leans on him. She turns her head to look up at him, although they are almost the same height because she is wearing stilettos.
They aren’t doing anything, really. They don’t have their arms around each other. They aren’t holding hands. But I feel like a peeping Tom, even though there’s nothing to see. Like Enrique, I can’t take my eyes off Phoebe. When she leaves his side, Enrique watches her walk, unabashedly rolling his eyes over her body. Her sixty-something-year-old body. Maybe Phoebe’s right about something. Or everything.
Mothers
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Allison standing in the kitchen watching her mother. She looks very sad. No one sees her but me, so I slowly make my way to her. When she sees me coming, Allison turns and disappears into the kitchen. I follow her.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
Allison nods, then shakes her head. “She’s acting like a fool. What is she thinking? That man is twenty years younger than she is.”
“But he makes her happy. You said that about Mom and Sid. Remember?”
Allison frowns. “I understand now. What makes you upset about Sid. It’s not who he is. It’s who he isn’t. Your father.”
“Yeah,” I say. “I guess that’s what it is.”
Allison puts her hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry I didn’t understand.”
“It’s okay. Let’s blame our mothers.”
“Sounds good to me,” Allison says with a smile.
I Believe in Love
Aaron Schein is waiting for me at Café Louis. As the servers set up the restaurant for dinner, Aaron talks with Bette at the counter. I smile at them. “That’s a dreamy look,” Bette says.
Sitting on a stool, I say, “I just met a very handsome man.”
“Who?” Bette and Aaron say.
“Enrique,” I say. “He’s tall and dark and mysterious.”
“Go on,” Bette says.
“He was just so…passionate. Like he believes in love.”
“And?” Aaron is unimpressed.
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“What wouldn’t I understand?” Aaron says.
“Passion.”
“I understand passion,” Aaron insists. “I’m all about passion.”
Bette raises her eyebrows and drifts to the other end of the counter. I smile at Aaron, but the passion between Phoebe and Enrique has me thinking about Farmer Joe and his passion for farming, the ocean, his guitar, and me. “What are you passionate about, Aaron? What do you believe in?”
“Lots of things.”
“Tell me.”
Aaron thinks for a few minutes, then stands. “I believe in supply-side economics. I believe that Kurt Cobain was a genius. I believe that California wines are just as good as European wines. I believe in two-point conversions. I believe there is intelligent life on other planets. I believe Al Gore won the 2000 election. I believe in stem cell research, but not cloning. I believe William Shakespeare wrote alone. I believe in love. I believe in b’shaert, the fateful meeting of two people who are meant to be together forever. I believe that when you find your soul mate, you love her and cherish her for the rest of your life.”
Aaron finishes his speech, and breathes. “How’s that?”
“Pretty good.” Seriously.
“Good,” Aaron says. “Listen, Christopher says the restaurant will probably have a slow weekend. My sister’s birthday party is this weekend at my family’s house in Avalon. Why don’t you come? What’s a Jersey girl without weekends down the shore? You haven’t had a break all summer.”
That’s not exactly true, is it? I had my Fourth of July fireworks with Farmer Joe on LBI. But Aaron doesn’t need to know about that.
I say, “I’d love to come to Avalon.”
The next morning, I’m surprised to see Mom sitting at the kitchen table. “You look like a woman who used to live here,” I tell her.
Mom doesn’t answer. Her lips are pressed together, and she’s staring at a felt-covered jewelry box. I walk around Mom’s chair and look over her shoulder. She’s staring at a diamond ring. It looks like the engagement ring Dad gave her. Mom stopped wearing it when Dad bought her a channel-set diamond band for their twenty-fifth anniversary. Why is Mom staring at her engagement ring? She must be thinking about Dad.
I put my hand on Mom’s shoulder. “Is that the ring Daddy gave you?”
“No,” Mom says. “It’s the ring Sid gave me.”
The Ring Thing
“Want to see it?” Mom offers me the velvet box.
“No.” I back away from the box as if it is evil.
“It’s a gorgeous ring.” Mom gazes at the ring. “You are very pretty. Yes, you are.”
“Sid asked you to marry him.”
“Yes.” Mom looks at me with a small smile and big eyes. She wants to know what I think. Please, I silently