Risking Ruin (9 page)

Chapter Sixteen

“You have to call me back right way.  Like immediately.  Like as in hang up on this message now and call me!,” shrieked Marisa into her phone.   She’d been back in her condo for approximately one minute.  Enough time to shove off her shoes, place the unexpected bracelet on her dresser, and yell at Siri to call Erica.

Marisa sat at the edge of her bed and stared at the bracelet.  Trip was right.  It was beautiful.  The five cabochons were held together by cast bronze rings.  The carved cabochons themselves were all unique.  The carvings were versions of a compass rose. She had no clue as to its age or other origins. She couldn’t fathom the effort of craftsmanship that had been spent in its creation in South America.  Now it lay on her cherry dresser in an old cotton warehouse converted into condos in Memphis, Tennessee.

She took a deep cleansing breath in and let the air out slowly, letting a hiss escape her lips.  Paul had bought her a few pieces of jewelry during their relationship.  They were all lovely, but each piece made its way to her after specific hints had been given.  One year, she’d even placed an antique cameo locket she wanted on hold, so Paul could go buy it later.  But to be surprised with such a thoughtful present, a present she couldn’t have picked better herself, by a man who was in so many ways a complete stranger, this was new ground.

Marisa stood up and smoothed the loosely-woven lavender alpaca throw that she kept at the foot of her bed.  Her bedroom was her secret garden of sorts.  The wallpaper was a delicate floral with birds and butterflies that she’d fallen in love with at Anthropologie.  After pondering the purchase for several months, she treated herself.  She’d even had the ceiling papered.  For the rest she’d trusted Erica’s judgment regarding the color and texture necessary to reclaim her bedroom in the wake of Paul’s departure.   Ryan had found the overtly feminine room off putting, but it wasn’t like he was hanging out in there beyond sex and sleep.  It was her hermitage from the tough and testosterone-filled world of lawyering.

As Marisa headed for her bathroom, the phone rang.   She lunged for it.  “Erica!,” she squealed.

“No, it’s your mom.  Is everything okay?”

“Oh yes, everything is fine.  Just thought it was Erica calling me back.”

“You two will always be teenagers with each other, won’t you?,” said Marisa’s mom, her voice filled with love and affection for Erica as well as her daughter.  “I’m sure you’ve got some big secrets to share, so I won’t keep you long.   Your dad and I wanted to see if you’re free to come for dinner and stay the night either tonight or Sunday, or both, if we could be so lucky.  It’s been nearly a month since we’ve seen you.  We know you’re busy, but we miss you.”

“Tonight works.  How I about I pick Dad and you up around five thirty and I treat us to Café Piazza on the square?  Will you make us reservations?  I think that Erica and I are probably headed out shopping this afternoon,” said Marisa, eyeing the dresses in her closet and finding all of them suddenly drab and unappealing.  “So, I can come straight to your place afterwards.  I do need to get back downtown after lunch on Sunday, though.”

“That sounds great.  Café Piazza is one of our favorites.  We were hoping you’d be able to spend all day with us Sunday.  Do you have a big Monday at work?”

“Not terribly big.  Just a client that I need to attend to,” said Marisa, knowing good and well she was telling her mom a little lie.  “Oh, hey, Erica is trying to beep in.  So, I’ll see you at your house around 5:30, and we’ll head to dinner from there?”

“Lovely, sweetie.  Have fun shopping. Say hi to Erica for me.”

“Bye, Mom. I love you.”

“Erica!”

“Are you okay?  What’s going on?,” replied Erica, her voice filled with concern that bordered on panic.

“I’m fine.  Everyone is fine.  I’m sorry if I worried you.   I was totally having a freak out moment.  I’m going to dinner with Trip tomorrow night.  On a date!,” Marisa squealed, bouncing up and down with nervous energy.

“Shut up!,” responded Erica.  “I need all the details, and this requires seeing your face.  I’m going to ditch the kids with either Josh or my mom and come to your place.   I need details!”

“No, I need an outfit!   I have zero idea what to wear and I really need your help.”

“Aww, sweetie, that is so cute.  But from what I’ve heard, you won’t need any clothes at all.”

“Really,” said Marisa, rolling her eyes.  “I need your help right this second, and you’re giving me grief?”

