Market Street Page 5

  “Why are you pacing, Mother?”

  “Because I’ve been up all night thinking about this. I need you to run it.”

  “Me?”

  “You’re young, you know all the women who would shop there. Think if we can convince the girls in the Junior League and the Young Friends of the Opera to buy their produce and cheeses from Fenton’s.”

  “I’m not a member of those organizations.” Cassie shook her head.

  “But you went to school with them. And you’d be the perfect buyer. You can find local growers who produce twenty different kinds of lettuce. You can stock asparagus tips, artichoke hearts, avocados, pomegranates. No other store would offer a greater selection.”

  Cassie looked out the window at the skyline. She could see Coit Tower and the red cable cars crisscrossing the streets like figures on a Monopoly board. Her mother’s excitement was contagious. She imagined herself presiding over the food counter, handling heirloom tomatoes the size of cantaloupes. She pictured herself encouraging customers to purchase the sweetest snow peas, to stay away from peaches when they weren’t in season, to buy locally grown strawberries instead.

  “It would be a huge undertaking.” Cassie fiddled with her wedding ring. “I don’t have the time.”

  “You don’t know how satisfying it is to wrap something in a Fenton’s box, and know when the customer takes it home it will give her and her family pleasure. You’d be making a difference in kitchens all around San Francisco. Don’t you think Aidan would find that worthwhile?”

  “It’s not about Aidan.” Cassie blushed.

  “It’s always about Aidan. He’s like a black bear, growling at everything you do.”

  “Aidan told me just a couple of days ago how proud he is of my volunteer work.” Cassie sniffed.

  “Volunteering doesn’t compete with Professor Aidan Blake’s sense of grandeur.” Diana sat on the love seat opposite Cassie.

  “Cheap shot, Mother,” Cassie replied.

  “Darling, let’s not talk about Aidan. A food emporium might be terrifically successful, and I can’t think of anyone more suited for the job.”

  Cassie took a deep breath. “I’m starving. You invited me to lunch. I smelled Maria’s paella when I walked in.”

  “I’ll tell Maria we’re ready for lunch on one condition.” Diana stood up.

  “What?” Cassie asked.

  “You have dinner with James and me next week and hear his vision.”

  Cassie glanced at her mother. She resembled a modern Katharine Hepburn, all angles and hard edges. “Either you are a very good saleswoman or I’m so hungry I can’t think straight. I’ll have dinner with you and James.”

  “Excellent. Tuesday at eight o’clock at Boulevard. I already made the reservation.”

  “Of course you did.” Cassie smiled, following her mother into the dining room.

  * * *

  When Cassie left her mother’s building, carrying a Burberry lunch box of Maria’s paella, a familiar Range Rover was idling at the sidewalk.

  “I’m not stalking you.” Alexis rolled down the passenger window. “I called your house and Aidan said you were having lunch with your mother. I need a favor.”

  Cassie peered into the car. Alexis wore oversized Oliver Peoples sunglasses and a Miu Miu purple shirtdress.

  “What kind of favor?”

  “Hop in and I’ll tell you.” Alexis opened the car door.

  Cassie climbed into the passenger seat, moving a stack of books to the floor. “Do you read all these?” Cassie flipped through Jane Green, Jennifer Weiner, Lauren Weisberger, and the latest Shopaholic.

  “I belong to four book clubs. We don’t actually read the books, we use them as coasters for our wineglasses.” Alexis laughed.

  “Where are we going?” Cassie remembered when Alexis would drive her home from school, and they’d cross the Golden Gate Bridge on a whim, or go down to Fisherman’s Wharf and eat ice cream with the tourists.

  “Thursdays is couples yoga and Carter is in Dallas. Will you be my yoga partner?”

  “You’re hijacking me to attend couples yoga?”

  “I can’t go alone to couples yoga,” Alexis protested. “The class will think my marriage is in trouble.”

  “They might think your marriage is in more trouble if you bring me.” Cassie grabbed the dashboard as Alexis took a sharp turn onto Chestnut Street.

  “Please, yoga really centers me. I don’t want to miss it.”

  “I don’t have yoga clothes.” Cassie pointed to her pleated skirt and wool sweater.

