CHAPTER 2

Maria Made Good

IT was summer on the Cape. A time of magic and dreams, when sunburns could be healed with ice-cold beer and spicy crabs, and childhood romances would prove to be the basis for all others to come. 

The wind blew across the ocean, up the beach, through the saw grass and over the gardens into the open window of the breakfast nook. White embroidered curtains fluttered and danced against wooden restraints. The pages of a newspaper rustled, a small dog yapped and a coffee maker clicked then hissed on the counter. Though the gourmet kitchen was outfitted with the finest hi-tech steel appliances, the honey-glazed walls, terra cotta tiles and colorful pottery in glass-fronted cupboards made it feel warm and welcoming. 

A tan, wiry man in well-worn khakis and a dirt-smeared shirt peered into the kitchen from the mudroom. “Miss Chetta? I have news about the workers.” 

Maria Chetta entered the room holding a spiky plant attached to a piece of driftwood. From the center of the gray-green spikes, a long red flower bloomed, the tip changed color from red to blue to yellow. She was like the flower, exotically sturdy, a bright spot appearing from nowhere. With her jingling jewelry and swishing skirt she looked like a Spanish gypsy, the kind who told your fortune in the caves of Old Madrid. 

She looked at the man wringing his ball cap in his hands. 

“News, Santiago? I hope it is good news.” 

“There is a possibility–” 

“Santiago,” said Maria as she set the plant on the counter, picked up a pair of garden shears, “there is always possibility. What I need to know is if they cannot complete the job, can you find me someone who will?”

“Of course, Miss Chetta. That would be no problem.”

Maria smiled. “I knew I could count on you, Santiago. Now how is the fountain cleaning coming?”

Santiago spent the next few minutes telling Maria about the grounds of her estate, what had been done and what needed to be done. And when he returned to his work among the fountains, pools, gardens, sheds, garages and putting greens, Maria was left holding a Tillandsia Fuchsii, surrounded by silver appliances she knew nothing about.

It was all Stephan’s fault. He’d been her chef for so long, and it was more his kitchen than hers. His job was supposed to have been a temporary one. He would cook when the housekeeper went on holiday. But one summer the housekeeper didn’t return, and Stephan moved into Maria’s kitchen.

Maria worried about him. His relationships with the men in Provincetown, his trips to West Palm; he was anything but discreet. 

Somewhere in the large house, a phone rang, followed by a buzzing intercom. “Miss Chetta, you have a call. The gentleman wishes not to be announced, but asked me to say, ‘He is a friend from the old neighborhood.’ Shall I tell him you’re not available?”

Old neighborhood? Maria cleared her throat to calm the quaver in her voice. “I’ll take the call, Sonja. Thank you.”

“Very well. I’ll put him through.”

Maria dried her hands and picked up the phone. “This is Maria Chetta. To whom am I speaking?”

“So, it’s Chetta now? And ‘to whom?’ Well, well. Lou said you’d re-invented yourself.”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“Oh, Maria, sweetheart, this is not the time to play coy. But I’ll tell what it is time for. It’s time for that old saying to prove itself right. You know, the one: ‘Whatever goes around, comes around.’”

Maria closed her eyes. Her past came rushing back at her: James King’s gold teeth, Mama in the apartment with the secret closet floor, the backseat of Deluca’s Cadillac, and the lie she’d told that convicted an innocent man. 

“What do you want, Fast Eddie? And why are you calling me here?”

“Hey, if you don’t want to discuss this on the phone, I have no problem coming up there. Fact is, I’d love to get reacquainted. We still have unfinished business, you and I, don’t we?”

“I’m sure that won’t be necessary. Whatever business you need to discuss with me can be handled from a distance.”

“Yeah, maybe that would be best. I mean I wouldn’t want anything to mess up your perfect little life, now would I? I mean you have worked so hard for your fortune.”

She ignored the dig, as Fast Eddie Deluca continued. “And we wouldn’t want to disappoint the Angelina partners by rocking the boat now, would we? So, this is what I need from you...”

Maria closed her eyes and listened to the voice from her past as it threatened her future. How the hell was she going to get herself out of this—again?