Coffee Sonata, page 7
Out on the sidewalk, Manon stopped and turned to Eryn. “Can I give you a ride?” She motioned toward the limousine parked nearby.
“No, I’m fine. I’m off to a photo shoot just around the corner. Thanks anyway.”
Manon squeezed Eryn’s hand firmly. “See you tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow,” Eryn repeated. Her heart fluttered, and she recognized the weakness in her knees for what it meant. She was attracted to Manon Belmont.
*
Something cold and wet nudged Vivian’s cheek. Drowsy, she fumbled as she ruffled soft dog ears. “Hello, you. Good boy. Where’s your brother?” she whispered. Squinting, she made out Mason’s shape, but recognized him from the way he whimpered. He sat down and wagged his tail, thumping it on the hardwood floor. “Perry’s sleeping, as usual?”
As Vivian started to get up, a sudden, yet familiar, pain stabbed the back of her eyes. She blinked against the light filtering through the half-closed shades but saw only unrecognizable shifting patterns. Reaching for her anesthetic eyedrops, she accidentally knocked the bottle off the bedside table.
“Blasted thing,” she murmured, and sat up. “Mason, move. I have to…” She jerked the cord that pulled the blinds back completely and let the stinging sunlight in; tears began to stream down her cheeks. When she shifted carefully and tried to see where the small bottle had gone, the burning pain behind her eyeballs made her bite her lip to stifle a moan.
The phone rang, making her flinch. As she felt around for the receiver, she sent the sunglasses lying next to it to the floor with a clatter.
“Hello?”
“Vivian, this is Mike—”
“Mike. I really can’t talk now. I have to…” She gave a muted moan. “I’m in the middle of something. Can I call you back?” I sound like a perfect wimp!
“What’s wrong? You sound terrible.”
“It’s just…I need to use my medication and managed to knock it over.” Vivian knew the pain was evident in her voice despite her best efforts to remain calm. She slid down on the floor next to the bed and felt around with her free hand. “Merde, I can’t find it!”
“Don’t worry. The lunch crowd’s gone and I’ll come right over. I’ll be right there.” With a distinct click Mike hung up.
As Vivian held her hands over her eyes and tried to block the painful light, Mason whimpered. Then Perry loped into the bedroom and yelped. He licked her cheek and sat down next to her.
“Oh, boys.” She sighed. “I’m such a klutz. Where the hell is the stupid bottle?” She felt around with one hand. “Surely it didn’t roll very far. Maybe it’s under the bed.” She bent down to half crawl under the bed, but lowering her head only made the pain worse. Cursing under her breath, Vivian sat back up and leaned against the side of the bed. The floor was cold and she began to shiver.
She tugged at the covers behind her and, with Mason’s boisterous aid, pulled them down to wrap around her. She felt utterly vulnerable and silly where she sat, with her head tilted back, cheeks cold from her drying tears. “Mike said she was coming. She can help me look for the stupid bottle, isn’t that right, boys?”
The dogs woofed in response, making Vivian feel marginally comforted as she waited for Mike.
*
It seemed like forever, but Mike arrived at the beach house in only eleven minutes. Gasping for air, she banged on the door. When nobody answered, she ran to the back of the house and tried again at the glass doors she figured led into the master bedroom. “Vivian?” She listened for a response through the loud barking inside.
“The door’s locked and I can’t move yet,” a barely recognizable voice finally called. “There’s a spare key…under the rocks to the left of the front door.”
“Okay, I hear you.” Mike rushed back around front and dug under a display of decorative rocks and plants. Eventually finding a blue key, she grabbed it and opened the door. One of the dogs, she thought it was Perry, greeted her with a wagging tail.
“Vivian?”
“In here.” The overwrought voice led her to a disheveled bedroom. Vivian sat on the floor, huddled under some bedcovers.
“Are you hurt?” Mike said anxiously.
“No. I just…I just need my medication.”
“First of all, let’s get you off the floor. Here we go.” Mike slid her arms around Vivian to help her up. When she felt Vivian tremble she pulled her close and stroked her back. “Here. Into bed now.”
