The Seaside Café
Page 7
Graeme struggled not to let loose with a litany of profanity he was certain would shock the woman, only because he’d made a concerted effort to monitor whatever came out of his mouth after the unbridled argument with Jillian. It hadn’t mattered that his wife had goaded him relentlessly for weeks until he finally exploded with an expletive-laced tirade that ended with her storming out of the house and his life.
“I’m only going to say this once, Alma. This will be the last time you will ask me about my personal life.” A beat passed. “Now, what do you think of my idea of introducing another character?” In Alma’s former life, she’d been an editor for several best-selling writers until she tired of reading and editing manuscripts, and having to put up with petulant, egotistical authors who’d treated her as if she were their personal slave or valet. When her company offered her an incentive package to retire, she took it and transitioned from editor to agent.
“I think it’s a wonderful idea. Do you know who she is?”
Graeme smiled. “Yes. She’s a journalist for the Washington Post. She’s also separated from her wealthy husband, who has just initiated divorce proceedings, and when I introduce her to Zack, there’s definitely an attraction.”
“Where do they meet for the first time?”
“It will be at his favorite Starbucks. She orders a chai tea, and then sits at the table next to his to read the newspaper.”
“Does she soften him, Graeme? Because readers love him, even though Zachary is one hardnose, scary-ass dude.”
“She doesn’t soften him that much. But their interaction will allow readers to see another side of Zack’s personality, one he has kept hidden from them.”
“It sounds good. After you introduce her, send me the chapter so I can give you my feedback.”
“Thanks, Alma. Take care.”
“You, too.”
Graeme rang off and set the phone on a corner of the desk. Even though he’d gotten Alma to warm to his idea, he still had to work up a complete character dossier for his female protagonist. He had to decide on her name, then go forward from there.
It took several hours for him to create a personality for what would become a recurring character in the next two books in the series. He took a break to heat up two crab cakes he’d brought home from the Café. The crab cakes, potato salad, and cole slaw would sustain him until it was time for the evening meal. Whenever he went to the Seaside Café for dinner, he always ordered enough food to take home to last him for several days. Once he started writing, he’d spend long, uninterrupted periods of time at the computer, stopping at intervals to eat to keep up his energy, then going back and writing until exhausted. He’d learned that once he left the house, his creativity deflated like someone letting the air out of a balloon.
Graeme completed the dossier and wrote the scene in which his new character appears on the page for the first time. He rarely included female characters in his books unless they were victims and only if they moved the plot forward. Zachary Maxwell’s widowed mother and divorced sisters were the only women he interacted with. And setting his home base in a small Maryland suburb close to DC, where he’d grown up, added authenticity to his character’s familiarity with the area.
He wrote and rewrote the scene until he felt comfortable enough to send it to Alma. Graeme knew his agonizing over every word and phase slowed his progress, yet he never felt comfortable moving on to the next scene or chapter until he was satisfied with what he’d written. His agent had accused him of being a perfectionist, and when he looked back, he realized he’d always been that way. His late mother had accused him of being too hard on himself, and it was only when he was older that Graeme understood that it had come from being abandoned at birth by a woman who’d given him away to a childless couple.
He was eight when his mother and father disclosed that they’d adopted him, and even at that age, he was so grateful for their love and protection that he’d become the good son who’d excelled in school and did everything to make them proud of him. His parents were gone, but his need to be the best hadn’t waned. It was what made Graeme Norris Ogden an excellent math teacher and a best-selling fiction author.
He reread the chapter for the third time, and then clicked the mouse and sent it as an attachment to Alma. Standing, Graeme rolled his head from side to side to relieve the tightness in his neck. Sitting for hours put a strain on his shoulders and back, and he made a mental note to call a sports club on the mainland to schedule a massage.
Graeme knew that if he didn’t leave the house, he would embark on a writing marathon and not stop until fatigue overtook him. He walked out of the study and into the bathroom to shave and shower before driving to the Café for dinner.
* * *
Kayana wended her way through the tables in the restaurant and out to the patio. It was the dinner hour, and she rarely shared a meal with the patrons, preferring instead to eat in the restaurant’s kitchen or her apartment. She found an empty table for two in a corner and sat down to wait. Unfortunately, she hadn’t turned on the air conditioning in the second story, and the buildup of heat was stifling, forcing her to sit outside until it dissipated.
“May I join you?”
She knew it was Graeme even before glancing up. She hadn’t seen him since Sunday. The week had been unusually busy, affording her little or no time to leave the kitchen. And once she’d finished making the sides for dinner, she promptly retreated to the apartment to get off her feet. She’d found herself dozing several times and had to force herself to get up or she would disrupt her sleep patterns. Although Kayana was not responsible for overseeing the kitchen for dinner, she passed the time going over the foodstuff inventory. It was a task she performed daily to ensure that they had the ingredients needed to prepare every dish on the menu. Soft-shell crabs were now a popular item, and they’d gone through two cases last week. Derrick had contracted with a Maryland-based fishery to clean and flash-freeze the crabs in dry ice and ship them to the restaurant within two days of removing the crustaceans from their traps.
