3
As Marguerite headed home, a paper bag containing two morning glory muffins under her arm, she noticed the changing leaves. She loved fall for its bounty and the rich, colorful produce, but the season also reminded her that winter was on its way. Autumn was when her busy season ended and she had time. Time to peruse seed catalogs and get to the projects she’d been putting off for months. Not that she really had a lot of projects this year. She had kind of a restless feeling deep in her belly.
It wasn’t that she was jealous of Iris; on the contrary, she was so happy she couldn’t keep the grin off her face. Iris had always wanted children and for a while it seemed like motherhood might not be in the cards. She could still remember sitting with her sister considering likely candidates for artificial insemination. And then Geoff had moved to Hidden Falls and changed everything.
Maybe that was where the restless feeling was coming from, knowing that another year had passed her by. Marguerite was earthy in every possible way. She was also a sensuous woman, but unfortunately she had the worst taste in men.
During her year studying organic farming, she’d had many amazing experiences, but there were some bitter memories associated with her time abroad also. Mostly because of a guy named Timothy. Tim had been another budding organic farmer. She’d met him in Australia. At the time, he was the best-looking man she had ever seen or believed existed. A tall, lanky Aussie, she still remembered his bright blue eyes, and how they twinkled when they looked at her as though they shared some private joke. His blond, sun-bleached hair was permanently tousled as though he’d just rolled out of bed, and he’d sported sexy stubble all day long.
Only once she’d known him had she realized that he worked at his casual look. He had the body of a surfer, tanned and fit, and a joking manner that had quite literally melted the panties off her. Their affair had been intense and magical. Tim had made her believe in love as she’d never believed in it before. He’d promised to come home with her, and they’d made plans far into the night. They’d build their own farm together, he’d talked about marriage so that she could stay in Australia or he could come to North America. For three glorious, perfect months she had been deliriously happy, believing she had found the man of her dreams. And then, like all dreams, this one ended. And with a wake-up that had been painful and brutal.
It turned out she wasn’t the only woman he was seeing, the only woman he was making promises to. With a broken heart, she’d cried into a few beers too many in a local pub and one of the other girls she’d been working with said words that had stuck with her forever. “A man that good-looking, you’re never going to keep him on a leash. He’s like a gift, Darl. No woman can resist a man like that. You can’t really blame him. If you want a man who sticks, aim lower.”
So she’d hauled her broken heart back home with her along with a few very good skills she had acquired and she had retreated into her cottage and put her heart and soul into nurturing plants, creating new life in the form of heirloom tomatoes and sunburst squashes.
That was two years ago and she hadn’t had a serious relationship since.
She arrived home in a pensive mood. Ophelia was curled in the rocking chair on the porch and leapt down to wind around her feet meowing plaintively. She scooped the cat up, and while the little black and white body purred loudly in her ear, its body hanging over her shoulder, she entered her small cottage.
There were times when she would flip through Architectural Digest in a doctor’s waiting room or see a chic New York apartment in a magazine layout or on television and she would long for a moment for that sophisticated lifestyle. The sleek edges and a high-powered job and the wardrobe and everything that went with it. But, when she looked around her cottage and saw the decor that was more shabby than chic, the solid wood pieces she’d refinished herself, the comfy chintz couches and chairs, she felt at home in a way that a New York loft never would.
“Do I seem dull?” she asked the cat. Ophelia made a small sound like a burble which she took to be a yes. She filled a small bowl with food and freshened a dish of water and left her companion crunching happily. Marguerite walked to her computer. First she checked the restaurant orders for the upcoming week. But one email in her inbox jumped out at her: from Alexei’s Greek.
A sizzle of excitement coursed through her body just seeing his email address. The header was Juicy Tomatoes. In another man and in another context she feltjuicy tomatoescould be a bit of a sexy come on. With Alexei she knew he was referring to organic produce. Still, she eagerly clicked on the message. It said:
Dear Marguerite, I don’t think I have ever tasted tomatoes quite so fresh and rich flavored as the heirloom varieties you brought over today.
She was completely overwhelmed. For him to rave about tomatoes was praise that mattered to her. He was, like all good chefs, demanding and incredibly picky.
Of course, there weren’t enough to use in my regular Greek salads, so I devised a little something that I hope you’ll approve of. I called it Tomatoes Marguerite. It was a big hit with the food truck crowd and I sold out in about two hours. If you have any more of those tomatoes keep them coming. My customers love them. In fact, next time you come, stay a little longer and I will let you try out the dish. If you’re really good I might even share the recipe with you.
Alex
She sat staring at her computer screen. Then she read the message again. He had named a dish after her? She felt as though someone special had given her a precious gift. She could feel herself warming. She glanced around even though there was no one in the cottage but the cat who was fully occupied eating and then, as though she were doing a very guilty thing, she clicked on Alexei’s website.
Not for the first time.
She felt like an adolescent with a crush but she couldn’t help herself. Truth was, she was a grown woman with an adolescent crush! There weren’t many pictures of him on the site. Mostly pictures of the food truck, and information on hours and locations. There was a section for reviews and a bit about his philosophy of food. There were only three pictures where Alexei was clearly visible. In her favorite he was leaning out passing a plate of food to a customer. It was clearly not a professional photograph, but whoever had snapped the candid, no doubt a woman, had caught the beauty of Alexei. Marguerite drank him in the way a dying woman might drink from a clear cold stream in the middle of a desert. He was so beautiful. And he loved food the way she did.
A second photo showed him and his truck at a charity event, and the final picture was of him in Greece picking olives with an older man who vaguely resembled him. Obviously a family member. She allowed herself one more long, lingering moment staring at his pictures and then resolutely clicked out of his website. She wondered how many women in the greater Portland area or, for all she knew, women all over the world, indulged themselves in the same way, sneaking peeks at his website. That was the trouble with gorgeous men, everyone wanted them. Nobody knew that better than she did. Timothy had taught her the truth about beautiful men, that they couldn’t be trusted.
She responded to all her orders for the week and checked the weather forecast. The rain had worsened, but if the forecast was correct, they’d be harvesting again in three or four days.
She found herself staring blankly at her computer screen. Tomatoes Marguerite! He’d named a dish after her.
Iris was right, she was a woman in her prime. What she should be doing was dating. Not drooling over a man she could never have, but looking for one who would stick around and, even better, might stay faithful.
Dating.
She walked slowly back to her computer and pulled up a website. An online dating website. It wanted her to register right away, but before she committed herself, it did allow her to search. She put in her parameters: age, geographical area, and then she hit the search button. Rows of pictures of men came up. It was like a high school annual from hell. It went on and on and on, page after page of single men.
Marguerite didn’t like to rush into things. She let the idea settle the way she’d let a new crop settle. Give it time to root. She mulled over online dating while she attended a meeting on water conservation at the town hall. Her brother, James, the local sheriff was already sitting in the front row when she got there, so she settled beside him. She pushed her wet umbrella into her bag and whispered, “Great timing. A meeting about water conservation during a rain storm.”
“Thanks for coming anyway. I might have to leave early in case there’s flooding.”
She was home from the meeting by eight o’clock and as she flipped on lights in the quiet cottage, she made her decision.
Before she chickened out she picked up her phone and called her sister. “Iris, are you busy?”