Once Vivian was comfortably settled against the pillows, Mike took in the pained expression on her face with alarm. Vivian’s eyes were pressed shut and her cheeks tear stained. “Tell me what’s going on. What do you need?”
“My medication is somewhere on the floor…but I can’t find it,” Vivian gasped, obviously trying to stay calm. “Maybe under the bed.”
Mike knelt and looked underneath but couldn’t see anything. Putting one cheek on the floor and peeking under the bedside table, she spotted a small white item. She sat up and pressed her shoulder against the sturdy table, moving it just enough to be able to reach the bottle. She handed it to Vivian. “You couldn’t have reached it on your own. Your eyes are blurry, aren’t they?”
“Yes,” Vivian whispered. Her hands trembled as she gave the bottle back to Mike. “Can you help me? Normally I can do this on my own, but I’m in rather a lot of pain—”
“Of course.” Mike unscrewed the top of the bottle and found an eyedropper. “How many drops?”
“Two in each eye.” Vivian’s voice was barely audible.
Mike leaned over Vivian. “Try to look up.”
Vivian opened her eyes slowly, clearly wincing when the light and air hit her cornea. Quickly but carefully, Mike took the eyedropper and administered two drops in each eye. “Okay. You can shut your eyes again, I think.”
After Mike sealed the bottle and placed it on the nightstand, she remained nearer than necessary, telling herself it was because Vivian was even paler now. Her long hair, usually so neatly contained in a twist, lay tangled around her shoulders, reaching almost below her breasts. “Better?”
“In a minute or two.” Vivian sighed. “I want to rub my eyes, but that’s strictly forbidden.”
Mike thought she saw Vivian shiver. “Are you still cold?”
When Vivian nodded, Mike reached for a white comforter lying on the foot of the bed and wrapped it around her. “There you go.”
“Oh, God, that feels a lot better.” Vivian sighed again, her eyes still closed. “I guess I don’t have to tell you that today is a particularly bad day.”
“I can see that for myself.”
“I left rehearsals early. Right after Manon Belmont paid a visit. I hate canceling rehearsals but I just couldn’t go on.” The dismay was obvious in Vivian’s voice. A deep blue cashmere sweater hugged her above black slacks.
“What’s wrong, Vivian? It’s something with your eyes, right?”
“Yes. I won’t go into any boring details, but I’m pretty dependent on my medication. When the eyedrops start to work, I’ll have to take a battery of pills. Then I’m fine. I have to go back within the hour because I have to rehearse with a children’s choir this afternoon.” She opened her eyes slowly and blinked a few times before focusing on Mike. “Good Lord, you must have a million things to take care of at the café. And here you are looking after me. You should go back.”
“Don’t even think about it. I asked Martha and Edward to hold down the fort. I’ll help them later.” Mike hesitated, but couldn’t resist pushing the hair back from Vivian’s forehead. “Are you sure you’re okay? You look exhausted.”
Vivian sat up straighter and smiled with obvious effort. “I’ll be fine.”
Taking in Vivian’s high cheekbones, her full lips, and the way her sweater clung to her form, Mike realized that Vivian Harding was probably the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. Something forbidden, at least for her, constricted her throat and made it difficult to swallow.
Shaken, Mike recoiled. Her mind whirled in response to her body’s red alert.
It’s the way she looks. Fragile and helpless right now. I can’t forget that these things tend to change, and fast. The fragile become the furious. As she rose she willed herself not to reveal her apprehension.
“Can I do anything else, Vivian? Make you some coffee or a snack?” She was backtracking while she spoke, eventually standing in the doorway, and felt her cheeks burn as Vivian shook her head.
“No, thank you, cara.”
The term of endearment hung between them, testing the last straw of Mike’s resolve. She took two more quick steps backward. “All right. I’ll be off, then. See you at the café later today? We serve great pies for the after-work crowd.” Mike knew she was babbling. She wanted to see Vivian later, but in a more…secure setting. This gorgeous woman’s bedroom wasn’t a safe place.
When Vivian swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood up, slightly wobbly, Mike resisted the urge to rush to her side.