  “I brought an extra leotard, just in case.”

  “I’ve wasted most of the day, I guess I could be Zen for an hour. As long as they don’t make me stand on my head because it gives me a headache. Can we go to Just Desserts after and have those amazing custard Danishes?”

  “What good is yoga if you follow it with custard Danish?” Alexis shook her head.

  “I meditate better if I’m imagining custard,” Cassie replied.

  * * *

  “How did it go with Aidan before the make-up sex?” Alexis asked over cups of steaming chai tea. They sat at a window table at Just Desserts, watching the joggers run around the Marina Green.

  Cassie peeled off a layer of Danish. She was flushed and sweaty from the yoga. The instructor was a German woman who had glided around the room pressing in stomachs and straightening backs.

  “That wasn’t yoga, that was boot camp.” Cassie poured hot milk into her tea.

  “You’ll appreciate it if you take a few more classes. Gerta is a disciplined teacher, but she gets great results,” Alexis replied.

  “If you want your body to be shaped permanently like a pretzel. I’m going to stick with early morning walks to the Rose Garden.” Cassie added two spoonfuls of honey.

  “You’re avoiding my question. How is the professor?”

  “Aidan was only trying to do good,” Cassie mumbled. The Molly episode still hurt, like a pin stuck in the hem of a dress.

  “I thought charity began at home.” Alexis ate a thin slice of Danish.

  “He bought the pendant for me for Christmas. He ran into Molly at Peet’s on his way home. She was all broken up because her boyfriend ran off with her best friend, so he just gave her the box.”

  “Handed her a Fenton’s box in the middle of Peet’s?” Alexis raised her eyebrows.

  “He said he preaches about doing good in his lectures, but never gets the opportunity to put his words into action.” Cassie shrugged.

  “He could volunteer at the soup kitchen, or adopt a stray kitten.” Alexis pushed her Danish aside.

  “No kittens, thank you. I still have to feed and clean up after Isabel.” Cassie dipped her finger in the custard. “I think he meant spontaneous good. Helping someone without being asked, just because the situation presents itself.”

  “Are you going to keep the pendant?” Alexis asked.

  “I don’t think so,” Cassie said. The box had been sitting in her closet all week. Somehow she couldn’t bring herself to open it. “The color doesn’t do much for my eyes.”

  “Then exchange it for something fabulous, like another cashmere scarf. One of the new patterns.”

  “You get one, and I’ll borrow it.” Cassie ate the center of the Danish. The custard was light and sweet.

  “I’m sick of shopping.” Alexis put down her teacup. “I know that sounds spoilt but I’ve been shopping since we got married. First it was for a wedding gown and bridesmaids’ dresses, then bikinis and sarongs for the honeymoon. Then a whole year of shopping to furnish the house. Christmas presents for Carter’s clients, hostess gifts for their wives. I’m shopped out.”

  “Don’t let my mother hear you say that. Women should never get tired of shopping.” Cassie laughed.

  “How was Lady Diana at lunch?” Alexis asked.

  Cassie smiled. Alexis referred to Diana as the “The Duchess” during high school because she dressed as if she was attending a royal tea.
Alexis said she never saw Diana without a silk scarf tied around her neck, or without her gold Cartier dangling from her wrist.

  “Mother wants me to work at Fenton’s. She met a young architect who had this brilliant idea of turning the basement of Fenton’s into a food emporium, with locally grown produce. Vegetables, fruits, local cheeses, bread, wine. She wants me to run it.”

  “Is he cute?” Alexis leaned forward.

  “Is who cute?” Cassie frowned.

  “The young architect.”

  “You’re married, remember.” Cassie shook her head.

  “I’m kidding, I’d never cheat on Carter. I just see Carter so rarely; sometimes I forget what he looks like. Every girl needs a little eye candy.”

  “I have no idea. He’s from Chicago. I’m having dinner with him and my mother next week,” Cassie replied.

  “So you are considering it.” Alexis looked at Cassie. “What would Aidan say?”

  “I don’t know if I’m considering it, though it is interesting. Can you imagine driving to local growers and finding their best produce? Discovering white eggplant, Chinese broccoli, cheese made with chives and garlic. Then displaying it all in a beautiful space.” Cassie’s eyes sparkled.

