The blog post had nothing to do with Juliet, obviously. Rather, the majority of the blog post discussed Danica’s friendship with Magnum X, whom Juliet remembered mentioned a few other times. Specifically, Juliet remembered that her daughter had written that Magnum X had a mother who’d also “lost her mind,” and that they didn’t know one another’s real names but recognized one another’s souls, or something. It was teenage drivel.
Now, Danica wrote a fantasy in which she and Magnum X went traveling together—that they met up in Singapore, where Danica was now living (according to her online presence), and then traveled on to the islands of Thailand.
Magnum X rented a motorbike, and we went off to explore the island. My arms around his strong stomach. The wind in my hair. The sun on my face. After the past year I’ve had, it felt delicious. It felt too good to be true! We stopped at a little restaurant, where we drank mango smoothies and watched little Thai boys do tricks with fiery sticks. It looked dangerous! But Magnum X told me that the fire sticks go out in a flash if you don’t carry them right. Sometimes I feel so naive, out in the world for the first time. I’m only fifteen! But I’m ready to grow up. I’m ready to learn. Magnum X says I’m ready, too. Cheers from Thailand. We love you!
Juliet groaned, blackened her phone, and let her head rest against the boulder. She imagined her daughter alone in her bedroom, reading and rereading her own blog, smiling as the comments came in, asking questions about her “romance” with Magnum X, asking about Thailand. Juliet knew her daughter lived in fantasy worlds, just as Juliet once had.
Juliet never wanted to demand that her daughter return to planet Earth. It wasn’t so nice here for a teenager with dreams. Juliet knew that better than most.
19
For a full day after hitting Juliet with the kitchen door, Theo moved through the world in a state of shock. Their argument, as strange as it had been, had activated something in him. It had drawn him back through time, demanding more of his heart and his memories than he cared to admit.
When, the day after Juliet’s accident, Theo had a surprise lunch rush, he nearly wasn’t ready for it. There were four tables with fifteen guests in total, and he nearly ran himself ragged, operating five different skillets, melting cheese on burgers, and stirring up cocktail after cocktail. The guests, all of whom were from out of town, laughed at him, their faces bright from sunburns they’d gotten on the water.
“You don’t have anyone to help you?” one of the guys asked, guffawing. “You ought to get some staff around here, my man!”
Theo laughed and said he’d let his only staff member off the hook today. “It’s such a beautiful day, I felt guilty keeping her inside,” he lied.
Of course, the guests were sort of miffed about Theo’s lack of menu, about his disorganization, and about how messy his restaurant was. But as soon as he brought food out to their tables, as soon as they’d tasted what he’d made, all their confusion fell away. Like anyone else who’d ever tasted Theo’s food, they suddenly got his artistry. They got what he was trying to do.
“Have you considered, um,” one of the women said, wiping her mouth of sauce. “Have you considered fixing this place up a little bit?” She winced, as though she didn’t want to hurt his feelings. But it was impossible to, at this point.
“It should be busier than busy!” her husband said brightly. “It should be on the cover of every magazine about Maine!”
“I don’t know about that.” Theo blushed. He did his best to be personable, to converse with these out-of-towners in a way that would, hopefully, make them tell their friends about his restaurant. (Of course, by the time friends of theirs came to Bluebell Cove next summer, he imagined that there wouldn’t be a restaurant for them to come to.)
All at once, after scraping their plates clean and finishing their cocktails and glasses of afternoon wine, the four tables moved on for other Bluebell Cove activities: kayaking and swimming, snacking and sunning. They waved goodbye and sang, “See you soon, I hope!” They left Theo with dirty tables, dirty plates, and so much to do. He was grateful for something to keep him occupied, anything that helped him to forget about Juliet.
By dinner time, it was clear that the lunch rush had been a fluke that wouldn’t repeat itself. Theo sat at the bar, staring at a document he’d titled “business plan,” remembering that he needed to get this to Calvin Parish sooner rather than later, if he was going to stay afloat. It stung to remember that Juliet had been hard at work reviving his branding. She pitied him. He didn’t need her pity, nor the pity of anyone else. He needed to find the will to go on.
Just then, the bell over the door jangled. Thinking it was an ordinary guest, Theo turned to find none other than Nellie Strong, sauntering through the door like she already owned the place. She wore an awful smirk and threw her purse on the table nearest the big window. “Theo Maddox,” she said, her voice delicious and sensual. “Long time no see.”
Theo got up from his stool. He was seeing red. The first and last thing he wanted to tell her was to get out of his restaurant, to leave him in peace. But something stopped him.
He was frightened of her. He was frightened of her business prowess, of her unending belief in herself. He was also embarrassed, truly, that he’d wanted to date her so badly for so long. Via text message, he’d told her things about himself and his soul that he wished he could take back.
That was the thing about dating: it put you at the mercy of someone else.
And Nellie had never wanted to protect his heart, nor his business, nor his sense of self. She was always out for herself.
Nellie sat primly at the same table where she’d thrown her purse. She folded her hands on the table and continued to smile at him. Theo felt ice in his stomach.
“Aren’t you going to give me a menu?” Nellie asked. “Or no. That’s right. You don’t have any, do you? You make things up as you go along. You do everything on the fly.” She snapped her fingers, making fun of him.
“Isn’t cooking meant to be a creative act?” Theo asked. He was parroting a conversation they’d had together back in February and March, back when he’d thought they were really connecting.
“Maybe. But these days, I’m giving myself over to the beauty of cash, money flow, you know?” Nellie said. “I’ve heard you’re trying to do the same? Some kind of business plan for the city? Some kind of loan?”
It was impossible to know how Nellie had learned about the business plan and about the potential loan. Maybe she’d inquired about the property and been given the facts by city council: that they’d much rather give the restaurant to her, as she was a prosperous restaurateur who could fulfill their Christmas Festival expectations. Theo could imagine Nellie and Calvin Parish, chummily laughing about him. Calling him the loser he was.
“Tell you what,” Nellie said, when Theo didn’t say anything else. “Why don’t you make me the very best dinner you possibly can? After that, we can talk about the future of this place.”
It invigorated Theo to think of showing off his skills. Rather than ask her about her preferences, he poured her a glass of wine that he knew suited the food he’d make, and then he burrowed himself in the kitchen, turning the radio on full-blast while he worked. For her, he made an exquisite, juicy chicken and sweet potato hash seasoned with Chilean spices, with a glaze that wrapped the whole thing in a remarkably flavorful bow. He delivered the plate, then remained standing by her table, his arms crossed, till she took the first bite.
As far as he knew, nobody had ever attempted a spice-and-flavor combination like this before. He knew it was going to surprise her. And the look of genuine shock on Nellie’s face as she chewed her first bite thrilled him more than anything. But she was good. She knew to fix her face, to control her emotions. She set down her fork and folded her fingers. “You know you’re good, Theo. You know you’re much better than this restaurant proves you are.”
“I know I’m good,” Theo said darkly. “I don’t need to hear that from you.”
