Market Street Page 11

  “I’d love to meet Ollie.” James stood up and brushed cookie crumbs from his slacks. “Some of my best friends growing up were cows.”

  James followed Jenny to the barn and Cassie pored over brochures and marketing plans with John and Selma. She liked the design of their butter containers: ceramic pots with black-and-white labels and a cow’s hoofprint on the bottom.

  “And I love the idea of selling your milk in reusable glass bottles.” Cassie put down her pen. “We’ll have a whole fridge of milk in colored bottles. And we’ll put a display of the butter pots next to the bread oven. Customers can sample fresh baked bread with churned butter.”

  Cassie heard the kitchen door slam and Jenny walked in, followed by James smiling sheepishly.

  “Your shirt is all wet.” Cassie frowned.

  “Ollie and I were getting along so well, I thought I’d see if I remembered how to milk her.” James took the tea towel Selma produced and sponged his shirt. “I remembered where to put the stool but I forgot to warm my hands.” He smiled at John and Selma. “Ollie got pretty upset and sprayed milk everywhere.”

  Cassie stood up and put her hand out to John and Selma. “We’ll be thrilled to sell your products at Fenton’s.”

  “Can we have cake to celebrate?” Jenny looked at her parents.

  “We have a few more appointments.” Cassie smiled. “But you’ll have to come to Fenton’s with your parents. I’ll share a piece of chocolate cake with you.”

  “In San Francisco?” Jenny jumped up and down.

  “We can take the elevator to the top of the St. Francis. Then you can see the whole city,” Cassie said.

  * * *

  James and Cassie climbed into the car and James backed down the lane.

  “I hope I didn’t embarrass you,” he said when he turned onto the main road.

  “I’ve never seen a man wearing a Brooks Brothers shirt soaked in cow’s milk.” Cassie giggled.

  “Cows have an innate sense about people. Ollie could tell I was an amateur.” James turned to Cassie. “It’s nice to see you smile.”

  “That was my first business deal.” Cassie took her notepad out of her purse.

  “Congratulations.” He squeezed Cassie’s hand. “You’re going to make the emporium a huge success.”

  Cassie put her hands in her lap and kept her eyes on the window. Farmers drove tractors over fields of lettuce. Cassie saw apple orchards and roadside stands selling baskets of cherries.

  James broke the silence. “I’d like to see the artist next. He’s a bit eccentric. He doesn’t have any furniture. I hope you don’t mind sitting on hay.”

  Cassie pulled her gaze from the window. For a minute she wished she were driving with Aidan in his ancient Toyota. She wanted to smell the familiar scent of his shampoo and feel his leather jacket rubbing against her arm.

  James pulled up in front of a red barn with a giant mural painted on its side.

  “What an amazing painting,” Cassie said, looking out the window.

  “Isn’t it? I drove by one afternoon and I had to stop. It reminds me of Bruegel. All those paintings he made of village life.” James paused. “I’m babbling. I minored in art history at Northwestern.”

  “You have a lot of talents.” Cassie opened the car door. “Dairyman, art historian.”

  “Emily and I are members of the Art Institute in Chicago. Maybe we could visit the Legion of Honor. They have a retrospective of van Gogh.”

  “I should spend all my time at the emporium, if I’m going to be ready for Mother’s grand opening.”

  “You’re right,” James replied awkwardly. “We both better work like mad. Your mother wants everything yesterday.”

  Suddenly Cassie felt very cold. She rubbed her hands together, remembering how Aidan would blow on her hands until she was warm.

  “Are you okay?” James turned around. “You look pale.”

  “I wish I had worn gloves.” Cassie felt tears spring to her eyes. “I forgot how cold it gets in the country.”

  James knocked on the door but no one answered. “Let’s go in.” He opened the door and motioned Cassie to follow him.

  Cassie breathed in sharply. The barn was huge, with square skylights cut into the ceiling. Every surface was covered in murals: the walls, the ceiling, even the floor was painted in bright colors.

  She stood in the middle of the barn, turning slowly so she didn’t miss anything. Every scene was full of people. Women shared platters of fruits and pastries. Children kicked a ball in a village square; men played chess on outdoor chess tables.

