Monarch Beach Read online

  “I know what you mean. You want to acknowledge its beauty somehow. Fill yourself up with it,” I agreed.

  “I feel lucky to live here. Especially right now.” He put his hand on my knee.

  The car climbed the hill to his house and we pulled into the driveway.

  “It’s so quiet.” I faced the ocean. It was completely calm, a deep, still blue like an inkwell.

  “No one here but us.” Edward took my hand and led me up the steps. “You sit on the deck, while I get lunch.” Edward took me outside.

  “Can I help?”

  “No. I have something special planned.” Edward grinned, and disappeared into the kitchen.

  The table was already set with straw place mats and white paper napkins. Edward had put a vase of daisies on the table, and a bowl of grapes.

  “This is pretty fancy,” I said when he appeared from the kitchen carrying two glasses of orange juice.

  “I don’t have a beautiful lady here for lunch often, make that never.” He put the glasses down and kissed the top of my head.

  “Virgin orange juice or would you like it hit with champagne?” he asked.

  “Virgin.” I sipped it. “I’m trying to live by my parents’ rule: No alcohol before six p.m. I’ve become a bit of a lush.”

  “Luscious but not a lush. I agree. It’s too beautiful a day to blur our senses. I’ll be right back.”

  I toyed with a bunch of purple grapes and tried to relax. It was the middle of the day and we were having lunch. Drinking virgin orange juice. Nothing was going to happen.

  Edward came back on the deck and put two small-lidded pots on the table. He had a loaf of bread wedged under his arm, which he dropped on a plate.

  “Take off the lid,” he instructed.

  I took off the lid. It smelled of the most wonderful cheese and herbs.

  “It’s broccoli fondue. I made it,” he said proudly.

  “You made a fondue?”

  “I figured it was time to exorcise your demons. Try it.”

  I dunked a slice of French bread into the fondue. The cheese melted in my mouth and dribbled down my chin.

  “What do you think?” he asked.

  “It’s fantastic. Where did you learn to make fondue?” I asked.

  “In my college fraternity. Then it was basically throw everything into a pot and soak it in cheese and beer. The chef at the restaurant gave me a recipe for a more sophisticated fondue,” Edward explained.

  “You’ll have to make it for Max, he’ll be impressed.” I wiped my mouth with the napkin.

  “I don’t want to compete with Andre. I’m just trying to help you overcome your fears.”

  “I’m not afraid of fondue,” I laughed.

  “Not anymore. We’re conquering one phobia at a time: restaurants, hostesses, fondue. Maybe next we’ll tackle parasailing.” He grinned.

  “I’ve never tried parasailing,” I said.

  “There’s plenty of time,” he replied.

  * * *

  “Can I help you clean up?” I asked, after we had scraped the pots clean of fondue.

  “No, I’ll do it. Why don’t we have dessert in the living room?” Edward stacked plates and dishes and went into the kitchen.

  I wandered into the living room and sat on a low leather sofa. There was one bookshelf crammed with framed photos of Edward Jr. and Jessica. The younger photos showed them in Hawaii, riding bicycles, and clowning around with assorted pets.

  “There aren’t any photos of Julie, in case you’re looking,” Edward said as he set down two bowls of vanilla ice cream and a jug of chocolate sauce.

  “I wasn’t looking, but now that you mention it, there aren’t. God, does that mean I’m going to have to go through all my photos of Max and get rid of the ones with Andre in them?”

  “At least you’re divorcing while Max is young. I had to sift through fifteen years of photographs for Edward, and thirteen for Jessica. I didn’t want my ex-wife looking at me every day,” Edward said.

  “Minefield after minefield,” I mumbled.

  “But you’re getting through them. You’re a star,” he said.

  “The ice cream is delicious.” I poured chocolate sauce over it.

  “I made the chocolate sauce, too, but don’t tell my son. He thinks I’m getting too domesticated.”

  “I remember. I don’t see any homemade doilies lying around, so you’re safe,” I giggled.

