California Summer Read online

  “I wanted to set a good example.” Estelle’s brown eyes sparkled mischievously. “But I keep a box of Dunkin’ Donuts in the bottom drawer of the pantry.”

  “Dad, is she telling the truth?” Angelica turned to her father.

  “Your mother has hidden talents and desires.” Oscar smiled affectionately. “She’s on the verge of inventing a new rose.”

  “That’s fascinating.” Dirk beamed. “I spent a lot of time at Vita Sackville-West’s garden at Sissinghurst when I was performing at the Old Vic.”

  “I haven’t invented a rose,” Estelle scoffed. “I’m experimenting with a couple of varieties. I want a perfect peach rose, it would look so pretty in the drawing room.”

  Rosie listened to the conversation as if it was a symphony. The voices rose and fell; Estelle laughed, Angelica giggled, Oscar’s voice boomed like a drum. Even Dirk chimed in now and then, reeling off facts about British theater. Rosie felt herself shrinking against the fireplace. There was nothing she could add to the discussion. She didn’t want to talk about Hollywood and she didn’t know anything else.

  “What do you think of Montecito village?” Estelle turned to Rosie. “Morris said you did some shopping.”

  “It’s like a stage set. The storefronts are quaint and the sidewalks are perfectly scrubbed,” Rosie said, and bit her tongue. She’d have to stop thinking in Hollywood lingo. “I ate at a diner that looked straight out of Grease.”

  “Sam’s Shake Shack?” Angelica inquired. “We used to get milk shakes there after school.”

  “I ordered a lemonade, but Josh’s chocolate shake looked delicious.”

  “Josh?” Estelle asked curiously.

  “The guy who takes care of Oscar’s car collection. We are sort of friends. I ran over his surfboard the day I arrived.” Rosie blushed.

  “Josh Fellows is still here!” Angelica exclaimed, tracing the rim of her wineglass.

  “Josh is a good worker,” Oscar broke in. “He treats my cars like priceless works of art.”

  “I thought he’d have moved on by now.” Angelica shrugged and fiddled with her wineglass. “No one stays in Montecito their whole life.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with staying in Montecito. I was born in this house.” Estelle gave Angelica a sharp look.

  “You’re different, Mother,” Angelica said patiently. “You’re a Montecito institution. You have a gorgeous estate and award-winning roses. Josh stayed in Santa Barbara for college.”

  “How long have you known Josh?” Rosie turned to Angelica, curious why she had never mentioned him.

  “He started working for Daddy when I was a freshman at USC,” Angelica remembered. “I teased him that he was the only mechanic I knew who was born and raised in Montecito.”

  “Angelica,” Estelle said pointedly over her wineglass. “There’s nothing wrong with being a mechanic or a chauffeur if you love cars.”

  “Daddy, I’m sorry. I always forget your father was the chauffeur.” Angelica blushed and looked at her father. “Gosh, I’m hungry. Can we take this conversation into the dining room?”

  “Daddy and I are very proud of your success as an actress,” Estelle continued tersely. “But we would be proud of anything you did if it made you happy.”

  “Okay, Mom, I understand.” Angelica dropped her eyes to the floor. “Peg made Yorkshire pudding, let’s eat.”

  Oscar led the party into the dining room and took his seat at the head of the table. Rosie was placed beside Dirk, and Angelica sat across from him. Rosie kept glancing at Angelica, wanting to drag her into the kitchen and talk about last night. She felt like she was in a play production of Remains of the Day and she didn’t know how to get her best friend off the stage.

  Morris served stuffed Cornish hens and glazed yams. There was Yorkshire pudding and raspberry pie with whipped cream. Rosie noticed Morris’ British accent was more pronounced and he bowed every time he approached the table.

  “What’s your Fourth of July theme this year, Mother?” Angelica ate a forkful of pie. “I’ve told Dirk about your legendary parties: tennis matches and croquet on the lawn and music that plays all night.”

  The Yorkshire pudding stuck in Rosie’s throat. She had pictured being with Ben on July 4th. She would wear her new red dress and gold Manolo sandals. Now she dreaded seeing him. What if he brought Mary Beth to Montecito and she ran into them in the village. And she couldn’t bear listening to Ben talk about his and Mary Beth’s new production company. It was better if she skipped the party altogether.