  “I love it,” she said. “I feel like I’m standing in a group of women, listening to their conversation.”

  “Exactly.” James joined Cassie in the middle of the barn. “I imagined a whole wall of murals in the emporium. When you go down the escalator you already feel the space is full of people shopping and eating and drinking.”

  A stocky man wearing an apron entered the room. He had gray hair and short fingers covered in paint.

  “Gregory, this is Cassie Blake, the owner of Fenton’s.”

  “My mother is the owner.” Cassie blushed. “I just work there.”

  “It is an honor to meet you, Miss Blake.” Gregory kissed her hand. “I’ve finished your pieces, they’re in the loft. But first we must have lunch. I’ve been working since six o’clock.”

  “We have to make a few more stops.” James shifted his feet.

  “Nonsense.” Gregory shook his head. “I must eat and it would be impolite to eat in front of you. My neighbor gave me two bottles of an excellent sauvignon blanc. Miss Blake, please allow me to make a chair for you.”

  Cassie sat cross-legged on the bale, looking at the feast Gregory had prepared. There was a long French roll, a tub of goat cheese, and three steaming bowls of vegetable stew.

  “I never understood the starving artist.” Gregory poured three glasses of wine. “How can you paint if your stomach is growling? To a long business partnership with the beautiful owner of Fenton’s.”

  Cassie smiled. Gregory’s enthusiasm was catching. She ate stew and cheese and bread and washed it down with wine. She listened to James and Gregory discuss art and felt a warm glow spread over her.

  “Your paintings are wonderful.” Cassie sipped her second glass. The wine had a slightly fruity taste.

  “Wait till you see the pieces for Fenton’s. But first we must have dessert.” He pulled himself up and disappeared into the kitchen.

  Gregory returned with an apple pie and a pitcher of whipped cream. “I’d starve if I lived in the city.” He cut three wedges and scooped whipped cream on each plate. “My neighbors leave food at my door: salads, pies, sometimes whole chickens.”

  After lunch, James and Gregory spent a long time discussing art. Cassie leaned against the wall, feeling warm and content. She followed the men up to the loft and looked at the canvases for Fenton’s. She imagined the murals in the emporium, and felt excitement bubbling inside her like champagne.

  “You must come to Fenton’s when the paintings are installed.” Cassie smiled as they got ready to leave.

  “I’m not very keen on cars and buses, but for you I will make an exception.” Gregory kissed her hand. “Take the rest of the apple pie, I have more in the kitchen.”

  Cassie hugged the apple pie as they ran to the car. Suddenly it was pouring sheets of rain. The ground turned instantly to mud.

  James backed down the lane onto the main road. Cassie tucked her feet under her and watched the vineyards disappear into the mist. James put on a Green Day CD and sang quietly, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.

  “Don’t tell me you’re a musician as well.” Cassie grinned.

  “I was in a band in college,” James admitted. “We played a few fraternity parties and broke up the day after graduation.”

  “Anything else to add to your résumé? Magician, horse whisperer?”

  “Cuckolded fiancé,” James joked, keeping his eyes on the road
. “I had fun today.”

  “So did I.” Cassie sat up straighter. They crossed the Golden Gate Bridge into the city. Cars flashed their fog lights and pedestrians ran with newspapers over their heads.

  “Maybe you should wait till it lets up, I don’t want you to get soaked,” James said as he pulled up in front of Alexis’s house.

  Cassie could see her breath on the windshield. “In San Francisco it can rain like this for hours.”

  “Let me get the picnic blanket. You can wear it over your head.” James jumped out before Cassie could stop him. He opened her door and slipped the blanket over her shoulders.

  “I’ll return it to the store.” Cassie could already feel the rain soaking through her skin.

  “See you tomorrow.” James leaned forward and kissed her on the lips. He stood for a moment, and then climbed in the car and drove away.

  * * *

  Alexis walked into the kitchen as Cassie was pouring a cup of tea. The blanket was draped over a chair, making a puddle on the stone floor.

  “You’re dripping on my Italian granite.” Alexis picked up the blanket.

  “I’m sorry, it was raining so hard James gave it to me to get inside. I’ll throw it in the laundry.”

  “He has excellent manners. I watched him open your car door when you left.” Alexis went to the pantry and brought out peanut butter, jam, and a loaf of wheat bread.

