Nellie laughed. “Why the pride, Theo? You said it yourself. You’d love to go back to manning a market stall. You’d love to return to your love of food and food alone.”
“I was feeling nostalgic, sure. But that doesn’t mean I want to go back,” Theo said.
Nellie refused to respond. She was too focused on her food, digging into the kitchen, assessing the succulence of the meat and the glaze. Often, she had her eyes closed. “It’s not a pretty plate,” she murmured, maybe to herself. “But goodness. What are these spices, Theo?”
Theo, who was now behind the bar, staring at his spreadsheet and daring himself to make a plan, just shook his head. He would not lend Nellie any of his cooking tips or tricks. Not anymore.
When Nellie finished her plate, she drank the rest of her wine, stood, and pressed her business card onto the counter between them. She also paid in cash—trying to give him 30 percent more than he asked for. He shook his head and tried to give the cash back, but she blew him a kiss and said, “I think you need it more than me.” Before he could say anything, she called, “I know you’ll be in touch!” And then, she was gone, headed out to her Mercedes that glinted in the sun in the empty parking lot.
Rage and shame stirred into the perfect tornado in his stomach. The little bits of his food that he’d taste tested during cooking threatened to come up, and he poured himself a glass of water and gave himself a pep talk to calm down.
The business plan on his computer remained blank. His spreadsheet looked dire. And he could feel Nellie, grinning to herself on her drive back to her hometown, where she already owned more restaurants than he could keep track of. She had her eye on Bluebell because it was lucrative and one of the more vibrant tourist spots in the state. Also, Theo guessed, she was angry with him for some reason. Maybe she was lonelier than she let on. Maybe she’d wanted to fall in love with him, just as he’d wanted to fall in love with her. In the absence of feeling that love, she’d decided to destroy him.
It didn’t make a great deal of sense. But, Theo reasoned, humans almost never did.
That last evening at city council, Celia had cornered him with her idea: that Juliet help him with the next phase of his restaurant, that—just as they’d done as kids—they pool their ideas and build The Dockside back up again. She’d given Theo Juliet’s number and told him to call her. Theo hadn’t, but that hadn’t stopped Juliet from coming by anyway. It hadn’t stopped her from, apparently, working hard, building something for him. But why? Why had she done that? Was it guilt about the past? Was it boredom?
Theo clicked his way through his phone to find Juliet’s number, then bit his tongue. There it was: her New York City area code, her New York City phone number, the number she’d assuredly gotten during her years of fame and fortune.
There was something different about her, he knew. Life had trodden over her in a sense, the way it had with him. Curiosity fluttered through him, a curiosity he felt too weak to ignore, and he watched himself call her. If she answered, he had no idea what he would say.
But Juliet’s phone rang and rang and rang, until Theo gave up and set the phone to the side. He figured this was just like Juliet. She’d dipped her toe back into their friendship, if only as a game for herself. Now that she saw he was calling her, she’d probably realized she’d “won” whatever the game was. She was the champion, yet again. She could go back to Manhattan thinking of herself as the queen of Bluebell Cove, the queen of Theo Maddox’s emotions. She could return to the fashion world and let Theo melt from her mind.
Theo was even more ashamed than he’d been after Nellie left. Throwing himself into closing up the restaurant, he scrubbed the kitchen counters and listened to loud, angry rock music and sang all the lyrics at the top of his lungs. When he didn’t remember the words, he made things up on the spot, mostly about how much he hated money and business plans and his anxious, unorganized mind.
But when he packed up his backpack and retrieved his phone from the bar, he read a message from Juliet on the screen.
JULIA: Sorry I missed your call, Theo. I tried you, but I guess you’re not around? Give me a call later, or I can come by the restaurant tomorrow. No trouble. P.S. My nose is fine, haha. But good thing my modeling days are through, huh?
20
The following morning, Juliet was in the kitchen of the rental house, eating a bowl of yogurt with fresh berries that Ivy’s daughter had picked from a bush in the forest. Before her was the business plan she’d made for The Dockside, plus all the branding and marketing material she’d been hyper-focused on. Apparently, she wasn’t done with it yet. Theo had called. She’d been surprised to see Theo’s name on her phone, and she’d been even more surprised when he’d agreed to meet today.
Fear shimmered in her heart, making her wonder if this was a mistake. Maybe she and Theo were meant to stay far apart. Maybe the concoction of their wants and needs were destructive. She’d certainly seen that story play out before. She still hadn’t forgiven herself, nor him.
Danica appeared in the kitchen wearing a long T-shirt and a pair of shorts. She poured herself some orange juice, then sat across from Juliet, looking down at her phone. Juliet was still buzzing with the memory of Danica’s recent blog post, in which she’d fantasized that she and her friend Magnum X were off gallivanting through Asia. Juliet ached to learn who Magnum X was and what his personality was like. But when she’d searched for Magnum X on any of the blogs that Danica followed, she couldn’t find him. Maybe he was just a figment of Danica’s imagination, a reason for her to get up in the morning and continue to write.
When Danica was a little girl, she’d had numerous imaginary friends, so many that Alvin had begun to worry. “What if she grows up into a weird kid?” He’d muttered to Juliet late at night, his eyes narrow. Juliet had told him that it was impossible, that Juliet and Alvin were normal Manhattanites with good jobs. Their daughter had to be normal and successful, too. But everything had changed after the divorce.
What could Alvin’s abandonment do to Danica’s personality? What could it do to the hole in her heart, save for widen it?
“I’m headed back to The Dockside today,” Juliet said gently. It was her private hope that slowly but surely opening up to her daughter would guide Danica to open up to her.
Danica widened her eyes. “Stay out of the way of that kitchen door.”
Juliet laughed, surprised. Danica smiled.
“No, but seriously. He wasn’t respectful of your work last time,” Danica said, speaking like a much older and more sophisticated woman. “Why are you giving him more of your time?”
Juliet hesitated. How could she explain the truth to her daughter? That Theo was an essential part of her past. That she still had sweaty nightmares about the last horrible night they’d spent together as teenagers. That she still ached with regret.
“I think we have unfinished business with each other,” Juliet said simply, shrugging. “I thought moving to the city would negate all that, but I guess it didn’t.”
Danica looked thoughtful. She sipped the rest of her juice but said nothing. Juliet wondered if Danica allowed her mother any sense of inner life. Juliet couldn’t begin to fathom what a daughter-mother relationship was meant to be like. She’d lost hers at age five.
After Danica went back to her room, Juliet walked back to The Dockside, her heart pounding so hard that she had to stop frequently and catch her breath. When she reached the restaurant, she walked in, glancing at her reflection in the glass of the door to see the faintest blue bruise on her nose. Ivy had said it wasn’t as bad as it could have been, all because of the ice she’d used to save it.
Leaning on her older sisters was a brand-new thing for Juliet. But already, she was discovering how worthwhile it was. Already, she was discovering the sturdiness it brought.
