Christmas in Wine Country (13 page)

“Yes!” Zoe added. “How about Tom?”

“Tom!” Annie echoed, turning to Zoe.

As they discussed the pros and cons of Pete’s friends, Lila turned back to her walnuts. She didn’t want to make a scene, bursting out of the chocolate shop and yelling something like “You’ll be sorry when I’m gone!” But she did want to curl up and have a good cry. That was the problem with people knowing you; they knew you. And they could then make an off-the-cuff remark about your absent father and send you into a night of insomnia wondering why, why you were so utterly alone in the universe? A question best not addressed at 2
AM
in a small apartment by oneself. Deciding she’d waited a respectable time, Lila hung up her apron, got her coat and headed home to make herself a nice, hot bath and have a sing along to some uplifting songs like “Only the Lonely” or “One is the Loneliest Number.” 

Chapter 5: Got My Back Against the Record Machine

In the week following Annie’s chocolate
s
hop psychoanalysis, Lila found herself thinking a lot about Annie’s absent-dad diagnosis. She wasn’t exactly engaging in her typical specialties of brooding or obsessing, but she was turning it over in her mind, examining it at different angles. Tuesday night, curled up with a book, she looked out the window and wondered, “Do I attach to guys I can’t have?” The next day out on a run she reflected that, yes, it certainly appeared that way. The following morning eating a bowl of Greek yogurt and granola so good the Gods surely preferred it to ambrosia she decided, maybe it was time to stop all that?

On Friday, Lila turned 28. The highlight of the day was wearing party hats and eating cupcakes with Annie and Charlotte. Zoe surprised her by presenting her with her own yoga mat to encourage her to “start developing her own practice.” Gram sent her a multi-colored handknit scarf. Her mom sent her a much appreciated $100 check with ‘for your credit card debt’ written in the card. Nothing from her father, of course, but he hadn’t even been there the day she was born.

On Sunday, she was tempted to talk about her dad, or lack thereof, with Gram during their weekly call. But she decided against it. Although they rarely discussed it, she knew Gram already worried plenty about the long-term effects of her absent father on her life. Instead, Lila asked, not for the first time in their relationship, for advice on boys.

They were both curled up on their respective couches—or futon in Lila’s case—on their respective coasts and started, as usual, by comparing the weather. Cape Cod
was covered in another five inches of snow. By March it made even the little kids cranky. Gram paid a local teenager to shovel her walk but by the time he’d showed up it had already iced over.

“You’ve done it right, Lila,” Gram said. “California’s the place to be.”

“I’m sorry I’m not there to help you.” Lila felt the pull of guilt and concern over her Gram, growing older on her own.

“Oh, stop it. You’re right where you’re supposed to be. Now, tell me. How does it feel to be 28?”

“Well, I’m a big girl now,” Lila said. “And I’m thinking of going on a date. Annie wants to set me up with one of Pete’s friends, but I’m not sure how I feel about it. Do you think I should?” That seemed like a more normal question to ask than, ‘Am I a broken, hopeless soul destined to wander the earth alone?’ Lila kept that one to herself, but somehow guessed her Gram got the picture nonetheless.

“What’s the harm in it?” Gram asked. “Pull a comb through that hair of yours, put on a dress. Or some of those jeans you like,” she corrected herself, remembering the era. “And why not tell Annie to make it a double date? If you’re out with Annie and Pete, how bad could it be?”

*
             
*
             
*

Lila unlocked and opened Cover to Cover’s large, heavy front doors with a sense of satisfaction. Godfrey hadn’t earned a key yet and he’d been there much longer. It had only taken Lila two months before Marion trusted her enough to give her the keys to the
kingdom. Either it was trust or Marion had really wanted a few mornings off each week. Either way, Lila was happy to have a couple of quiet hours to herself in the sanctuary of the bookstore to putter around making it neat and tidy and greet the first few customers before storytime at 10:30.

