Summer by the Sea Read online

  This summer Rosa Capoletti is about to rediscover the pleasures of love and laughter, food and wine, friendship and romance…

  With a little determination and a lot of charm, Rosa Capoletti took a run-down pizza joint and turned it into an award-winning restaurant that has been voted “best place to propose” three years in a row. For Rosa, though, there has been no real romance since her love affair with Alexander Montgomery ended without explanation a decade ago. But guess who’s just come back to town?

  Reunited at the beach house where they first fell in love, Rosa and Alexander discover that the secrets of the past are not what they seem. Now, with all that she wants right in front of her, Rosa searches for happiness with the man who once broke her heart—and learns that in love, as in life, there are second chances.

  Praise for Susan Wiggs

  and Summer by the Sea

  “Susan Wiggs writes with bright assurance, humor and compassion.”

  —Luanne Rice

  “[Wiggs’s] keen awareness of sensory detail ensures that the scents and sounds of Rosa’s kitchen are just as palpable as the heady attraction between the protagonists.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “Wiggs is one of our best observers of stories of the heart. She knows how to capture emotion on virtually every page of every book.”

  —Salem Statesman Journal

  “This is the perfect beach read.”

  —Debbie Macomber

  “Susan Wiggs paints the details of human relationships with the finesse of a master.”

  —Jodi Picoult

  Also by Susan Wiggs

  Contemporary Romances

  Home Before Dark

  The Ocean Between Us

  Summer by the Sea

  Table for Five

  Lakeside Cottage

  Just Breathe

  The Goodbye Quilt

  The Bella Vista Chronicles

  The Apple Orchard

  The Beekeeper’s Ball

  The Lakeshore Chronicles

  Summer at Willow Lake

  The Winter Lodge

  Dockside

  Snowfall at Willow Lake

  Fireside

  Lakeshore Christmas

  The Summer Hideaway

  Marrying Daisy Bellamy

  Return to Willow Lake

  Candlelight Christmas

  Historical Romances

  The Lightkeeper

  The Drifter

  The Mistress of Normandy

  The Maiden of Ireland

  The Tudor Rose Trilogy

  At the King’s Command

  The Maiden’s Hand

  At the Queen’s Summons

  Chicago Fire Trilogy

  The Hostage

  The Mistress

  The Firebrand

  Calhoun Chronicles

  The Charm School

  The Horsemaster’s Daughter

  Halfway to Heaven

  Enchanted Afternoon

  A Summer Affair

  Look for the newest Lakeshore Chronicles novel

  Starlight on Willow Lake

  coming soon from MIRA Books

  SUSAN WIGGS

  Summer by the Sea

  Dear Reader,

  They say you never, ever forget your first time. It’s one of those “aha” moments when the world shifts, and afterward, nothing is quite the same.

  And for me, that moment happened in a bookstore in Texas, circa early 1980s. That was where I discovered romance novels. I always knew I would write; that was clear from the time I learned to talk. But as an emerging novelist, I hadn’t found my “voice” as a writer. Fresh out of graduate school, I had been trying to figure out what sort of book I longed to write—a literary masterpiece, a dark thriller, a shoot-’em-up Western?

  To be honest, the reader in me was ready for a fabulous, sweep-you-away novel to give my brain a vacation. A book called Shanna by Kathleen Woodiwiss, with a tangerine cover and lush, sexy illustration, jumped off the shelf and into my cart. I dove right in and didn’t come up for air until I’d savored every thrilling word.

  But by the end of the first chapter, I had an epiphany. This was the sort of book I was yearning to write. I wanted to take the reader on a fabulous journey filled with love, adventure, danger, heartfelt emotion and pulse-pounding passion. Not long afterward, my first novel was published, and it was filled with—you guessed it—all of the above.

  Summer by the Sea has everything I was looking for that day so long ago. There’s a lonely young woman who still dreams of the boy who stole her heart, a nostalgic beach restaurant offering delicious shore dinners (recipes included), and an emotional ride filled with laughter and tears. I’m thrilled that it’s available again, because it’s one of those books that has been sprinkled with fairy dust from the very start, thanks to readers. It’s been a national bestseller and a winner of the RITA® Award for Best Contemporary Romance. It’s been translated around the globe, and now it’s heading right back where it belongs…into the hands of my favorite people in the world…readers like you.

  Happy reading,

  Susan Wiggs

  www.SusanWiggs.com

  In memory of Trixie, beloved companion, faithful friend.