  “Broccoli doesn’t excite me, but I think it would be a gas to work at Fenton’s. I’m dying to work; I sit at home and watch my nails grow.”

  “Why don’t you get a job?” Cassie asked.

  “I was a dance major. I don’t think the San Francisco Ballet is hiring hedge-fund wives for the corps de ballet. We don’t want to have a baby yet. I read if you have a baby too early in the marriage you’ll never be a ‘fun young couple’ flying to Europe, trying new restaurants, attending the theater. The problem is Carter travels nonstop on business. When he’s here he entertains clients at night, or he’s so tired he falls asleep before I can fix a pre-dinner martini.”

  “You could open a little boutique on Sacramento Street. You have the best style,” Cassie suggested.

  “Every wife in Presidio Heights has a boutique on Sacramento Street. I can’t walk a block without one of my friends waving hello from their bath boutique, or their antique furniture salon, or their high-end consignment store. It’s like a never-ending Tupperware party.”

  “Yoga instructor?” Cassie grinned.

  “I’d have to hold in my stomach all day.” Alexis blotted her mouth with her napkin and re-applied pearl pink lip gloss. “Carter has his eye on a summer home in Napa. It’s on an acre of vineyard. He wants to gut it and furnish it in ‘early Californian.’ That will keep me busy for a year and by then it’ll be time to shop for bassinets and booties.” Alexis looked at her watch. “I should go. He’s on the six o’clock into SFO and I need to pick up a dozen oysters.”

  “Don’t you think you spoil him?” Cassie put her napkin on her plate.

  “Oysters are a natural aphrodisiac. Carter’s been gone for five days, at least we can have great ‘welcome home’ sex. I’ll drive you back to your car.”

  * * *

  Cassie drove into the parking lot of the Berkeley Co-op. She walked into the co-op and looked around with new eyes. She noticed how the green vegetables were grouped together, and the front of the store was piled with citrus fruits. One corner was devoted to varieties of lettuce: endive, bok choy, arugula, mesclun. A wooden table held pots of mustard with handwritten labels. Cassie sampled a horseradish Dijon on a stone wheat cracker.

  “Are you looking for something special?” the clerk asked. He had a scruffy goatee and wore a green T-shirt that said, “Order Whirled Peas.”

  “My husband loves to make soup. Which are the tastiest vegetables in season?” Cassie asked.

  The clerk scratched his chin. “Our buyer just scored some turnips from a farm in Stockton. With the right herbs, they make a delicious base.”

  “I’ll take a bag. Do you have any chard? And brussels sprouts. My husband can make brussels sprouts taste like candy.” She loaded her shopping basket with produce.

  Cassie stood at the checkout. The paper bags also said “Order Whirled Peas” under a picture of two doves. The clerk put a sample of organic fruit loaf in her bag and suggested she try a jar of kiwi jelly. Cassie walked back to the car, her arms filled with produce, thinking about her mother’s idea. A food emporium, having a job involving the things she loved, was suddenly tempting.

  * * *

  Aidan was hunched over his laptop when Cassie walked into the house. He had a pencil tucked behind one ear and a box of dark chocolate truffles on the table beside him.

  “You came home at just the right time. I’m out of truffles and getting nowhere with this paper. Maybe you could create a diversion.” Aidan kissed Cassie and lifted a grocery bag from her arms.

  “I bought ingredients for soup. But I don’t know how exciting that is after a box of truffles.” Cassie carried the other bag into the kitchen.

  “I was thinking of a horizontal type of diversion. In bed, with a bottle of warm brandy. I can’t get the thermostat up high enough.” Aidan placed the bag on the counter and put his hands around Cassie’s waist.

  “Didn’t you say Isabel would be home for dinner tonight?” Cassie laid her purchases on the counter: a bunch of turnips, a head of purple cauliflower, a tree of brussels sprouts.

  “All the more reason to climb into bed now. She said she has something to tell us, which means she’s failing a class or has a new boyfriend. Fucking you will make me a better listener.” Aidan kissed Cassie’s neck.