  “The first year after my divorce I had the typical bachelor pad: a fridge that held one bottle of vodka, one lemon, and an onion; a loaf of bread in the pantry and a never-ending supply of salami, because it was the only meat that didn’t spoil when I was too drunk to put it back in the fridge. One day I looked around and thought: I’ve never lived like this before, why would I want to live like this now? That’s when I met Sam and he convinced me to pick up and move here. He was an advertising exec refugee. His ex-wife was getting seventy percent of his paycheck and he couldn’t afford to go to work anymore.” He paused and licked his spoon. “Laguna’s great, close enough to the kids but far enough from Julie for the wounds to heal.”

  “That’s one thing I’m afraid of. Ross is such a small town.” I put my bowl on the table.

  “One fear at a time.” He leaned close and kissed me on the lips.

  “I haven’t shown you the rest of the house.” He got up and took my hand.

  I swallowed. This was the moment when I should say I have to go. I needed to get back to the hotel for Max. My mother was waiting for me. Any excuse to hop back in the Mini, thank him for an amazing lunch, and return, a virgin, to the St. Regis. I knew if I followed him, we would end up in his bedroom, with all my defenses down.

  “It’s not a very big house.” Edward grinned as he poked his head into the study, guest bedroom, and adjoining bath. “The best part is up here.” He led me up a steep flight of stairs. At the top was an open space with floor-to-ceiling windows looking at the ocean, and a king-sized bed with a white wooden bed frame. The bed was covered in a pale blue comforter and heaped with pillows.

  “Oh, my gosh.” I stood at the window, as far from the bed as possible, drinking in the view.

  “I splurged up here. I bought a new bed, sheets, pillows, the works. It’s even more beautiful at night, when you can see all the lights twinkling up and down the coast.”

  “It’s heaven,” I said.

  Edward sat on the bed and took my hand. “Come here,” he said.

  I sat next to him. He kissed me for a long time, rubbing his hand up and down my spine. Then he stood me up and pulled my dress over my head. He turned me around and unsnapped my bra so I was standing in my panties and bare feet. He reached forward and sucked my nipples, gently cupping my breasts in his hands. Then he took one hand and edged my panties down my legs until they lay in a heap at my ankles.

  My legs trembled, but he held me up, and slowly he moved his mouth down to my stomach, nudged my legs open, and thrust his fingers inside me, reaching deeper than he had before.

  This time he didn’t stop, but pressed his mouth firmly against my stomach, and kept pressing his fingers further, until I could feel myself gasping and shuddering and coming.

  “Oh God,” I whispered, when the waves started to recede.

  “I thought you’d like that.” He smiled. “Come here.” He pulled me onto the bed and lay down beside me.

  He took off his clothes; his chest was thick and covered with light gray hair. He kissed my neck and my throat, and ran his fingers through my hair. Then he climbed on top of me, and when he entered me I felt like I was opening up to a place that could not possibly exist. I couldn’t wait. I clung to his back, and came again and again.

  “Well, wow,” I said finally.

  “Wow, yourself.” He turned to me and traced the tip of my nose with his finger. “I’d say there are a lot of new things we can try together.” He grinned.

  “It seems that way.” My body was still reeling.

  “Stay here, I have
something for you.” He threw on his shorts and walked into a narrow walk-in closet.

  “This is for you.” He placed a small box wrapped in plain gold paper on the bed.

  “For me?” I asked.

  “Open it.”

  I sat up, still naked, and unwrapped the box. Inside was a black velvet jewelry box. I snapped it open.

  “Edward!” Inside the box were the monarch butterfly earrings we had seen at the hotel gift shop.

  “Do you like them?” he asked.

  “I love them, but why?” I examined the tiny pieces of colored gems encrusted in the butterflies’ wings.

  “Remember when we met, at the monarch butterfly release?”

  “Of course. You gave me nutrition tips,” I laughed.

  “And Max came up and asked you to make a wish?”

  “Yes,” I said, and nodded.

  “I made a wish, too: that I would get to know you better.”

  “Oh,” I said.

  “And that wish is starting to come true.” He kissed me slowly, on the lips.

  “I really don’t know what to say.” I kissed him back.

  “You’ll keep them?”

