The Merchant of Venice Beach (27 page)

Eric looked at her. She knew him too well not to know she had surprised him . . . and it wasn’t that she’d overheard him. Her heart sank.

“You . . . you weren’t talking about the party, were you?”

Eric shook his head. Suzanna walked over to the table and lowered herself into a chair.

Whatever he has to say, I deserve it.

“I’ve been offered a job back in Napa when I get my degree. I didn’t want to tell you until after your birthday. I didn’t want to ruin the day for you. I’ve decided to take it.”

“Is it because you want to be with Carla?”

Eric slammed the table and stood up. Suzanna could see his muscles tensing under his shirt as he paced the room.

“No, damn it. Not because I want to be with Carla. That’s ancient history—to everybody but you.”

“So it’s not because of Carla?”

“No, Suzanna, it’s because of you.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you. When I found out you were taking those . . . stupid dance lessons . . .”

“Oh. Yeah. Andy told me he told you guys about that.”

“Andy didn’t have to tell me! I’ve known for months.”

Months?

“You used the wrong credit card at the dance studio. So, I got the bill.”

Suzanna looked down at the table, ashamed. Now that it was all behind her, she realized how silly she had been. And she could tell by the sound of things that it was too late to fix it.

“I waited and waited for you to tell me. Dancing isn’t a crime,” he continued. “I mean, what’s so important about dance lessons that you had to hide them?”

“I . . . I just wanted some space.”

“Well, congratulations, now you’ve got it.”

“But I don’t want it any more. I want things to go back the way they were.”

“They can’t,” he said, grabbing both sides of the table and glaring into her eyes. His voice softened. “They can’t.”

She watched Eric as he turned his back on her and left the shop. Suzanna wandered around the room. She shook a few of the tables. Not one of them wiggled.

I better put that shim back under the bookcase. I’m already in enough trouble.

She took down the “Happy Birthday, Suzanna” banner, gently folding it and putting it next to the cake. She walked into the hallway that separated the tea shop from the bookstore. She could see a light coming from the back office. Eric must be in there. She hesitated, wanting to see him, but decided he had said all he had to say. She climbed the stairs to the Huge Apartment. Fernando’s bedroom door was open—he must still be out with his new partner. She looked down the other hall, to her room, where Carla was presumably already asleep; the door was old, and when the light was on, you could see it outlined in the doorframe. The door was dark.

Suzanna sat down at the kitchen table, took a deep breath, and listened. The entire building was silent. She couldn’t have had more space if she lived on the moon.

CHAPTER 22

Suzanna put a kettle of water on the stove. She opened the cupboard and looked at their vast selection of teas: besides the usual favorites, there were some new offerings, thanks to Fernando’s ever-reaching research. She chose gueifeicha—“concubine tea,” a current favorite of the household, thanks to the “green” nature of the tea . . . it was a pesticide-free, biologically grown oolong tea. Every step of the tea preparation stabbed at her like a knife. Signs of Fernando’s and Eric’s devotion were everywhere—from the tea she was drinking to Eric working away in the office at three in the morning.

She kept looking at the stairs, hoping Eric would come up, but there was no sign of him. All her rummaging around in the kitchen did wake Carla, however, who stepped sleepily into the kitchen. She sat at the table and put out her hand . . . their secret signal that she’d like some tea, too.

“I guess Eric was right; we shouldn’t have kept the tearoom a secret,” Carla said. “That was probably one of my worst ideas ever.”

“No, it was a great idea. I just was so self-absorbed, I ruined everything.”

“Yeah.”

“You don’t have to agree with me.”

“But I do. I agree wholeheartedly.”

“Do you know Fernando is leaving?”

Carla nodded. “And before you say anything,” she said, “I didn’t try to lure Eric back to Napa.”

“I didn’t think you did.”

Carla gave Suzanna a look that she’d been using since they were six. It said, Who do you think you’re kidding?

“Okay, I’m too tired to debate this, anyhow.”

“Suzanna, you just really blew it, you know.”

“Hey, lighten up. It’s my birthday!”

“Truly yesterday’s news, girlfriend.”

Suzanna put her head on the table and rolled it from side to side.

“I can’t believe they’re leaving me,” Suzanna said, her head still on the table.

“Well, I hope last night was worth it.”

“It totally wasn’t! I’ve blown my life apart for one night of creepy foreplay.”

“Eeewww.”

“You have no idea. And to top it all off, he was a talker.”

“Too much detail, Suzanna. Seriously.”

They both groaned.

“Listen, Suzanna, this is none of my business, but . . .” Carla reached out and squeezed Suzanna’s arm. “. . . that’s never stopped me before, so here goes.”

Suzanna stopped rolling her head and waited. When Carla didn’t say anything, she put her head up and looked at her friend, who was wiping away a tear.

“I’ve waited all these years for you to figure it out, but you never did. I was selfish and should have told you sooner. I don’t know why I didn’t. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Wait! Wait! What? I don’t understand.”

“When Eric and I broke up in high school, it was because. . . .”

“I am SO listening . . . go on.”

“It was because he said he was in love with you.”

“What?”

“I know . . . I know . . . I should have told you, but I thought if I told you, I would never get another chance. But I respected his wish and nothing. . . . I swear . . . nothing has happened between us in all those years.”

Suzanna couldn’t stop it. She started to swell and floated up to the ceiling. Carla continued to talk to her empty chair as if nothing were happening.