“Absolutely.  It gives me something to live for.  Now, how about Joseph’s?   I can meet you in an hour. We can have lunch first.”

“Okay, well, I’m not going to buy a four hundred dollar dress for a date.  So, what about meeting at Saddle Creek?  Between Anthropologie, Indigo, and J. Crew, there will be plenty of options.  Plus, you won’t have to leave your little bubble of Germantown.”

“Gag.  Saddle Creek it is.  I’ll see you at Mabel’s in an hour.”

“Perfect. I cannot believe he asked me out on a date!”

“I can.  You need to hold that thought though. I’ve got to get busy finding someone to keep the kids, and you’ve got to get out here!  I want the full scoop in person!”

Marisa showered and dressed in a flash, making sure to wear a strapless, plunging bra under her Saturday casual sundress just in case she settled on a dress with a challenging neckline.  She tossed some overnight clothes in a bag, thankful that she kept a set of makeup, pajamas, and other essentials in her childhood bedroom.  As she stepped in to her gold sandals, Trip’s present caught her eye.
Oh, why not
, she thought as she secured it around her wrist on her way out the door.

When Marisa arrived at Mabel’s, Erica was sitting at the counter, having staked out seats for them both in the crowded ice cream parlor.  Mabel’s was a Germantown institution – an old soda fountain that somehow survived the Great Depression.   Its walls were filled with photographs from Germantown’s earliest days.  It even had a penny gumball machine near the lone mechanical cash register.  Based upon its mint green, chrome, and white color scheme and the fact that only the prices had changed since her childhood, Marisa always felt like a time traveler when she ate at Mabel’s.

Marisa gave Erica a quick hug hello, hopped up on the single empty high stool at the counter, and gazed up at the black and white hand-lettered menu that dominated the wall behind the counter.

“Bet you’ll order a grilled pimento cheese and bag of chips, so don’t even kid yourself,” noted Erica, as she sipped a chocolate hand-dipped ice cream shake from a tall curvy glass.

“Chocolate shake.  Are we seventeen again?”

“Just don’t tell my kids I’m having my dessert before my lunch, and I’ll keep all of your secrets.”

“You’d better keep them!,” replied Marisa in feigned dismay with her eyes growing large.

“Deal,” said Erica, taking another large sip of her shake.  “So, tell me about the male model.”

“Can I at least get a Coke first?”

“No.  Stop stalling.  Start talking.”

“Okay.  I saw him on my run this morning.”

“Oh, dear God, is he stalking you?  Weren’t you on a run when you last saw him?”

“More like me stalking him.   I was being ‘I am woman, hear me roar’ this morning and finished up my run by taking my cool down in the neighborhood, which is what I used to do before the walk of shame incident.  You know, I wanted to reclaim my turf.  Not, and I repeat, not to check out Trip’s house.  Anyway, as I ran by he happened to be pulling out of his driveway.  He saw me, stopped me, and invited me in the house.”

“You didn’t!,” said Erica, visibly taken aback.

“No, I did not have sex with him this morning, thank you.  He gave me a PowerAde.   Apparently, I’d left my necklace at his house when I was there, and he wanted to give it back to me.  He invited me out to dinner and gave me this,” said Marisa slightly triumphantly, as she thrust her wrist into Erica’s face.

“What?,” screeched Erica, a little too loudly.  She immediately dropped her voice to a normal conversational tone. “He bought you jewelry?”

“That’s the thing.  He apparently bought it when he was in Chile last spring because he thought it was beautiful.  He said he gave it to me because he thought I’d like it.”

“Damn, he’s a charmer.  Just promise me that you won’t go pick out china patterns before you have an actual ring on your finger.”

“That’s not happening,” said Marisa as much to herself as to Erica. “He’s still a client, so you don’t need to worry.  Plus, he’s a flavor-of-the-month kind of guy.  Apparently he even gets bored with the companies he buys, and sells them off pretty quickly.  There isn’t any future.  We’re just having dinner.”

“If that’s your story, then I’m not going to question it.  My chicken salad should be up any minute.  If you want to eat anything before we go shopping for the perfect outfit for your ‘just dinner’ date, then I highly suggest you flag down a waitress.   Josh has the kids until noon.  Then my mom’s coming over to watch then until two, and I’m back on duty then.   You should come over.  Miri would love to play with you.”