“I’ll be there after rehearsal. Around five thirty or six.” Walking up to Mike, Vivian smiled. “I can’t thank you enough. May I impose on you by asking you to promise me something?”
Mike nodded, already guessing. “You want me to keep your eye problems a secret.”
“Mind reader. That’s exactly it. I won’t be able to hide anything much longer, but for now, before the concert, I need to keep my condition confidential. Thank you for understanding.”
Mike clasped her restless hands behind her back, though all she really wanted was to hug Vivian. I’m never this mushy. What’s the matter with me? “I never gossip,” she said, knowing she sounded short.
“Somehow I’m not surprised to hear that.”
“I’ll let myself out.” As Mike walked toward the door, a cold nose against the back of her knee made her jump. “Hey, Perry, or Mason, cut it out.” She smiled as the two dogs followed her to the door. “See you later, guys. Keep an eye on her, okay?”
The low woofs sounded enthusiastic but did little to alleviate Mike’s concern.
Chapter Seven
Manon parked her British racing green Lotus Elite at the far end of the nearly full parking lot.
Donning her sunglasses, she glanced around the marina at the people readying their boats for winter. She walked to the pier and saw an unpainted wooden building, its cast-iron sign swinging in the breeze. “Sea Stone Café,” Manon murmured, half smiling at her old habit of talking to herself. “Appropriate.”
“Manon!” Eryn’s eager, slightly out-of-breath voice made Manon whirl. Dressed in black leather, the outfit hugging every curve, Eryn approached in long, energetic strides, her braid, deep red in the setting sun, swinging behind her. She carried a red helmet under her arm, and the strap across her chest led down to her by now trademark leather bag.
“I saw you drive up. What a car!” She grinned. “You travel in style, Belmont.”
Manon returned the infectious smile. “I’m a sports-car aficionado.”
“Me too, but I still drive an old Volvo when it’s too cold to ride the Yamaha.” Eryn scowled.
“Nothing wrong with that.”
“Only if the Volvo’s a 1982 station wagon.”
“Oh, a vintage car.”
“Try a dying car.” Eryn sighed. “I doubt it’ll last another winter.” Peeking through the café windows, she waved for Manon to follow. “The place is packed. I was afraid of that, so I called ahead. Let’s see if Mike managed to save us a table.”
Inside, Manon was struck by the warm ambience. Traditional red-and-white plaid tablecloths covered rustic tables, and a roaring fire cast a cozy glow, creating patterns on the dark paneled walls. A bar outlined the entire length of the inner wall, and the counter shone.
“Eryn, good to see you.” A dark-haired woman appeared, carrying a tray of sparkling glasses. “It’s been too long. How are you doing?”
“Fine, thanks. This is my friend and neighbor, Manon. Manon, this is the owner, Michaela, or Mike.”
“Nice to meet you, Manon.” Mike put the tray down on the counter, wiped her hands on a towel hanging from her black apron, and smiled cautiously. “Your table’s over there.” Mike pointed toward the corner where two walls of windows met. “It’s got a great view of the marina.”
“Mike. It’s a pleasure.” As they shook hands, Manon began to realize where she’d encountered Mike Stone, but she merely said, “Thank you for saving us a table.”
“Awesome.” Eryn grinned. “Thanks for the VIP treatment.”
“Don’t mention it.” Mike’s dark eyes lit up. “Come with me.”
Mike led them among the tables, and Manon noticed that she moved with the grace and control of an athlete. Though she attracted the attention of more than a few men, she didn’t even glance in their direction.
When they reached the corner table, Mike removed the Reserved sign and pulled out the chairs. “There you go, ladies. What can I get you to drink?”
“Since I’ve heard great things about your coffee, I’ll have a latte, please.” Manon felt her stomach growl and reached for a menu.
“Same here.” Eryn opened one as well.
“Two lattes, then. Take your time. I’ll be right back.”
Manon watched Mike hurry away. “Nice woman, and rather different.” She turned her attention back to Eryn.
“Yes. She stands out in a crowd. Kinda dark and edgy, if you know what I mean.”
“Dark and edgy? Is she Goth?”