  “Can we make the soup first?” Cassie took butter out of the fridge. “The co-op had sourdough bread fresh out of the oven.”

  Aidan kissed the top of her head. “Soup before sex? That sounds very bourgeois.”

  “Just tonight.” Cassie smiled. “The clerk gave me a recipe he said was delicious.”

  “Okay, but you have to sit here while I slave at the stove. I’m having trouble relating Aristotle’s tenets on treating your fellow man to the Facebook age.”

  Cassie watched Aidan slice turnips. Driving across the bridge she had rehearsed how she would broach the subject of the food emporium, but suddenly she was nervous. She looked at Aidan’s hands, imagining how later they would travel over her body, touch her in places that made her ache with desire. Cassie took a deep breath.

  “My mother sent me home with Maria’s paella and I bought you a slice of red velvet cheesecake from Just Desserts.”

  “How did you end up at Just Desserts?” Aidan smeared a thin film of olive oil inside the soup pot.

  “Alexis coerced me into doing couples yoga with her, so we rewarded ourselves at Just Desserts.”

  “Powwows with my favorite two women on the same day? Did they bring an Aidan doll and stick pins in it?” Aidan frowned.

  Cassie blushed. “My mother likes you as much as she likes anyone who doesn’t spend every minute shopping at Fenton’s. You and Alexis just need to spend more time together. We should have dinner with her and Carter.”

  “At their mosaic dining-room table imported in pieces from Italy? Going to their wedding was enough. I was the only man in the room not wearing an Armani tux, including the waiters.” Aidan opened a bottle of red wine and poured himself a glass. “And Carter only drinks French wine. What kind of guy drinks wine from the Loire Valley when he lives an hour from Napa?”

  “Actually Alexis said Carter’s thinking of buying a summer home on a vineyard.”

  “Of course, then he’ll drink his own ‘private’ label.” Aidan poured a glass for Cassie.

  “I agree with you about buying locally.” Cassie sipped the wine. “My mother actually had an interesting idea.”

  “I’m listening.” Aidan threw turnip, baby onions, and chopped kale into the pot.

  “She met an architect who specializes in the interior design of restaurants. He just did a new restaurant in the city that is all ‘green.’ He suggested we turn the basement of Fenton’s into a food emporium, featuring locally grown produce, cheese, bread, wines.”<
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  “The Fenton’s crowd doesn’t strike me as particularly ‘green.’ Don’t they all drive Range Rovers and hop on planes the way most people hop on buses?” Aidan added basil and oregano to the soup.

  “My mother wants to attract a younger clientele. The young moms whose kids are learning to be environmentally responsible. They recycle in the classroom and want their school lunches to be packed in reusable containers.” Cassie took a large sip of wine.

  “I guess it could work, though I don’t see them trading their alligator boots for Keds.” Aidan shrugged.

  “We’d have a counter where you could sample the produce, maybe even a chef who would demonstrate recipes using different vegetables,” Cassie said, excitement creeping into her voice.

  “You keep saying ‘we.’” Aidan put down his wineglass.

  “My mother thinks I’d be the perfect person to be in charge,” Cassie replied.

  “In charge of a food emporium? That sounds pretty demanding.” Aidan frowned. He put down his knife and sat on the stool next to Cassie.

  “Mother has wanted me to work at Fenton’s for so long. She’ll be sixty on her next birthday.” Cassie smelled Aidan’s aftershave. His navy shirt was unbuttoned and she could see the gray hair on his chest.

  “Fenton’s isn’t a child. It’s a department store,” Aidan said quietly.

  “What do you mean?” Cassie glanced at Aidan. Usually when Aidan sat so close to her, she could think of nothing but sex. She stood up and walked to the pantry.

  “Diana talks like Fenton’s is a baby that you have to take charge of when she retires. It doesn’t have to stay in the family, it’s not your responsibility.” Aidan’s eyes flashed.

  Cassie tried to keep her voice steady. “What if I want it to be my responsibility?”

  “Our marriage is your responsibility. Running this house, caring for Isabel when she’s here. Working at Fenton’s is a seven-days-a-week commitment.” Aidan took the loaf of bread from the pantry and cut it in thick slices. He stabbed a stick of butter and spread it on the bread.