  “Of course I’ll keep them, they’re gorgeous. I might not wear them in front of my mother just yet.” I grinned.

  “We’ll work on her,” he said. He kissed me again, and pushed me back onto the bed.

  * * *

  Eventually we got dressed, and I tucked the jewelry box into my bag. We climbed into the Mini and sped down the hill. We kept the windows down so it was hard to hear each other, but I was in a state of sexual bliss and didn’t feel the need to talk.

  “It was a wonderful afternoon,” I said when we pulled up to the St. Regis.

  “The best.” He grinned. “Be a good girl tonight; I’ll call you in the morning.”

  * * *

  I headed straight to Kids’ Club to get Max. If we went upstairs together my mother could ask Max questions about his day, and I could steal into the shower until my body regained its equilibrium.

  “Hey, Max, how was sea kayaking?” I opened the doors to Kids’ Club and found Max engrossed in the Wii.

  “Awesome! Let me tell you all about it,” he replied.

  “Why don’t you wait till we get to the suite, so you can tell Grandma and me at the same time.” I took his hand.

  We rode the elevator up to the suite and opened the door. My mother was out on the balcony with a glass in her hand. I stopped at the wet bar and poured myself a gin and tonic. It wasn’t six o’clock yet, but I needed a shot of Dutch courage. I remembered my prep school days. My mother had a nose like a hound dog for smelling mischief. If I stood next to someone who was smoking at a party, or dipped my finger in a friend’s rum and Coke, she could tell. I sprayed myself with cologne in the guest bathroom.

  “Well, hi, you two.” My mother came inside. “How was your day?” She looked at me.

  “Mine was great,” I said, beaming. “Max, tell us about sea kayaking.”

  Max launched into a description of the amazing fish he saw. I realized even with the gin and tonic inside me, I was a ball of nerves.

  “I think I’m going to shower and change for dinner.” I put my drink down.

  “I’ll order,” my mother said. “I’m sure Max is starving. Amanda, there’s something I want to talk to you about after Max goes to bed. You’re not going out, are you?”

  “Nope, home for the night.” I gave her my sweetest smile and escaped to my room.

  * * *

  Half an hour later, I emerged wearing a long-sleeved Diane von Furstenberg caftan and Chanel ballet slippers. I knew my mother was a sucker for anything with a Diane von Furstenberg label. I hoped the Chanel slippers would remind her of when I was a sweet and innocent ten-year-old who wanted desperately to become a ballerina. As a finishing touch, I tucked my hair into a prim bun. I left the butterfly earrings, snug in their box, on my bedside table.

  My mother and Max were already seated at the table. Max was on his third slice of bread and hummus, and my mother sipped a cold gazpacho.

  “I ordered you the shrimp risotto. I had it the other night, the sauce is delicious.” My mother smiled. She was wearing a yellow Polo dress and pastel flip-flops.

  I took a spoonful of rice and shrimp and realized I was starving. One of the things I had missed about sex was the wonderful way it enhanced my appetite. Tonight was the first time I had really tasted food since I had seen Andre and Ursula swallowing each other’s tongues.

  My mother seemed to have an appetite as well. I watched her nervously as she ate salmon and mashed potatoes, but if she was about to give me a morals lecture she didn’t let on. She and Max held an animated discussion on the chances of various American Idol contestants, and she ate all the mashed potatoes without any prompting. When we examined the dessert cart she almost fought Max for the chocolate raspberry cheesecake. I nibbled the butterscotch parfait; I had to control myself if I wanted to look good stripped down to my underwear.

  * * *

  Max was tired out from his day of kayaking and needed no encouragement to go to bed. My mother and I took coffee out on the deck, and I steeled myself for what was coming.

  “School starts in less than three weeks. Have you decided what you are going to do?” she asked.

  It wasn’t the question I had anticipated. I expected her to ask: “Why did you come home with that ‘I’ve spent all afternoon in bed and I’m still in a sexual haze’ look on your face?” Maybe she was leading up to her inquisition.

  “It doesn’t seem like Andre is going to budge, so I’ll have to look for a house to rent in Ross. Dean said that legally Andre could stay in the house if Andre paid Max rent, and the money would be put in a trust for Max.”