  “I had lunch.” Cassie warmed her hands on her teacup. She had taken off her sweater and wore a UCLA sweatshirt she found in the laundry.

  “I’m eating comfort food.” Alexis made herself a peanut butter sandwich. “I swam fifty laps this morning and I did a three-mile run in the house, carrying Poodles. I hate this rain. Maybe I’ll go with you to Fenton’s tomorrow and buy some new lingerie for Carter.”

  “When is he coming home?” Cassie sat at the kitchen table.

  “No clue, he’s at some Eastern European financial summit where they confiscate your cell phone.” Alexis poured herself a glass of milk. “Sometimes I think I should fold myself up in his carry-on, but I wouldn’t be welcome. The Eastern Europeans think women belong in the kitchen making strudel. Tell me about your day.”

  “We visited an artist who kissed my hand and told me I was beautiful,” Cassie said. “He made us a picnic in his barn. We drank a bottle of wine and ate fresh apple pie and whipped cream.”

  “I’m jealous.” Alexis licked the corner of the bread. “I counted how many stairs there are from the second to the third floor. You look like you’re about to cry, Cassie. What happened?”

  “When I was getting out of the car it was raining really hard.” Cassie took a deep breath. “James got the blanket out of the trunk and wrapped it around me. Then he kissed me.”

  “He kissed you?”

  “Just for a second, we were both soaked. He got in the car and drove away.”

  “Did you want him to kiss you?”

  “Of course I didn’t want him to.” Cassie jumped up. “I’m married, Alexis. And James is engaged.”

  “I just think James is really cute. With the owl glasses and the floppy brown hair. It might be nice if you had a little diversion.”

  “You mean get back at Aidan by having an affair?” Cassie’s eyes flickered. “Aidan made one mistake.”

  “You can have a little fun.” Alexis dunked the sandwich in her milk.

  “Cheating on your husband isn’t fun!” Cassie stormed over to the counter. “Lying in bed with Aidan is fun, watching him make soup is fun. Drinking red wine together and moaning about Isabel is fun.”

  “Where are you going?” Alexis put her sandwich on the plate.

  “I’m going to call my husband”—Cassie fished her phone out of her purse—“and ask him out to dinner.”

  10.

  Cassie closed her laptop and looked at her watch. It was almost noon and she hadn’t eaten breakfast. She walked from the library to the kitchen and opened the fridge. She felt like making a big salad with the sweet red peppers she found at the grocery near Alexis’s house.

  Cassie was pleased with the progress she was making. She had secured another dozen suppliers and received Alice Waters’s promise she would attend the grand opening. With Alice on board, she was sure she could get Michael Mina and Bradley Ogden to participate. Her mother would be thrilled.

  Aidan called every night before she went to bed: short phone calls that were awkward at first, but now she looked forward to them all day. She didn’t tell him much about the emporium, but they laughed about Alexis’s yoga addiction and Isabel’s latest demands. Aidan grumbled he turned the sheets gray in the laundry, and told her what he made for dinner. On Saturday he was taking her to dinner at Green’s, an impossible reservation to get, that he somehow secured without the three-month wait.

  “The captain of industry takes a break.” Alexis stood by the window. She wore long johns and red UGG slippers. Her cheeks were pale and she had circles under her eyes.

  “I’m making a salad. I found a delicious herb vinaigrette at a shop on Fillmore. I think I’m going to stock it at the emporium.” Cassie wore a beige Michael Kors dress and navy tights. She had been swimming in Alexis’s pool every night and her muscles felt taut.

  “Not hungry.” Alexis shrugged. “What’s new in the world of commerce?”

  “I snagged Alice for the grand opening. Can you imagine if I get Thomas Keller? I heard he has a Havanese dog that only eats steak. I’m going to send him a doggy bag of prime rib.” Cassie put spinach and arugula on the counter. She rinsed a tomato and glanced at Alexis. “You don’t look very good. Has the yoga Nazi been tough on you?”