“I know you think Eric is coming back to Napa to be with me . . . and it isn’t true. He’s still in love with you.”

Pop! She was back in her chair.

“What?”

“He’s still in love with you.”

“He told you that?”

“He didn’t need to tell me. . . . it’s been clear that you two have been in love with each other all this time. You’re just both two stubborn or too afraid of being rejected or ruining your friendship or whatever it is . . . to admit it to each other.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Please just say you’ll forgive me—and that we’ll still be friends.”

Suzanna got up and poured more hot water into the teapot. It amazed her how clear her feelings were—first about Rio, now about Carla.

“Of course I forgive you. I mean, it’s not your fault that Eric and I never made a move toward each other.”

“But I was just being selfish.”

“Yeah, okay. You can beat yourself up about being selfish,” Suzanna said. “But I know you love me and Fernando as well as Eric. I can see it in every detail of the tearoom—and I haven’t even thanked you!”

The two women embraced. Suzanna, usually the emotional one, held her friend, who cried fifteen years’ worth of guilty, lonely tears. Suzanna knew what that felt like. Who was she to judge Carla?

“You need to go talk to him,” Carla said. “Make this right. Don’t wait another fifteen years.”

Suzanna nodded and started down the stairs, but turned back.

“Are you sure?” she asked Carla.

“Sure I’m sure.”

She tried again to head down the stairs.

“But,” she said, turning back to Carla. “He didn’t actually say he loved me. What if you’re wrong?”

“Suzanna, you said you wanted some change in your life. Isn’t this worth risking everything for? Think of the change. Just think.”

Suzanna took a breath and headed downstairs one final time. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. She had to admit, she looked like hell. But if she had a chance at a future with Eric, she wasn’t going to miss another instant. She wasn’t sure exactly what she was going to say when she got to the office, but she was startled to find him standing in the middle of the bookstore when she opened the door, and she had no time to formulate a speech.

“You’re working late,” Suzanna said.

Eric flipped on the lights, tossing a harsh glare across the tiny bookstore.

“Well, I want to make sure everything is in order . . . now that you know I’m moving back home.”

Suzanna took his hand in both of hers.

“You are home, Eric.”

Suzanna could tell he was looking at her, but she couldn’t meet his eyes. She stayed focused on their hands. He slowly released his and walked away from her. She closed her eyes and bit a knuckle, trying not to cry. Praying that he wasn’t leaving the room. She could hear him walking around.

“Suzanna, I know you wanted to have some space to yourself. And I guess Fernando and I crowded you—but we didn’t realize you were unhappy.”

“I was just confused. You guys didn’t crowd me at all. Or, if you did, I liked it. I still like it.”

“No, you were right to try to carve out a place for yourself. We all get it. We all agree with you. A fresh start will be best for all of us.”

“Well, I think . . . I think we should all sit down and discuss it.”

Suzanna got up the nerve to face him. He was shaking his head.

“Fernando is dead set on going, Suzanna. You know how he is, once he makes his mind up.”

Suzanna squeezed the bridge of her nose with her thumb and index finger, willing herself not to cry. She couldn’t bear the thought of the tearoom without Fernando in it. He had been instrumental in every day of its existence. And now, with the remodel, she’d lost every bit of his influence. All she had now was a clean slate. She suddenly hated that they had redecorated. She wanted the old tearoom back.

“I guess we’ve all just been too scared to make any changes,” Eric said. “We always joked about you being the scared one who had to be talked into things, but you turned out to be the brave one.”

“I don’t understand what you mean.”

“Well, dancing lessons aren’t exactly on a level with saving the world, but you took a step, Suzanna. It shook us all up. We’ve got to move on. It’s time.”

“No, it isn’t,” Suzanna said. “I’ve tried it. Change is overrated. Really.”

“We can’t go back to the way it was,” Eric said. “I know I haven’t . . . stepped up to the plate. But that’s in the past now. I don’t blame you for hating me.”

“I don’t hate you,” Suzanna said. Eric was standing in the doorway leading to the hallway. He had one foot out the door. “I . . . I love you.”

“Could you repeat that?”

“Forget it—saying ‘I love you’ is like a magician doing a trick. It loses something if you do it again. Your audience starts to see the cracks.”

“I don’t understand. Why are you telling me this now?”

Eric looked at her, and she saw so much pain and regret that she had to look away.

“I guess I can tell you because it doesn’t matter any longer. It’s all over.”

Suzanna suddenly felt she was falling. It was the opposite sensation to floating. The ground was shifting out from under her. She tried to steady herself. She reached out toward a bookcase. What was happening?

Earthquake!

The bookcase, the one she had forgotten to balance, started to fall. Eric tackled her, pushing her out of the way of the falling mass of splintering lumber.

She woke up in a pile of shelves and books. Eric lay still on top of her. She waited, afraid to touch him. She tried to reconstruct what had happened. The earth had been tilting. The bookcase had started to topple, and she knew it was going to crush her, but she was immobilized. Eric had been safe in the door frame, but had come back into the room to help her.

A sob caught in her throat as she felt him breathing against her rib cage. She shook a couple books off her right shoulder and reached up and stroked his hair. He groaned. She knew he was going to be fine. He was also going to be annoyed as hell that she’d taken the shim out from under the bookcase, but they could work past that.