Eryn’s eyebrows flew up. “I don’t think so. How would someone like you know about Goth people?”
“What do you mean, someone like me?” Manon frowned.
“Well, you must admit, you travel in slightly different circles.”
“A lot of different people come by the foundation office. I usually find them interesting. Talking with them is a welcome change from the rigid, formal functions I have to attend on a regular basis.”
“I didn’t mean to suggest—”
“I know you didn’t.” Without thinking, Manon placed her hand on top of Eryn’s to reassure her. God. Pull your hand back. Now.
Eryn leaned forward, turned her hand palm up under Manon’s, and squeezed it. “Do you get that a lot?”
“What?” Manon felt her fingers tingle from Eryn’s firm touch. Pull back.
“The poor-little-rich-girl-she-knows-very-little-about-life-in-the-real-world routine from people.” She grimaced. “That’s how I sounded. I’m sorry.”
“I used to get that,” Manon said, and managed to slowly pull her hand free. Pleased with Eryn’s intuition, she grabbed the menu and opened it just to occupy her hands. “It’s a rather sore spot.”
“Your lattes, ladies.” Mike interrupted the awkward moment. “Have you decided on anything to eat?”
“What do you recommend?” Manon looked up.
“The ham and tomato quiche. And it comes with a salad.”
“Then I’ll have that and some mineral water.”
“I’ll have the spinach crepes,” Eryn said. “And water too.”
“Sure. Until then, enjoy the coffee.”
Manon sipped and then sighed in pleasure. It tasted as wonderful as it smelled.
“That good, huh?” Eryn grinned. “I told you.” She sampled hers. “Very, very good.”
She had a dreamy expression on her face, and for a moment Manon could easily envision her as a character out of a Shakespeare play. A female Puck perhaps, or… Quit that. Say something.
“I’ve been coffee deprived all day.” Nervous, Manon drank too quickly, and hot coffee flooded her throat. She coughed, reached for her napkin, and pressed it to her mouth as she tried not to wheeze.
“Are you all right?” Eryn was halfway out of her chair. “Do you need anything?”
“No, no,” Manon croaked. “I’m fine.” Finally catching her breath, she wiped annoying tears from the corner of her eyes. “I just swallowed wrong.”
Eryn gave her a doubtful look but didn’t persist. Her eyes lit up as she glanced around the room. “Hey, look over there! Your good friend and our favorite mezzo-soprano just walked in.”
“Vivian’s here too?” Manon turned around. “This must be the place to go.” This time sipping her coffee with great care, she asked, “Unless she’s meeting someone, would you mind if she joined us?”
“Not at all. I’d like to get to know her better.”
Manon waved Vivian over and thought she detected a relieved expression on her friend’s face.
“Manon, so nice to run into you.”
“Why don’t you join us? It’s crowded tonight.”
“I just popped in for some coffee at the bar, but if you don’t mind, I’d rather sit here.”
“You’ve met Eryn Goddard.” Manon gestured, not quite liking how her voice became deeper and more intense when she spoke Eryn’s name.
“Yes. The press conference. Thank you for writing such a lovely piece in the Sunday paper, Ms. Goddard,” Vivian said as she sat down. “It was so much better than what that impertinent woman from the Boston Phoenix did. I honestly couldn’t tell if the two of you were at the same press conference.”
Manon noticed Eryn’s cheeks turn pink, enhancing her freckles. She looked cute fiddling with her utensils to cover up her discomfort. Not only capable but modest. That’s a refreshing change from most reporters.
“Thank you,” Eryn murmured, sounding more pleased than embarrassed. “I’m glad you liked it. What’s really important, though, is that I convinced my editor to run an ad on the first page every day for the next few weeks, telling people where to send their money for the hospital wing.”
Manon’s heart warmed, shattering a few old icicles. As she and Eryn gazed at each other, she felt an instant of silent communication. It was unexpectedly welcome. She only looked away when Mike approached the table.
“Hello, Vivian. I see you’ve found some company,” Mike said. “How about a latte and some of that salad you like?”
Manon thought it was unusual for her friend to let Mike in so quickly. Vivian was a private woman. She must feel lonely.