“Of course. Please sit down.” He was casually dressed in a pair of tan walking shorts, matching deck shoes, and a white, short-sleeved golf shirt. The scent of his cologne wafted to her nose as he sat opposite her. Streams of waning sunlight filtered through the screen behind Graeme, creating a halo around his head and making it difficult for her to read his expression.
“It’s not often I see you at this time of day,” Graeme said as he spread a napkin over his lap.
Kayana smiled. “That’s because I rarely eat out here. I take most of my meals either in the kitchen or in my apartment.”
“That must get boring.”
“I’m used to it.”
“Have you eaten?”
She nodded. “Yes.” Kayana pointed to his plate. “I see you ordered the Korean barbecue.”
“I ordered it for the first time last week, and I’m ashamed to admit I overindulged. I plan to eat half and take the rest of it home.”
The Café had built its reputation on offering generous portions. “I must admit it’s one of my favorite dishes on the menu.”
“How did a basically seafood restaurant come to serve Korean barbecue?”
Kayana watched Graeme as he cut into the grilled soy and sesame short ribs. “I’d gone to New York City on vacation and visited several Asian restaurants because I’d heard people rave about Korean barbecue. The first time I ordered it, I was hooked, and I knew it was a dish that we had to add to the menu. The deliciousness comes from the marinade.”
Graeme chewed and swallowed the meat. “Everything you and your brother serve here is deliciousness. I can’t believe the two of you aren’t professionally trained chefs. By the way, why did your folks decide to open a restaurant?”
“My grandmother wanted to go to college to become a teacher but knew that wasn’t possible when my grandfather died from complications of diabetes. Meanwhile, her mother had started up a catering business in her home, m
aking desserts for weddings and dinner parties. Grandma Cassie began writing down her mother’s recipes, and once her mother passed, she used the money she’d received as the sole beneficiary from her insurance policy as a down payment on this place. My grandma put in eighteen-hour days to get the restaurant up and running, and once my mother was old enough to assist her, the Café had earned the reputation of serving some of the best soul and seafood dishes in the county.”
“Did your father work in the restaurant, too?”
Kayana’s expression changed, as a frown settled between her eyes. “My father didn’t want anything to do with the restaurant. He made his living as a housepainter, and when he didn’t have a job lined up, he would refuse to come in and help. My grandmother never liked her son-in-law. She felt he was lazy because he was content to earn just enough money to keep a roof over his family’s head. Grandma Cassie was superstitious about everything, including not marrying someone with the same last name.”
Graeme’s fork halted in midair. “Your mother and father are both named Johnson?”
She smothered a laugh when seeing Graeme’s eyebrows lift questioningly. “Yes. There was a running joke in the family that Mom did not have to change her name when she married Kenneth Johnson.” She sobered quickly when recalling her parents’ arguments. “Mom was the stronger of the two in the marriage and made more money than Dad, which became a source of contention between them. He claimed it made him feel like less of a man. He was so insecure that he’d pick a fight with my mother just to try and intimidate her. Apparently, he’d forgotten who he’d married, because Mom wasn’t taking it. They finally divorced the year I celebrated my eleventh birthday, and it was as if everyone in the house could finally exhale.”
“Did he or your mother ever remarry?”
“Dad did, but my mother claimed once was enough. Now that she’s hung up her apron and spatula, she lives for her grandbabies, who can do no wrong.”
A hint of a smile lifted the corners of Graeme’s mouth. “Are your children included in her spoiler fest?”
A cold knot formed in Kayana’s stomach as she met Graeme’s steady gaze. Those in her and James’s Atlanta’s social circle were aware of her inability to have a baby, and there were occasions when she’d imagined their silent pity whenever she had to interact with those who had children.
“No,” she said after an uncomfortable pause. “I can’t have children, and please don’t look at me like that.”
Graeme set down his fork, touched the napkin to his mouth, and then leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “What are you talking about?”
“You were looking at me like poor little Kayana.”
“Do you have the ability to read minds?”
“No. But—”
“But nothing,” he said, cutting her off. “You don’t know what I’m thinking, and if you did, then you’d know it’s not pity or even sympathy. Do you think because you can’t have children that you’re less of a woman?”
“No.”
“If that’s the case, then why are you so defensive?”
“I wasn’t being defensive, Graeme, and I resent you saying that I am.”
Pushing back his chair, Graeme stood and picked up his plate and place setting. “I’m sorry I intruded on you. Have a good night.”
Kayana watched as he turned on his heel and retreated inside the restaurant. She knew she hadn’t imagined his expression when she’d revealed she couldn’t have children. She’d heard Graeme’s slight intake of breath at the same time he went completely still. Had her revelation hit a nerve, or had she reminded him of someone who had been unable to give him a child?