  “It’s going to be 1920s theme,” Estelle said excitedly. “We’re going to have a sixteen-piece band that plays Cole Porter and Louis Armstrong. Men will wear white tie and tails and women will wear those wonderful flapper dresses. I thought about hiring a juggler and maybe even a fortune-teller. It always makes people feel good to believe they have wonderful events coming in their future.”

  “You should ask Rosie to make her fish tacos,” Angelica suggested.

  “I couldn’t cook for so many people,” Rosie protested. “I haven’t made the recipe in years.”

  “Of course you could if you wanted to. It would be fun,” Estelle said to Rosie. “Peg can help you.”

  “Actually, I wasn’t sure I’d go to the party,” Rosie confessed, examining her fork. “You and Oscar will be so busy with your guests, I don’t want you worrying if I’m having fun. I might stay in the cottage or there’s a play at the Montecito Playhouse starring some actors I know. Maybe I’ll go see it.”

  She had seen a flyer in the village, but she never considered seeing a show. But anything would be better than standing on the lawn with a cocktail and watching Ben’s eyes light up if someone mentioned he was going to direct To Catch a Thief.

  “You didn’t want to have anything to do with local theater,” Angelica reminded her. “Or is it a date? Are you going with Josh?”

  “Josh and I are just friends,” Rosie snapped. She put her fork down and took a gulp of wine.

  “He is cute, if you’re attracted to blond surfer types,” Angelica said casually.

  “I’m not attracted to anyone.” Rosie glared at Angelica. “I just thought it might be a good idea. I don’t want to be a burden and you’re the one who said I should get involved in local theater.”

  “Don’t be silly. We don’t expect you to be the life of the party, but you must meet all our friends. And you can see a play anytime,” Estelle said severely. “All of Oscar’s wonderful music people will be there. You’ll meet Ryan Addams and Colby Young.”

  “Colby Young! Well, that is great news. He’s my favorite artist.” Angelica beamed. “We can’t wait.”

  * * *

  Rosie sat silently at the dining room table while Morris served coffee. Suddenly tears sprang to her eyes. For the last week she had felt at home, but with Angelica and Dirk in the house, she was reminded she was a visitor. Angelica told her parents tales from pre-production of The Philadelphia Story; they talked about her brother, Sam, in Vermont, and their Irish setters, Rollo and Portia.

  “Rosie,” Estelle said when everyone finished their coffee. “Will you join me in the library, I want to show you something.”

  Angelica and Dirk went with Oscar to the garage to see his classic car collection. Rosie followed Estelle to a room with paneled walls and thick oriental rugs. A piano stood in one corner and two velvet armchairs faced the fireplace.

  “You didn’t look very happy at dinner,” Estelle began, pouring two shots of cognac and handing one to Rosie.

  “It’s great to see Angelica,” Rosie replied brightly. She took the cognac and stared at the amber liquid.

  “Angelica told me about her dinner with Ben at the Beverly Wilshire,” Estelle began.

  Rosie glanced at Estelle, trying to keep her voice steady. “You mean the dinner with Ben and Mary Beth, the head of his new production company.”

  “I think it’s time to immerse yourself in something new,” Estelle continued, sipping her cognac.


  “I am thinking.” Rosie sighed. “I sat at the beach all day trying to figure out what to do.”

  “And?” Estelle perched on a velvet ottoman.

  “Dog walker, telemarketer, children’s party planner.” Rosie slumped into an armchair opposite her. “Josh suggested I open a fish taco stand.”

  Estelle studied the flower arrangement on the piano. “A fish taco stand! That’s very interesting. Not a stand, that’s tacky, but a proper shop in the village.”

  “I could never do that. I’m not a chef.” Rosie shook her head.

  “Nonsense, don’t say never. Angelica raved about your tacos. Even Morris said they were delicious. I’ve always thought owning one’s own shop would be great fun.”

  “I wouldn’t know where to start. I haven’t done anything like that,” Rosie argued.

  “It can’t be harder than running a movie set,” Estelle suggested. “It would be a wonderful way to channel your energy.”

  “You mean it would be a way to stop thinking about Ben.” Rosie grimaced.