“I’d love to play with her, too.   I’m taking my parents to dinner and spending the night in Collierville.  Let’s see how shopping goes, and if I can work in a playdate with Miriam, then I will.”

***

Marisa climbed in her car and headed to dinner with her parents.  Spending an hour playing dress up with Miriam was just what she needed to calm down.   Shopping with Erica had been therapeutic, but Marisa was still antsy about tomorrow night’s dinner, alternating between giddiness at the thought of what promised to be a romantic evening with Trip and worry about setting herself up for heartache by starting a relationship that had no future.

She pulled up in front of her parents’ two-story white clapboard farmhouse.  The house sat on the edge of a luxurious development that occupied what had been her family farm.   Her parents had sold the majority of the acreage in the early 2000s, before the real estate bust, but retained enough curtilage around the house to maintain a productive garden and a few chickens.   She knew her dad missed the Collierville of his childhood.  In fact, he had also grown up in the farmhouse.  When he finally acknowledged that Marisa wasn’t going to be a farmer or be likely to marry one, her parents made the hard decision to sell the land.  The old farm house still felt like home.

“Mom, Dad!,” called Marisa as she entered through the kitchen door.

“We’re in the living room,” her mom responded. Marisa dropped her light overnight bag on the linoleum floor next to the ancient kitchen table and set off in search of them.  “Sweetie,” said her mom, rising from the sofa to hug and kiss her.  “Did you and Erica have a good time shopping?  Find anything lovely?”

“I’m sure she did.  Everything about my Marisa is lovely,” grinned her dad, giving Marisa a bear hug and a kiss on the forehead.

Marisa plopped down on the leather sofa and curled her feet underneath her.  “We had an early lunch at Mabel’s and then browsed around Saddle Creek for a bit.  I stopped off at Erica’s house on the way here and played with Miriam.  She’s a trip.  She got out gobs of accessories and we had a fashion show.  Little girls are so much fun.”

Marisa’s mom looked down at her hands briefly. 
Crap.  I shouldn’t have mentioned Erica’s children.  I know how much she wants a grandchild.

“Anyway, Daddy, did you make us reservations at Café Piazza?”

“Yes.  For six o’clock.  I even skipped my afternoon snack so I’d have room for some chocolate cake.”

Marisa laughed.  Her father was an absolute rail.  He kept himself very busy with taking care of the circa 1900 farmhouse, tending the large garden year round, and working at the Co-Op.  If he was no longer a farmer, then he could at least still work with farmers.   Her mom on the other hand, looked every bit the farmer’s wife with a salt and pepper halo of hair and a certain softness to her body.

But looks were deceiving.  Marisa’s mom had worked as an insurance agent starting when Marisa was in middle school.   Marisa’s mom took over her family’s business when Marisa’s grandfather unexpectedly died, and with her friendly personality and relationships within the farming community, she had grown the business.   It was Marisa’s mom’s surprising business success that had allowed her parents to continue to live comfortably during lean farming years.  It was also how they were able to send Marisa to college and then law school.

“I’m going to have toasted ravioli.  I’ve been thinking about it all day.  Nothing beats their toasted ravioli,” mused Marisa.

“Well, enough talking about food.  Let’s shake a leg.  I’m starving,” said her dad, heading towards the back door.

***

They returned to the farmhouse after the sun had set. Marisa’s stomach was full, her thoughts were light, and she felt like she was a child again.  The last few fireflies of summer danced around the yard.  She couldn’t begin to number the many evenings she spent on the front porch, sitting on the swing and watching fireflies she’d caught in a glass jar.

“We saved the last ‘Dancing with the Stars’ to watch with you,” said her mom.  Marisa knew her parents loved ‘Dancing with the Stars.’  She didn’t mind it, but didn’t understand their fascination.  Nevertheless, this was love.  This was home.  She curled up on the brown leather sofa, pulled a soft throw across her lap, and invited her family’s ancient cat Virginia into her lap.  Marisa’s parents had welcomed the farm cat into the house sometime during Marisa’s second year at college and named it after Marisa’s school.  Virginia dozed, and soon Marisa’s father let out a loud snore from his favorite blue recliner. The show ended.  Marisa kissed her dad on his cheek, gave her mom a good night hug and kiss, fetched her bag from the kitchen table, and sleepily trudged up the stairs.