She sat at the table, watching the sun sink lower and lower beyond the horizon until it disappeared altogether, taking with it a display of orange and violent streaks against the darkening sky. She lost track of the time as diners left the patio, leaving her totally alone. Kayana blamed herself; she had broken her own promise not to get involved with any of the vacationers who frequented the restaurant. Long-time residents knew her, had watched her grow up and leave for college. She’d come back while on vacation to visit and to support her family whenever they buried a loved one. And when she came back the last time, it was to stay. She told those who’d asked that she was divorced and did not volunteer any additional details. The busboy came out to collect dishes and silverware at the same time she got up and went inside.
She hadn’t taken more than three steps when her brother called her. “Hey, Kay, there’s someone on the phone asking for you.”
“Who is it?” She rarely received calls at the business number.
Derrick slung a towel over his shoulder. “I didn’t ask.”
Kayana gave him a withering glare. “Well, you should have,” she said under her breath as she picked up the receiver. “Hello.”
“I need to explain to you why I left.”
She turned her back when she saw Derrick staring at her. She wasn’t about to carry on a conversation with a man with her brother listening to every word that came out of her mouth. Picking up a pen, she reached for the pad where they jotted down takeout orders. “Please give me your number, and I’ll call you back.” Kayana wrote Graeme’s number on the pad and then tore off the page. “I’ll talk to you later.”
“What was that all about?” Derrick asked.
“Nothing.”
“It has to be something if the man’s calling you, Kay.”
She gave him a fixed stare. “Everything’s okay, Derrick.”
“If you say so.”
“I do,” Kayana said over her shoulder as she walked in the direction of the staircase leading to the second story. As far as she was concerned, there was no need for Graeme to explain his actions; however, she would be polite and listen to what he had to say.
When she opened the door to the apartment, she was met with a blast of frigid air. It hadn’t taken the air conditioner long to dissipate the heat. Kayana adjusted the thermostat before going into the reading room and picking up her cellphone off a side table.
She’d missed a call from Jocelyn. She knew it wasn’t an emergency, because her sister tended to either text her or call the restaurant’s phone if she needed to contact her right away, and Kayana decided she would return the call after talking to Graeme.
Kayana sank down in her favorite chair and dialed his number; he picked up after the second ring. “I’m returning your call.” Her voice was shaded in neutral tones.
“I’m calling to apologize if you thought I was being rude, but I thought it best that I leave before we began arguing.”
“What makes you think our difference of opinion would have developed into an argument?”
“There was always the possibility that it may have escalated into one. The last memory I shared with my late wife was a nasty argument, and since then I’ve sworn an oath to walk away before I’d say something I would live to regret for the rest of my life.”
Graeme’s explanation rendered Kayana temporarily mute. The seconds ticked until they became a full minute. “I’m sorry, Graeme.”
The apology sounded so clichéd that she was at a loss for words. When Derrick had said that Graeme wasn’t married, she’d assumed he was probably divorced or a confirmed bachelor. His status as a widower had never entered her mind.
“You don’t have to apologize. I just wanted you to know why I did what I did.”
A smile found its way through Kayana’s pained expression. “Now that we’re into true confessions, I want you to know that I’ve made it a practice never to get involved with any of the restaurant’s guests. Not only did I tell you about my family, but I’ve also committed to a summer book club discussion with two other seasonal visitors.” When she’d told Leah and Cherie that she didn’t have any children, they hadn’t asked for an explanation, and for that she was grateful.
“Are you saying we’re involved with each other?”
Pinpoints of heat flooded Kayana’s
face. It was obvious from Graeme’s query that he’d misconstrued her use of the word involved. “Not in the romantic sense, Graeme.”
A chuckle caressed her ear. She opened her mouth to ask him what was so funny, and then closed it just as quickly because she didn’t want him to again accuse her of being defensive. But she had to admit that taking a defensive stance was something that had become second nature to her whenever she felt challenged. Her mother asked her why she’d let James have the house after she’d spent years decorating it so his slut could move in. Jocelyn had been just as relentless when she accused her of being a coward for not confronting the woman who’d been sleeping with her husband. At that time, it had been easier for her to walk away with her dignity intact than to stay and fight. What her family did not know was that she’d held all the cards because James hadn’t wanted a scandal to besmirch his family’s good name. When he’d asked her what she wanted, Kayana quoted a settlement figure she’d assumed would shock him, and much to her surprise, he’d agreed to her request. She didn’t know where he’d been able to come up with that amount of money, but it hadn’t been her concern.
“Okay. What about friends?”
She smiled. “Friends who discuss books?”
Graeme chuckled again. “Of course.”
“By the way, our book club selected Kindred for our first discussion, and Pride and Prejudice the following week.”
“You like Jane Austen?” Graeme asked.
“I love Jane Austen.”
“Are you familiar with the movie theater in Shelby?”
“Of course. They feature a lot of black-and-white and classic movies,” Kayana said.
“A couple of days ago, I picked up one of their flyers. This summer they’re showing films that are adapted from books. They’re showing the original Les Misérables with Frederic March, The Hunchback of Notre Dame with Charles Laughton, Dumas’s The Count of Monte Cristo, several Jane Austen films, and Emily Brontë’s Wuthering Heights, just to name a few.”
“I can’t believe they’re showing all of my favorites.”