  Contents

  Part One: Antipasto

  Caponata

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Ciambellone

  Part Two: Insalata

  Romaine and Gorgonzola Salad

  Five

  Six

  Ricotta Cheese Sugar Cookies

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Part Three: Minestra

  Pasta Fazool

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Cioppino

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Lasagne Magro

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Caffe Frangelico

  Part Four:Pasta

  Penne Pasta

  Twenty-Two

  Twenty-Three

  Spaghetti alle Vongole

  Twenty-Four

  Twenty-Five

  Rosemary Lemonade

  Twenty-Six

  Twenty-Seven

  Twenty-Eight

  Twenty-Nine

  Thirty

  Part Five: Entrata

  Pesce alla San Nicola

  Thirty-One

  Thirty-Two

  Thirty-Three

  Thirty-Four

  Thirty-Five

  Savory Frittata

  Thirty-Six

  Thirty-Seven

  Thirty-Eight

  Thirty-Nine

  Forty

  Forty-One

  Forty-Two

  Part Six: Dolci

  Torta Crema

  Cream Cheese Icing

  Forty-Three

  Pasta with Garlic Scapes

  Acknowledgments

  Reader's Guide

  Questions for Discussion

  Excerpt

  part one

  ANTIPASTO

  Antipasto: The Italian word for a snack served before a meal. These ar
e dishes to pique the appetite, not quench it. Antipasto literally means “before the meal.” Mamma used to say it was the anti-noise course because my brothers, Robert and Sal, would be so busy stuffing their faces that they’d forget to complain about being hungry.

  Caponata

  This has an excellent flavor and makes a very nice presentation on a perfect leaf of lettuce, not that Robert and Sal ever gave a hoot about presentation. And it’s even quite low in calories, not that guys care about that, either. Serve this as a traditional antipasto with a good crusty Italian bread and a glass of chilled Pinot Grigio.

  Peel and dice an eggplant, toss with salt, put in a colander and drain for at least a half hour. Then heat up a heavy skillet and add 1/4 cup olive oil, a small onion, chopped, and a stick of celery, also chopped. Add the eggplant and sauté. Finally, add three chopped tomatoes, three minced anchovies, a pinch of sugar, 1/4 cup wine vinegar and a spoonful of capers (the best ones come from Pantelleria Island). If your family likes olives, add some of those, too, along with a pinch of red pepper flakes. Simmer for ten minutes. Cool, then store overnight in a glass container. For a smoother spreading consistency, you can whirl the mixture in the food processor, but don’t overdo it. Things that are too smooth lose their character.

  one

  Rosa Capoletti knew that tonight was the night. Jason Aspoll was going to pop the question. The setting was perfect—a starlit summer evening, an elegant seaside restaurant, the sounds of crystal and silver gently clinking over quiet murmurs of conversation. At Jason’s request, the Friday night trio was playing “Lovetown,” and a few dreamy couples swayed to the nostalgic melody.

  Candlelight flickered over their half-empty champagne flutes, illuminating Jason’s endearingly nervous face. He was sweating a little, and his eyes darted with barely suppressed trepidation. Rosa could tell he wanted to get this right.

  She knew he was wondering, Should I reach across the table? Go down on one knee, or is that too hokey?

  Go for it, Jason, she wanted to urge him. Nothing’s too hokey when it’s true love.

  She also knew the ring lay nestled in a black velvet box, concealed in the inner pocket of his dinner jacket, right next to his racing heart.

  Come on, Jason, she thought. Don’t be afraid.

  And then, just as she was starting to worry that he’d chickened out, he did it. He went down on one knee.

  A few nearby diners shifted in their chairs to look on fondly. Rosa held her breath while his hand stole inside his jacket.

  The music swelled. He took the box from his pocket and she saw his mouth form the words: Will you marry me?

  He held out the ring box, opening the hinged lid to reveal the precious offering. His hand shook a little. He still didn’t know for sure if she would have him.

  Silly man, thought Rosa. Didn’t he know the answer would be—

  “Table seven sent back the risotto,” said Leo, the headwaiter, holding a thick china bowl in front of Rosa.

  “Leo, for crying out loud,” she said, craning her neck to see past him. “Can’t you tell I’m busy here?” She pushed him aside in time to watch her best friend, Linda Lipschitz, stand up from the table and fling her arms around Jason.

  “Yes,” Linda said, although from across the dining room Rosa had to read her lips. “Yes, absolutely.”

  Atta girl, thought Rosa, her eyes misting.

  Leo followed her gaze to the embracing couple. “Sweet,” he said. “Now what about my risotto?”

  “Take it back to the kitchen,” Rosa said. “I knew the mango chutney was a bad idea, anyway, and you can tell Butch I said so.” She let Leo deal with it as she walked across the dining room. Linda was wreathed in smiles and tears. Jason looked positively blissful and, perhaps, weak with relief.

  “Rosa, you won’t believe what just happened,” Linda said.

  Rosa dabbed at her eyes. “I think I can guess.”

  Linda held out her hand, showing off a glittering marquise-cut diamond in a gold cathedral setting.

  “Oh, honey.” Rosa hugged Linda and gave Jason a kiss on the cheek. “Congratulations, you two,” she said. “I’m so happy for you.”

  She’d helped Jason pick out the ring, told him Linda’s size, selected the music and menu, ordered Linda’s favorite flowers for the table. They’d set the scene in every possible way. Rosa was good at things like this—creating events around the most special moments in people’s lives.