  “When are you going to tell Max about the divorce?” my mother asked.

  “I was hoping Andre would come down here and we could do it together. It seems his dance card has been full all summer. He keeps saying he’s coming but he never shows up.”

  “A man of his word,” my mother murmured.

  “I guess I’ll tell Max when we go back to Ross,” I replied.

  “Amanda…” My mother paused. I sucked in my breath. She was going to tell me I was a terrible mother for jumping into bed with Edward so quickly. I didn’t know him at all, I wasn’t even divorced, and I should be ashamed of myself.

  “I have decided to stay at the St. Regis till spring, possibly longer,” she said.

  “What?” I was stunned.

  “I love it here. I love the weather, I love the beauty, and I love the way the staff takes care of me.”

  “But you’ve been in your house for thirty-five years! It’s where you and Dad lived your whole marriage.”

  “And I miss him every day, but that’s the problem. In that house he was everywhere, I saw him when I walked into every room. Being here, I realize there are things I still enjoy: eating good food, being around people, even watching trashy television. I miss your father terribly, but I’m not quite ready to join him yet.”

  Tears sprung to my eyes. I knew I was being selfish, but I couldn’t imagine not being able to cross the Golden Gate Bridge and see my mother whenever I needed her.

  “You and Max could live in the house, or you could both stay here with me,” she offered tentatively.

  “We can’t stay here, Max’s whole life is in Ross. And we can’t live in the city either,” I replied glumly.

  “I’m sorry, honey. I don’t want to go back to living in a tomb.”

  I didn’t answer. I admired her for being able to change her life. I was having a hard time imagining living on a different street in Ross.

  I watched her sip a decaf espresso, and I remembered when I was a child I would hear her and my father come home from a party late at night. Sometimes they would turn on the record player and dance in the foyer. I even spied them a few times gliding around the ballroom. My father always had a drink in his hand, and my mother would be wearing s
ome glorious gown, her shoes tossed against the wall.

  “I think that’s wonderful,” I said, beaming.

  “You do?” She put down her espresso.

  “You belong here. You have a five-star staff at your beck and call. It’s perfect.”

  “Are you sure you and Max won’t stay? I’ve heard there are some good schools close by.”

  “I’m sure. But we’ll be down all the time. Max will be thrilled to come and surf.” I was exhausting myself with my own enthusiasm.

  “I’m so relieved. I was dreading bringing it up to you.” My mother patted her hair. Her feet were tucked under her, displaying a perfect pedicure.

  “I love you, Mom.” I got up and pecked her on the cheek. “I’m tired and full, I ate too much parfait,” I joked, so she wouldn’t see the tears in my eyes. “I’m going to bed.”

  I slipped off my Chanel slippers and hung up my caftan. I wrapped myself in a St. Regis robe and took my hair out of its bun. I stood at the mirror for a long time brushing my hair. Finally I climbed into bed and snapped open the jewelry box. I could have worn the earrings and my mother would not have noticed. She hadn’t been thinking about me at all.

  Chapter Eight

  When I woke up the next morning and peeked through the shutters, I saw the ocean was socked in with fog. Beach Boot Camp would be canceled. Max could spend the morning at Kids’ Club playing Wii. My mother had God-knows-what saved on her TiVo and I didn’t need to worry about her. I decided all I wanted to do was climb under the covers and sleep all day.

  When I woke again it was almost five o’clock. My first thought was I was starving, but the hunger was quickly replaced by another emotion: fear. My mother was moving away, my marriage was over, and I had slept with another man. I, who thought when I exchanged vows with Andre ten years ago that “till death do us part” and “forsaking all others” actually meant something, had sex with someone else.

  I checked my phone. I had two missed calls from Stephanie. I pressed delete. She would ferret out that I had slept with Edward and I wasn’t ready for her critique. There was one missed call and a text from Edward. The text read: “Have surprise for Max. Can I pick you two up at noon tomorrow?” I smiled and texted back “yes.” Then I got up, wrapped my robe around me, and hoped room service had left breakfast and lunch on the sideboard in the living room.