Brava, Valentine

“Thank you, ladies. I know you’ve lived with the same old, same old for all these years, but I couldn’t take another minute of it.”

I take in the beauty of Gabriel’s work while I remember the way things used to be.

“What’s that look?” he says to me. “That wistful thing happening on your face. What’s that all about?”

“Was I wistful?”

“Terribly.”

“Well, I was just remembering what it was. And I guess I had a moment of sadness.”

“Then we’ll put it back,” Gabriel says, not meaning it.

“No. I love it. I am embracing change and all that comes with it,” I tell him. “I think it’s magnificent, and I can’t thank you enough for doing all this work.”

Gabriel exhales, relieved. “I was so nervous.”

“Why?”

“Well, it’s your house.”

“It’s our house. You generously pay rent.”

“Better you get it than cousin Joey. He blows it at OTB on the horses. Besides, I’ve redone every rental I’ve ever lived in on this island, and why should this be any different?”

I roll back the gates on the windows in the shop, letting in the morning light. I’m about to sip my morning coffee when Bret sweeps into the shop. “I’ve got good news.”

Bret throws his valise on the worktable and opens it. “Or should I say: a great opportunity for you.”

“But we got the loan-I’ve already put the check in the bank. What could be better than cold hard cash?”

“I was in a development meeting with a group of investors that has come together to buy up companies on the cheap. This is the only good news in a recession-it’s a buyer’s market. Anyhow, I told them about you, and they’re interested in selling the Bella Rosa in their chain.”

“Who are they?”

“They’re a group that sells to major department store chains-like Neiman’s, Saks, and Bloomingdales.”

“I’ve heard of them,” I joke.

“They usually go for household name designers, but you’re an up-and-coming brand, at least, that’s how I pitched you. I showed them the samples and the portfolio, and they were very impressed. They wanted to know how far along you were in production.”

“Alfred and Roberta have been talking-they’re saying fall is a safe bet. We could have the order complete by then.”

“I want you to meet with them.”

“Absolutely.”

Bret sits down on the work stool and looks at me. “What happened to you?”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re different.”

“Me? Really?”

“Something changed,” he says.

“I had a love affair.”

“Who is the lucky guy?”

“Gianluca Vechiarelli. You met him.”

“But he’s in Italy.”

“He surprised me in Buenos Aires. And we had a great time-and then he surprised me again, when he broke up with me.”

Gabriel comes into the shop. “I know, I know. I’m up at the crack. Why? Because I’m on fire. Now that I’ve got the living room done, I’m doing the master bedroom. I have appointments at the D &D building-Scalamandre silk, by the bolt, on sale for a song. The only good thing about this economy are the deals.”

“What’s your vision for the master bedroom?” I ask.

“It’s go

“Whoever that is.” Bret smiles.

“I don’t have time to teach you.” Gabriel checks his pockets for his wallet and keys. He does this whenever he leaves the house. I know about Gabriel’s habits more than I would a husband, if I had one. “I’m tired of being the arbiter of taste for all those who know me.” He looks at me, then at Bret. “What’s wrong? I know why she’s sad”-he points to me-“but you?”

“I was about to tell Val when you walked in.” Bret sighs.

“You know it. You can always count on me.” Gabriel sits down on a work stool and props his face on his hand. “So?”

“Mackenzie and I are going through a tough time.”

“What’s the matter?” I ask.

“She’s not happy.”

“Buy her a bracelet,” Gabriel suggests. “Those suburban housewives love a diamond te

“She has one already,” Bret says.

“Make it sapphires. Very hot gemstone right now.”

I glare at him. “Bret is serious.”

“I don’t know what to do. I thought all marriages went through these periods-and you know, you work through it and come out the other side. But she’s not content to ride it out.”

“Is she leaving you?” Gabriel asks bluntly.

“No. But she wants us to go through counseling.”

“That’s the kiss of death.”

“Gabriel!” I could kill him.

“Well, it is. If you’re going to unload in front of a third party, you probably have hit the rocks.”

“Ignore him. Counseling will help,” I assure Bret.

“How do you know?”

“It saved my parents’ marriage,” I remind Gabriel.

“Mac’s parents weren’t so lucky. They went to counseling. Then they divorced.” Bret’s eyes fill with tears.

I reach out and place my hand on his. “Now, come on. This will all work out. She’s not going anywhere.”

“I really love her. And I love my girls. I can’t imagine having them grow up with divorced parents. I can’t fathom that.”

“Then you work it out,” Gabriel says. “People hit snags every day…” He looks at me.

“And they bounce back,” I reassure Bret.

“Thanks guys,” Bret says. “I just didn’t see my life going this way. I thought we were better than this.”

“Trouble doesn’t know a stranger,” Gabriel says. “My grandmother used to say that in Italian, but I can’t remember how it went-but that was the gist. Bad times visit all of us. Just as sure as they come, they will go.”

“Thanks, Gabe.” Bret turns to me. “I’ll call you later.” Bret snaps his valise shut and goes.

We sit in the early morning quiet of the shop for a long while. Gabriel reaches across the worktable and takes a sip of my coffee. “You realize that out of everybody we know, we have the only marriage that’s working.”

“That’s because I give you free rein with the decorating.”

“Uh-huh,” Gabriel agrees.

“And I’m grateful for your cooking.”

“That’s true.” Gabriel looks off, out into the early morning light, and thinks. “And you know why we’ll last a lifetime and beyond?”

“I have no idea.”

“Because we have never ever had sex, and we never ever will. Our relationship is the most satisfying of all because we will never disappoint each other.”

I stand back from the mirror as June models the gift I bought her in the Palermo barrio in Buenos Aires. The box I sent from the hotel finally arrived. In the age of texting, old-fashioned mail seems to take a lifetime to reach its destination. “What do you think? Handmade.”

“I am loving this!” June buckles the low-slung belt of braided leather with a hammered silver belt buckle low over her tunic. She turns to see the view from the back in the mirror. “Is this sexy or what?”

“Very sexy on you.”

“You know, I’ve never been to South America. All my travels, and I never went there. I did Mexico. And a soft-spoken Mexican named Gordo.”

“So many countries, so little time.”

“And now I’m old. That bus is parked permanently. The battery is dead. And I can’t remember where I put the jumper cables.”

“I doubt that, June.” I pour a cup of coffee for June, and then one for me. “How do you think Alfred is doing?”

“I believe the affair has ended,” June says.

“Good.”

I have been playing catch-up in the shop for most of July and August. I haven’t had an in-depth conversation with my brother. We have so much to sort out about the business that Kathleen’s name has barely come up. “I think my brother realized what he had at home.”

“Maybe he did. You know, I’ve had a married man here and there. And there’s laws of the jungle where they’re concerned. Now, I say this as a free, single woman who was once upon a time involved with a married man-or twice upon a time, back in the day, and I’m not particularly proud of that. But in the case of a fella named Bob DuPont-not those DuPonts, I’m never that lucky-I learned from him that a married man doesn’t want to see himself as someone who is out there looking just for sex, even though the point of having an affair is sex, it’s exactly what you’re looking for. But we’re intellectual animals, and we like to think that there’s something more involved than the dovetailing of two libidos. But when the sex wanes-and it always wanes, honey, trust me-you have to justify the time spent. So you have a few di