SEBASTIAN
It’s a few days after Delia’s funeral, and I haven’t been able to get Lana off my mind.
My fingers itch to call her, to ask how she’s doing, to invite her out for coffee, to reconnect.
But I hold myself back. She just lost her grandmother, and now she has the task of starting life over, alone.
Me and Lana reconnecting has to be on her terms, so I wait patiently for her to call me.
Then, the following afternoon, while I’m cleaning out the stables, my cell rings. I pull off my work gloves and toss them on the ground. I slide my phone out of my pocket and look down at the screen to see Lana’s number.
I hurriedly answer. Cleaning out the stables can wait.
“Hey,” I say, trying to sound casual.
“Hey,” Lana replies, her voice raspy and warm. “I was wondering, are you busy?”
“I was just mucking out the stable, but I can be done in thirty minutes. Why? Do you need something?”
“Yes, I need a distraction from cleaning out Nana’s shop. Have coffee with me?”
“I’d love to,” I reply, unable to suppress my grin. “I’ll pick you up in about forty-five minutes.”
“See you soon,” Lana replies, and I can hear the joy in her voice. It makes my heart flip.
She ends the call, and I hurriedly finish cleaning out the stable, then quickly take a shower and change. Forty-five minutes later, I pull up outside the gift-shop.
The doors and windows are open, and through them I can see Lana working. She’s wearing paint-splattered overalls, and her hair is covered by a scarf. The vision is so perfect -- so like the Lana from my youth -- that I pause for a moment to admire the view.
Lana must feel my gaze, because she turns in my direction, a smile tugging at her lips.
“Take a picture. It will last longer!” she teases, and we both laugh.
I enter the shop to see that all of the previous stock is gone, and Lana is dismantling the shelves.
“How’s it going?” I ask, picking up a screwdriver, and helping out.
“I’m going stir crazy in here,” she says, laying down her hammer. “Leave that. Let’s get coffee.”
I finish removing the shelf, and then lay it down along with the screwdriver, and follow Lana out of the shop. She looks up, then asks, “Is Jumpin' Beans still open?”
“Are you kidding? That place will be here until the end of time. It’s not going anywhere, just like the gi--” I stop myself before I say, ‘the gift shop.’ I still can’t get to grips with the fact Delia is gone.
Lana gives me a sad smile. “I know what it’s like. It still doesn’t feel real. I keep expecting her to walk in at any moment and yell at me for something. ‘Lana girl, look at the state of this place. What do you think you’re doin’?’”
We both laugh at her perfect imitation of Delia.
“So, you’re holding up okay?”
“Yeah, I’m keeping busy. There’s a lot to sort out. The shop, and the apartment too. Then there sc--” Lana stops abruptly. “How about you? How is the ranch?”
I wonder what she was about to say, but something in Lana’s gaze tells me not to press it, so instead I reply, “Everything is doing good. We recently started offering horse-drawn carriage rides.”
“Yeah, Monica told me. Something about some hotshot Hollywood couple requesting them?”
“Yeah, that’s right. It was this huge circus, but it gave a boost to the resort. Our bookings have increased tenfold. Now everyone wants their weddings here, and horse-drawn carriages of course.”
Lana smiles, her teeth a perfect, pearly white against her dark lips, and for a moment all I can do is stare. The five years apart have only made Lana more beautiful, my memories of her don't do the reality justice. Her eyes shimmer in the sunlight, sparkling like citrine gemstones.
“How is Monica?” I ask, finally getting my senses together.
“She’s good, thanks. She’s been a real rock for me since I returned.”
“I’m glad you have family here to support you. But you know, if you need anything, I’m here too.”
“Thank you. I appreciate it.”
We arrive at Jumpin' Beans and both order coffee Frappuccino’s, then take them outside to the seating area to enjoy the warm weather.
“Who was the kid at the funeral? I didn’t know Monica had a son,” I ask, trying to make small talk. I’m not sure where Lana and I stand with each other, so for now, I’m sticking to ‘safe’ topics.
When Lana’s eyes widen, I wonder what I’ve said wrong.
“Oh … erm … he’s a relative Monica is looking after for a while,” Lana answers hurriedly. Then asks, “How are your brothers?”
“Yeah, they’re all doing well. Ryan and Antony both have babies on the way.”
“Oh my god, when did all this happen? Tell me everything.”
As we drink our fraps, I fill Lana in on the last few months, about how while working closely with sous chef Alicia Hughes, my older brother got the feisty red-head pregnant after a one-night stand, before eventually realizing he wanted more than a fling.
Now the two are living together -- with Alicia’s brood of siblings -- and expecting a child.
“Wow, I never thought I’d see Ryan settle down. I was sure he and Tucker were going to be players forever.”
Even five years ago, when Tucker was only sixteen, he had a reputation as a ladies’ man, breaking many hearts during his time at high school. He’s only gotten worse as he’s gotten older.
“Don’t worry, Tucker still is,” I assure her.
“What’s he doing these days?”
“Still surfing. He’s taking part in a contest in North Carolina right now.”
Lana’s eyes widen. “Wow. Good for him. And you mentioned Antony had a baby on the way too?”
“Yeah, you remember the twins’ nanny, Erin?”
Lana bites on her bottom lip. “Long blonde hair and brown eyes. Took over the care of the twins so Antony could return to work?”
“That’s the one. Well, she was still their nanny until recently. She and Antony started seeing each other in secret, and then she got pregnant.”
Lana laughs and shakes her head. “You Braddock boys are terrible. Next, you’ll be telling me Joshua got some chick pregnant, too.”
“Nah, he’s still single. He’s pining after a girl who’s already taken.”