  Other people’s lives.

  Linda was babbling, already making plans. “We’ll drive over to see Jason’s folks on Sunday, and then get everyone together to set a date—”

  “Slow down, my friend,” Rosa said with a laugh. “How about you dance with your fiancé?”

  Linda turned to Jason, her eyes shining. “My fiancé. God, I love the sound of that.”

  Rosa gave the couple a gentle shove toward the dance floor. As he pulled Linda into his arms, Jason looked over her shoulder and mouthed a thank-you to Rosa. She waved, dabbed at her eyes again and headed for the kitchen. Back to work.

  She was smiling as she crossed the nonskid mat and entered the kitchen through the swinging doors. Quiet elegance gave way to controlled chaos. Glaring lights and flaming grills illuminated the crush of prep workers, line cooks and the sous-chef hurrying back and forth between stainless steel counters. Waiters tapped their feet, checking orders before stepping through the soundproofed doors that protected the serenity of the dining room from male shouts and clattering dishes.

  The revved-up energy of the kitchen was fueled by testosterone, but Rosa knew how to hold her own here. She walked through a gauntlet of aproned men with huge knives or vats of boiling water, pivoting around each other in their nightly ballet. A stream from a hose roared against the dishwashing sink, and hot drafts from the Imperial grill licked like dragon’s breath at precisely 1010°F.

  “Wait,” she said as a prep worker passed by with a plated steak that had been liberally sprinkled with tripepper confetti.

  “What?” The worker, a recent hire from Newport, paused at the counter.

  “We don’t garnish the steaks here.”

  “Come again?”

  “This is premium meat, our signature cut. Serve it without the garnish.”

  “I’ll remember that,” he said, and set the plate on the counter for a server to pick up.

  She planted herself in front of him. “Go back and replate the steak, please. No garnish.”

  “But—”

  Rosa glared at him with fire in her eyes. Don’t back down, she cautioned herself. Don’t blink.

  “You got it,” he said, scowling as he returned to the prep area.

  “Well?” asked Lorenzo “Butch” Buchello, whose fresh Italian cuisine was drawing in patrons from as far away as New York and Boston.

  “Yep.” Rosa grinned and selected a serrated knife from the array affixed to a steel grid on the wall. “Went down on one knee and everything.”

  Neither of them stopped working as they chatted. He was coordinating dessert while she arranged fluffy white peasant bread in a basket.

  “Good for them,” said Butch.

  “They’re really in love,” Rosa said. “I got all choked up watching them.”

  “Ever the incurable romantic,” Butch said, piping chocolate ganache around the profiteroles.

  “Ha, there’s a cure for it,” Shelly Warren cut in, whisking behind them to pick up her order.

  “It’s called marriage,” Rosa said.

  Shelly gave her a high-five. She had been married for ten years and claimed that her night job waiting tables was an escape from endless hours of watching the Golf Channel until her eyes glazed over.

  “Hey, don’t knock it till you’ve tried it, Rosa,” said Butch. “In fact, what about that g
uy you were dating—Dean what’s his name?”

  “Oh, actually, he did want to get married,” she explained.

  Butch’s eyes lit up. “Hey! Well, there you go—”

  “Just not to me.”

  His face fell. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

  “It’s all right. He joins a long and venerable line of suitors who didn’t suit.”

  “I’m starting to see a pattern here,” Butch said. He took a wire whisk to a bowl of custard and Marsala, creating an order of his famous zabaglione. “You run them off and then say they didn’t suit.”

  She finished up with the bread baskets. “Not tonight, Butch. This is Linda’s moment. Send them a tiramisu and your congratulations, okay?”

  She headed back to the dining room and went over to the podium, which faced the main entrance. It was a perfect Friday night at Celesta’s-by-the-Sea. All the tables in the multilevel dining room were oriented toward the view of the endless sea, and were set with fresh flowers, crisp linens, good china and flatware.

  This was the sort of scene she used to dream about back when the place was a run-down pizza joint. Couples danced to the smooth beat of a soft blues number, the drummer’s muted cymbals shimmering with a sensual resonance. Out on the deck, people stood listening to the waves and looking at the stars. For the past three years running, Celesta’s had been voted “Best Place to Propose” by Coast magazine, and tonight was a perfect example of the reason for its charm—sea breezes, sand and surf, a natural backdrop for the award-winning dining room.

  “Did you cry?” asked Vince, the host, stepping up beside her. They’d known each other since childhood—she, Vince and Linda. They’d gone through school together, inseparable. Now he was the best-looking maître d’ in South County. He was tall and slender, flawlessly groomed in an Armani suit and Gucci shoes. Rimless glasses highlighted his darkly lashed eyes.

  “Of course I cried,” Rosa said. “Didn’t you?”

  “Maybe,” he admitted with a fond smile in Linda’s direction. “A little. I love seeing her so happy.”

  “Yeah. Me, too.”

  “So that’s two of us down, one to go,” he said.

  She rolled her eyes. “Not you, too.”