  “Carter called this morning. Apparently big things are happening in Prague and Budapest. He’s going to extend his trip another month.” Alexis sat at the table. “I love Carter for crisscrossing the planet creating the yellow brick road, but sometimes I want him home so badly it’s a physical pain. I should have gotten pregnant. If I had a mini Carter I wouldn’t be so lonely. You waltz off to Fenton’s every day and I plan Poodles’s dinner menus.”

  “You could join a charity. You have so much to give.”

  “Those charities are never about giving. They’re a competition to see who wears the most expensive gown to the AIDS ball or the diabetes dinner. I’m so desperate I called Carter’s mother to see if she needs help with the ballet gala. At least I’m interested in dance.”

  “That sounds promising.” Cassie drizzled dressing into a wooden salad bowl.

  “She’ll be critiquing my every move. Carter is a big player now. I have to wear the correct number of carats in my ears when I go out in public.”

  Cassie’s phone vibrated on the counter. She looked at the caller ID and frowned. “It’s my mother. She’s in Palm Beach, at the Breakers. She says she can’t stock the right resort wear unless she spends some time at a resort.” Cassie picked up the phone and balanced it under her chin. “No, I’m not at the store, Mother, I’m working at home.” Cassie made a face at Alexis. “That’s terrible, poor Derek.” She sprinkled grated cheese in the salad bowl. “No, you don’t have to come home.” Cassie gazed at Alexis. “I know someone who can cover for him. She’s an old school friend.” Cassie carried the salad bowl to the kitchen table. “Yes, she has experience in fashion. She was a personal shopper for Gordon Getty’s wife.” Cassie moved the phone to her other ear. “Yes, I’ll call her right now. Don’t worry, Mother, enjoy the Breakers.”

  Cassie pressed END and pulled out the kitchen chair. She ladled salad onto two plates and passed one to Alexis.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” Alexis asked.

  “Derek hurt his back and is confined to bed for six weeks.” Cassie poured herself a glass of lemonade from the Limoges pitcher on the table. “The assistant manager is on maternity leave and Mother’s not scheduled to be back for two weeks.”

  “Cassie, you didn’t.” Alexis shook her head.

  “You would be a fabulous store manager. You know more ab
out fashion than Anna Wintour.” Cassie’s eyes sparkled.

  “You told your mother I was a personal shopper for Ann Getty?”

  “You and Ann did that Macy’s charity fashion show together. You told me you picked out everyone’s outfit. You’re a natural.” Cassie grinned.

  “Standing in Fenton’s all day, surrounded by Pucci scarves and Prada boots?” Alexis nibbled a spinach leaf.

  “Sometimes the customers can be exhausting, but it beats turning your body into a pretzel.” Cassie speared tomato wedges with her fork.

  “It sounds absolutely fabulous.” Alexis pushed her chair back. “Do you think your mother would give me a discount? I’d love to stock up on spring Manolos. I saw them online and they have the sweetest cork heels.”

  “Alexis, you don’t need a discount.” Cassie giggled. “You’re married to a gazillionaire.”

  “But if I get a discount, I have to buy them. It would be fiscally imprudent not to.” Alexis studied her reflection in the fridge door.

  “You’re already talking like a saleswoman.” Cassie blotted her mouth with a napkin. “Go upstairs and put on one of your drop-dead outfits and we’ll drive in together.”

  * * *

  Alexis handed the keys to her Range Rover to the valet and stood on the sidewalk straightening her skirt. She wore a yellow wool skirt with a zipper up the back and a black angora sweater. Her feet were squeezed into four-inch-heel Christian Louboutins and she balanced a pillbox hat on her head.

  “You don’t give the car to the valet when you work here.” Cassie got out the passenger side. “It’ll cost you a fortune.”

  “I’m setting an example for our customers. If they all valet park, Fenton’s will make more money.” Alexis scooped Poodles up and placed him in a Louis Vuitton handbag. “Besides, I’m not ruining these heels on the parking garage cement. The soles are encrusted with real diamonds.”

  “I feel like Cinderella’s stepsister.” Cassie studied her reflection in Fenton’s window. She smoothed her hair and smeared on an extra coat of lip gloss.

  “Shit, Cassie.” Alexis clutched Cassie’s arm as the doorman ushered them inside. “I never realized how big and imposing Fenton’s is. What if the managers find out I’ve never worked in a department store? It’ll be so embarrassing.”