Today was going to be fairy tale day. She’d picked out some oldies but goodies, going on a tangent in doing so by reading the real Grimm Brother versions. Feet were burned off, eyes gouged out; it was a grim world. She’d chosen a few happier, cleaned up versions for the toddlers.

This was her fourth week doing story hour and it was starting to draw some regulars. The moms in town seemed relieved to have another Monday morning option for their kids, especially during the rains. She was thinking of starting one on Saturday mornings, too, to see if she could draw some tourists into the shop. The local moms browsed during storytime and sometimes bought, but tourists—they were paydirt.

Annie and Charlotte would likely be coming; they had yet to miss stories with Auntie Lila. Lila re-arranged the store display table devoted to cookbooks. “Fresh and Local: Bay Area Cooking at Its Best” was now propped front and center and Lila knew she’d be taking a copy home with her tonight for some bedtime reading.

             
Turning at the sound of the front door opening, Lila happily saw Annie and Charlotte coming in, both wearing purple scarves that clearly had been knit from the same yarn. Annie’s mother-in-law liked needlework.

             
“La La!” Charlotte yelled and made a wobbly run over to Lila to give her a big hug. She had her lovey with her, a battered stuffed lamb who liked to sit on Charlotte’s lap while she sat on mom’s lap for stories.

             
“Oh, Charlotte,” Lila greeted her. “Do I have some stories today for you!”

             
“Pupa?” she asked, looking around the store for the good stuff.

             
“Yes, of course,” Lila responded, going to get the basket of hand puppets Charlotte wanted. It turned out that when Lila did storytime she liked to bring puppets into the mix for dramatic effect. She didn’t really know where this inner preschool teacher had come from, but she was going with it. She guessed that once everything you’d been striving toward both personally and professionally crashed and burned it freed you up to start breaking out the puppets.

             
With Charlotte happily sorting through the basket, Lila opened up a small box of books that had just arrived and needed to be entered into their computer as store inventory. Annie settled herself by the front desk and rested her hand in her chin.

“I dreamed about biscotti last night.”

“Mmm.” Lila understood; good biscotti was truly the stuff of dreams.

“We should have a big glass jar of them.”

“Right next to the register. An impulse item.” Lila could see it in their shop.

“And maybe some chocolate-dipped peppermint sticks.”

“A mint and a treat.” As Annie contemplated the array, Lila cleared her throat. “So, I’ve been thinking,” she started. Annie looked at her. “I’m not sure how I feel about this.” Annie tilted her head. “What I’m trying to say is—OK, you can set me up.”

“What?” Annie asked.

“You heard me,” Lila continued, resignation in her voice. “Do your worst. Fix me up with some strapping young man.”

“Yes!” Annie rose her hand for a high-five. “I so did not expect you to say that!”

“One condition,” Lila added, giving Annie’s hand a half-hearted tap. “Double date. You and Pete come too. And nothing fancy. Maybe we can just go to that bar you’ve mentioned.”

“Done,” Annie replied, rubbing her hands together as she began plotting. “But if things are going well, Pete and I might just have to get home to Charlotte.” The twinkle of mischief in her eyes gave Lila pause.   

“Charlotte will be just fine that night,” Lila warned. “I’m sure of it.”

The door opened and two tired-looking moms with three bouncing and chattering toddlers made their way into the store. Lila quelled her sudden urge to yell “positions!” as if preparing for a Broadway play. It was showtime for her and hand puppet crew. 

Eight toddlers rapt and nearly as many moms happily browsing, Lila was in her element acting out the huffing and puffing of the Big Bad Wolf. Annie, however, was acting out. Sitting with Charlotte in her lap, Annie looked like the kid in class who couldn’t wait to get called on, bouncing up and down and waving her hand in the air.
She didn’t exactly have her hand up but she might as well have for all her obvious over-brimming excitement. Lila knew it had to be more than just the story of the three little pigs, even with the hand puppets. Barely had Lila set down the last fairy tale—Rumplestilskin, minus the title character ripping himself in half at the end—when Annie was upon her.