Lana winces. “Ouch. And how about you?”
“Don’t worry, I don’t have any secret love children waiting to be uncovered,” I reply with an uneasy laugh. “I did just break up with someone though.”
“I’m sorry. Was it serious?”
“No, which is why we broke up. She thought I still had feelings for my ex. She was right.” Heat blazes across Lana’s cheeks and she glances away.
I’m not sure if it’s too much, too soon, but I can’t stop myself from continuing.
“You know when I called you up, and you told me about your grandmother--”
Lana gazes back at me, her yellow-brown eyes wide, and nods.
“I was calling to see if maybe we could try again, and then you tell me you’re moving back to town. It’s like fate or something--”
“Sebastian, a lot has changed since I left town. There’s things about me you don’t know.”
I reach across the table and take Lana’s hands. “Then tell me. Let me get to know you again. We don’t have to rush anything, but you moving back here is like we’re being given a second chance. I don’t want to waste that.”
Lana squeezes my fingers, a smile covering her lips. “I want that too, Sebastian. God, I missed you so much … I can’t believe we have this second chance.”
My heart explodes with joy hearing she wants this as much as I do. I lean across the table, closing the distance between us, and press my lips to hers.
Lana welcomes the kiss, her hands moving from mine, to loop around my neck and bring us closer, as her mouth parts, and her tongue slides past my teeth. Our tongues dance together, and I kiss Lana until we’re both breathless.
The world stops, and for a moment, it feels like the last five years never happened.
I’m where I was always meant to be, with Lana.
But, as she deepens the kiss, I can feel in the desperation of her lips that this isn’t the same woman I fell in love with.
The old Lana is still there, of course, but her time in New York has changed her, and morphed her into someone new.
Someone I can feel is holding back slightly.
I know I hurt her when we couldn’t make our relationship work, and I sense she’s been hurt again since then.
I make a silent vow to make sure Lana is never hurt again.
When we break apart, Lana is wide-eyed but grinning.
“Will you have dinner with me later?” I ask.
Lana’s smile drops. “I’d love to, but I can’t. Some other time though, for sure.”
“Okay, you just tell me where and when,” I reply, trying to infuse my tone with understanding, so Lana knows we’ll take things at her pace. “So, tell me, what do you have planned for the gift shop?”
Lana’s smile returns, and her eyes sparkle.
“I’m going to turn it into a studio and gallery, just like I always dreamed of.
People know me now; they know my work. Back in New York, before Ma-- before everything changed, I was making good money.
I had regular clients. I’m sure once they learn I’ve moved here, they will seek me out. ”
“I don’t doubt it,” I tell her with a smile, though I make a mental note of her slight slip up.
Was she going to say someone’s name? I decide to look up where she worked in New York later, when I’m alone.
“And you know what it’s like here, there are always people coming on vacation, and celebrities seeking a break.
I can ask Ryan to have some of your work in the resort, with information of how guests can buy more, if they want. ”
Lana laughs lightly. “Thank you, Sebastian. And don’t worry about speaking to Ryan. I fully intend to speak to him myself. I already had the same thought you did.”
Our Frappuccino’s empty, Lana stands from the table, and reaches for my hand. “Come, let me show you what I have planned for the shop.”
We walk back along the street, and once more, I feel like time has rewound … no, that’s not quite right. The five years apart did happen, but now Lana and I are where I always dreamed, we would be. In East Hampton, together; me with the ranch and she with the gallery. It’s all I ever wanted.
We get back to the gift shop, and Lana unlocks the door, and leads me inside.
“I want to gut everything. Nana, God rest her soul, her taste was a little outdated.”
We both laugh, and I recall how chintzy and kitsch Delia’s shop was, with lots of floral calico textiles, and excessive garishness and sentimentality.
I lost count of the number of tropical fruit shaped cushions the old woman stocked, or the ‘almost-but-not-quite’ tacky lamps with sculptures of toucans and flamingos built into the bases.
“I’m going to divide the space in two. The gallery will be as you enter.
I plan on decorating in simple and classic black and white, so the art speaks for itself.
Then I will have a private studio towards the rear, where the storeroom currently is.
Who knows, I might offer tours, and even lessons eventually.
And once I’m established, I want to take submissions from other local artists.
I want this place to be the safe haven I always longed for. ”
I smile, remembering when we were younger, and how desperate Lana was for an art space.
Yes, school had art classes, and even a small studio, but it was outdated and very focused on certain, specific styles of art.
I’m amazed Lana, with her unique, bright and colorful Caribbean inspired art, ever managed to flourish in such a predominantly white place.
But her talent and passion could never be stamped down -- no matter how many times the school art teacher reprimanded her for being too “individual.”
“It sounds perfect. I’m sure your grandmother would have loved it.”
“She always, always supported me. No matter what, she never let me give up on my dreams. I owe it to her memory, and everything she did to raise me, to make this work. Which is why I plan on renaming the new place Delia’s.”
I glance at Lana and see tears shimmering in her eyes. I wrap my arms around her and kiss her forehead. “I can think of no better name.”
I cup Lana’s cheeks in my hands and brush away her tears with the pad of my thumbs. I incline my head, bringing our lips together, and kiss her slowly. As our mouths move together, I try to tell her through my movements that I’m here, I’ll always be here, and I’ll support her no matter what.
I’m just getting into this kiss, when Lana suddenly pulls away. “Shit. I have to go. I’m sorry, there’s somewhere I need to be.”
She hurries me out of the shop, and quickly looks up. “I’ll call you later.”
“Okay,” I reply, as she gets into her car.
I feel dazed, and a little drunk. My lips still tingle where Lana kissed me.