  “I know you don’t want to go back to Hollywood.” Estelle crossed to the window and looked out on the lawn. It was dark and the outdoor lights glimmered like fireflies. “I like having you here in Montecito. I’d be sad if you left.”

  “I’m just in Montecito for the summer,” Rosie reminded her.

  “You can stay in the cottage as long as you like.” Estelle turned to Rosie. “But you need to occupy yourself, and you need to do something you love.”

  “I met a young woman who owns a chocolate shop,” Rosie ruminated. “I could ask her how she got started.”

  “Gold’s Chocolates?” Estelle inquired. “I adore her chocolate truffles. If you open a store, I’ll be your first customer and I’ll bring my garden club.”

  “I should go find Angelica.” Rosie stood up. She wasn’t ready to start planning a new venture. “I haven’t been able to drag her away from Dirk all night.”

  “They do seem quite attached,” Estelle said meditatively. “I really do think a fish taco store is a good idea. I can picture it: ROSIE’S FISH TACOS in red and white letters.”

  “I’ll think about it,” Rosie promised. “You wanted to show me something?”

  Estelle smiled like a cat basking in the sun. “I did.”

  * * *

  Rosie walked towards the garage. The farther she got from the library the more far-fetched Estelle’s idea seemed. Rosie didn’t know anything about running a store.

  But she pictured the village of Montecito, the cobblestone streets and the oak trees hanging into the middle of the road. She would wear a red-and-white apron and there would be a line of sunburned tourists at the counter. When the shop closed she’d chat with the other shopkeepers, and when she went home she’d be too tired to think about Ben.

  “There you are!” Angelica exclaimed as Rosie opened the garage door. “You keep disappearing.”

  “Your mother wanted to show me something,” Rosie explained.

  “Let’s get out of here. Daddy has a 1963 Aston Martin Dirk is crazy about.” Angelica strode towards the porch. “If he calls the car ‘darling’ one more time I’ll be jealous.”

  Rosie followed Angelica to the back porch and they sat on a swing facing the lake. Crickets chirped in the dark and the stars were diamonds on a bolt of black velvet. The sprinklers came on and filled the air with a soft, white noise.

  “I’m sorry I ran off last night,” Rosie said, breathing in the scent of damp grass and flowers.

  “I didn’t mean to drop the atom bomb about Ben and Mary Beth,” Angelica answered and leaned back in the swing.

  “Ben seemed so happy to hear from me when I called him the other day.” Rosie remembered his voice on the phone when she invited him to the party.

  “I’m sure he was happy to hear from you. He has always loved you, Rosie, he just can’t see straight.” Angelica adjusted the ruffles on her blouse. “He’s moving so fast climbing the Hollywood ladder. He’s like a racehorse with blinders on.”

  “I don’t want to think about Ben now.” Rosie swung her legs in front of her. “I’m sorry I ragged on you about Dirk. He might be the greatest British export since Smarties.”

  “Dirk is gorgeous,” Angelica giggled. “Sometimes I just want to sit and stare at his profile.”

  “He does look like Ewan McGregor,” Rosie admitted. “And that cleft on his chin is dreamy.”

  “And he’s so sophisticated,” Angelica continued. “Matthew’s idea of dressing up was putting on a clean t-shirt. Dirk wears linen blazers and shoes with tassels.”

  “Ben always wore the same pair of loafers,” Rosie remembered. “He probably has a whole wardrobe of shoes now made of every kind of reptile.”

  “Rosie, you have to stop.”

  “I know you’re right. I told you I didn’t want to think about him.” Rosie nodded. “I considered going to BA.”

  “BA?” Angelica asked.

  “Ben Anonymous,” Rosie joked. “Estelle wants me to decide what I’m going to do next and she’s right; limbo is lonely.”

  “Dirk’s place has an extra bedroom,” Angelica offered. “It’s the size of a broom closet, but it’s yours if you want it.”

  “I’m actually considering not going back to LA.” Rosie leaned back against the cushions.

  “What are you talking about?” Angelica rocked back and forth on the swing. “Of course you’re coming back! Los Angeles is a big city and Ben is one guy. You’ll meet a new man the first night we go for cocktails at Chateau Marmont.”

  “I don’t want to meet someone new,” Rosie insisted. “And I don’t want to work at a production company.”