“Bookstore café,” she burst out, as if answering the winning question on a game show.

“Yes, she was a princess,” Lila nodded, answering one of the toddler’s non sequitur questions. “What?” she turned to ask Annie.

“It’s going to be a bookstore café!” Annie repeated. “Our coffee shop! We buy the space next door, tear down the wall and expand into a café. Coffee, books, storytime, it’s perfect!”

“Next door,” Lila repeated, looking over at what was now a wall dividing the bookstore from a newly vacant storefront that used to be a deli. She could see it—the tourists stopping in for a coffee, children enjoying storytime, parents browsing and buying. It could work.

“We’re Barnes and
Noble
with a hometown touch!” Annie continued. “They come in for the coffee—“

“The kids enjoy story time.”

“Parents end up browsing, buying a magazine, some chocolates.”

“It’s good,” Lila agreed, smiling.

“It’s genius,” Annie said, never one to curb her enthusiasm. “It’s the perfect plan.”

*
             
*
             
*

             
Walking across the gravel parking lot from her car to the bar, a light, warm breeze lifted Lila’s hair back from her face. She realized she probably didn’t need the sweater wrap she’d worn pretty much every day the past couple of months. Lila could picture the crocuses in Gram’s front yard beneath the frozen March earth waiting to make their debut. Nothing frozen in Redwood Cove, the muddy earth and ocean air made everything already feel alive.

Deciding against taking off the sweater wrap—she had on a sleeveless tank underneath that suddenly felt revealing as she was about to meet her blind date—Lila grasped the big, brass handle on the door and pulled it open to loud music and laughter. Ted’s was Redwood Cove’s local’s bar, not to be confused with a local bar in Redwood Cove for tourists. There were a few of those, featuring pricy wines and delicacies like raw oysters. Ted’s featured a pool table, a dart board and a jukebox. It had ten round tables, a bunch of stools up at the bar, and neon beer signs in the window. It was where locals went to hang out.

             
Suddenly shy, Lila hesitated at the entryway looking for Annie and Pete. Annie had assured her that they’d be there at 8 so if she arrived around 8:30 there’d be no moment of ‘I’m alone at the bar waiting for my friends.”

             
“Lost?” a guy in a baseball cap asked, holding a beer and approaching her with a grin.

“Woo hoo! Lila!” Annie called out, waving from a table to her left.

Happily making her way over, Lila gave Tom, Pete’s friend, what she hoped was a casual glance. A big guy, plaid shirt, broad shoulders, baseball cap with what looked like sandy hair underneath. Nothing appalling at first glance. 

“Lila-loo!” Annie greeted her, getting up to give her a big hug.

“You made it,” Pete smiled, hand up for a high five. It wasn’t the first time they’d invited her out, but it was the first time she’d shown up.

             
After a very obvious head to toe appraisal, Tom patted the empty chair next to him and said, “Got a seat for you right here.”

             
“Hey,” Lila said a bit shyly, swallowing and tucking a curl behind her ear. Shrugging out of her sweater wrap, she sat down and happily accepted the cold beer Pete handed her. She felt silly to be nervous, but the whole
b
usiness with Phillip had left her confidence as solid as mud.

Plus, she wasn’t wearing her lucky jeans. Earlier that evening she’d discovered that, no longer being a size two, the jeans weren’t having it. The upside of her new, size six body was saying hello again to her long-lost boobs. Apparently the non-surgically enhanced had to make a choice: either curves or super-tiny-skinniness, but not both. 

About an hour and two beers later, Lila found herself listening politely to the latest piece of information that Tom was relaying to her about truck classifications.
             
“See, with your compact pickup you’ll see a separate chassis frame. And a lot of people think that isn’t a big deal. But then they’re out on a rough road and you got your
body.” He made a fist. “And you got your chassis.” Another fist. “See where I’m going with this?”