t mean you don’t try,” Mari said.
James glanced over Mari’s shoulder as the call of a sea lion sparked the others sunbathing on rocks to join the choir.
Mari followed his attention and turned to watch the mammals.
“I really should let you go,” James told her.
“Probably.”
James nudged closer, their shoulders touching. “This is where I want to ask if I can plan something better than a meal when I see you again.”
“Dance lessons?”
He knew she was teasing, but he ran with it anyway. “Don’t threaten me. I’ll have us booked in the next beginner class.”
“I wonder what my family would say about that.”
Was she really considering his offer? “It would be a great way for me to show you how amazing I am.”
“You’re so humble, James. You deserve a trophy.”
He put a hand to his chest. “I’m date-worthy.”
“Isn’t that what we’re doing now?”
“You know what I mean.”
She grinned and looked away.
James lifted his hand to her chin and made her look at him. “I’ll take what you’re willing to give. And push for more later.”
“You’re a patient man.”
“Remember that when later comes.” He inched closer and tilted her head up. “And it will come.”
Before giving her a reason to back up, he pressed his lips to hers for much too brief of a moment.
He wanted more. And from the smile on her face, she did, too.
That was enough for James to know that “later” would come sooner than, well . . . later.
Mari pulled Rosa away from the family for a private conversation once their Sunday meal was finishing up.
Giovanni and Emma’s home set on a vineyard was a picture right out of the hills of Tuscany. Gio’s slice of sommelier heaven.
Mari loved visiting.
She could hardly wait for the twins to come to have the excuse to stay over for several days at a time.
At least in the beginning, when Emma would welcome the help.
Though overstaying her welcome was always a risk.
Mari never wanted to be that mother-in-law.
She knew her son loved her, and Emma as well.
But no one encouraged a hovering grandmother expressing how she did it.
How she raised her children and how her way was the only way.
“James has suggested dance classes so we can see each other,” Mari told Rosa once they were well outside of being overheard.
Rosa laughed. “That’s not out of character at all.”
“It might not be so awkward if we did them together.”
“We? As in you and me?”
“You did convince me to join bunco as well as the cruise.”
“Only I’m not interested in dance lessons,” Rosa said.
“I didn’t say you should take lessons . . . just pretend—”
“Lie.” Rosa’s smile was laughing at her.
“Pretend for a night or two. Then you can say you lost interest, and I was enjoying myself and stayed on.”
“Ridicola.”
Mari grumbled. “It’s not ridiculous.”
“You like James. There’s nothing wrong with that. It’s been ten years.”
“Exactly ten years tomorrow. I know.” They kept walking through the rows of budding grapevines. “I need more time alone in this. I’m not ready for the kids to know. I could practically hear Paulo’s voice in our apartment when I returned.”
“And what did you hear him say?”
“Not like that. More of a memory. A presence. I woke up yesterday swearing I felt the bed dip beside me.”
Rosa stopped walking. “You’re considering that with another man. There is bound to be some trepidation.”
“I haven’t gotten used to kissing the man, I can’t even consider sleeping with him.”
They both started walking again.
“Why not?” Rosa asked. “We’re not as old as our children believe us to be.”
“Paulo and I were married.”
“Are you saying you didn’t before you were married?”
“Well . . .”
Rosa laughed again and kept the pace. “I won’t tell you to have sex with James. I won’t tell you not to. But I will suggest that at fifty-five, you’re old enough to take a lover if you want one.”
“That sounds so strange.”
“You’re old enough to know what you’re doing.” Rosa gestured toward the house. “Maybe they’ll surprise you.”
Mari was certain they wouldn’t surprise her. That Luca and Gio would protest or think differently about her. Chloe . . . maybe not. Even Franny might be confused to learn her nonna was dating.
“I’d be more nervous about the act and not about who knew I was doing it,” Rosa said.
“What do you mean?”
Rosa looked down at her body. “The only one that has seen this in years is my doctor. And even then, I have a piece of paper tossed over my shoulders.”
Mari ran a hand over her face. “Oh, God. I didn’t even think of that.”
“Really?”
“I am now.”
Rosa tucked her arm through Mari’s. “The good news is . . . James is the same age.”
“He didn’t have three children.”
“But he had a wife who had twins. I think when the time comes, worrying about where your breasts are on your chest will be the last thing you’re thinking about.”
Mari squeezed her eyes shut and saw exactly where her breasts were.
Rosa laughed and tugged on her arm. “I will lie to the kids for you. But you’re paying for my lessons that I’m only going to a couple of times.”
“Thank you.”
“On second thought, I’ll make James pay.”