  “What else would you do?” Angelica asked.

  “Josh suggested I open a fish taco shop,” Rosie said tentatively. “Your mother thought it was a good idea.”

  “In Montecito?” Angelica raised her eyebrows.

  “Why not?” Rosie answered more stridently than she felt. “Estelle said I could stay in the cottage. There’s plenty of money in our joint account. I could lease a space in the village, serve fish tacos, maybe lemonade and fruit drinks.”

  “Open a store in Santa Monica until you find a new film project,” Angelica suggested. “Set it up and have some struggling actor run it when you go back to the studio.”

  “I don’t want to hang out in Santa Monica or Venice or West Hollywood,” Rosie insisted. “I like Montecito. Butterfly Beach is so peaceful: I’m not afraid of being run over by skateboarders or people on rollerblades, it’s just waves and sand.”

  “You’re thirty not fifty!” Angelica exclaimed. “You’ll never meet anyone to date here. The tourists come in pairs and the men who live here have wives who’d demand big alimony if they got divorced.”

  “I’m not looking for a boyfriend or a husband,” Rosie said, the idea of a fish taco shop becoming more real. She could smell cod sizzling on an industrial stove and see tacos wrapped in silver paper with her name scrawled in red letters.

  “You’re going to sink your time and money into tacos,” Angelica challenged her. “All you’ll end up with are calluses on your hands and the smell of fish in your clothes.”

  “I’ll wear perfume,” Rosie suggested. “And I’ll lather my hands with skin cream at night.”

  “You promise you won’t start wearing surfer t-shirts and flip-flops all the time?”

  “Scout’s honor.” Rosie crossed her hands over her chest.

  “My best friend is becoming a fishmonger and it’s my fault,” Angelica moaned.

  “Maybe I’ll be the next Casey’s Cupcakes,” Rosie offered. “She made a fortune on cupcakes and was featured on television.”

  “Casey sold cupcakes with flavors like amaretto truffle and chocolate velvet. Her stores were all pink and white and the cupcakes were presented in gorgeously decorated boxes.”

  “Then I’ll be the Casey of fish tacos. Everyone loves fish tacos, it’s bound to be a success,” Rosie said
with a lot more confidence than she felt.

  * * *

  Rosie searched the kitchen for a pen and paper. She wanted to write her to-do list while it was fresh in her mind. In the morning she would visit Rachel and ask if she knew any storefronts for rent. She felt like she was jumping off a high-dive board, but the rush was strangely exhilarating.

  “I thought I heard someone in here.” Morris came in from the hallway. “Angelica’s boy toy asked for some Earl Grey tea.”

  “Dirk’s not a boy toy,” Rosie admonished him. “He’s a Shakespearean actor.”

  “I’d like to get a look at his passport to see if he’s really British.” Morris sniffed. “I bet the closest he’s come to performing Shakespeare is a high school stage in middle America.” Morris took out the silver tea set. He found a tea towel and polished the teapot.

  “Estelle said you tried my fish tacos.” Rosie looked up from her notepad.

  “I’m a big fan of tacos. Every night Peg makes me sausage rolls or meat pies.” Morris filled the kettle with water. “She thinks I still miss British food. I don’t have the heart to tell her I’d rather have a piece of salmon with steamed vegetables or a taco with guacamole and grated American cheese.”

  “Do you really think they were good?” Rosie asked anxiously.

  “Best Mexican food I’ve had since the two days I spent in Puerto Vallarta.” He nodded. He took silver dessert spoons out of the drawer and rubbed them with the tea towel.

  “I’m thinking of opening a fish taco shop in the village,” she said. “Estelle thinks it’s a great idea. Angelica is positive I’m committing myself to a manless purgatory.”

  Morris waited for the kettle to boil. He put two cups and a jug of whole cream on the tray.

  “Would I have been happier if I joined another boy band instead of becoming a butler?” He placed tea bags in the cups. “There were British bands arriving at LAX every day. Oscar could have fixed me up and I’d still be living the high life: Beverly Hills mansions, screaming fans, male models. Maybe I would have found a nice guy and settled down: an entertainment lawyer with blue eyes and curly black hair,” Morris mused.

  “You think I should go back to LA?” Rosie asked.