Sea Glass Cottage

by Vickie McKeehan

  “I got it.”

  Later, Thane watched from the bathroom doorway as Isabella spent half an hour coating Jonah’s cherub face with a film of milky-colored grease paint. While his little boy disappeared before his eyes and slowly became a walking monster, Thane couldn’t help noting the easy way Jonah responded to Izzy.

  “I hope that stuff comes off,” Thane groaned as the paint began to cover up skin.

  “The label promised it would easily wash off with soap and water.” She hoped that was true. After smearing red tint in the form of drops at the corners of the boy’s mouth, she went to work on his hair. Using gel to make it stick up at the top, she sat back, turned him around to face the bathroom mirror. “There. How’s that look?”

  “I look…fierce. Don’t I, Dad?”

  “You look absolutely terrifying.”

  “What do you think, Izzy?”

  “You look like the scariest ninja turtle I’ve ever seen in my life or maybe a mad scientist. I’m not sure which.”

  “I do?”

  “Yep, you look positively ghoulish.”

  “Do I get to wear the fangs?”

  “Trust me, you won’t like wearing them because they make your mouth feel funny,” Thane told him. “But go ahead stick them in your mouth.”

  Sure enough, after five minutes having them clamped on his teeth, Jonah made a face and spit them out into Isabella’s hand.

  “We have to go. We have to. I’m meeting Tommy at the corner.”

  There was something about the little coastal town that had gotten Fischer Robbins to move three thousand miles from his beloved New York. It wasn’t simply the fact that he’d followed his friend to get here. No, there was more to it than that.

  While he and Madison manned Longboard Pizza shorthanded until Thane and Izzy showed up with Jonah, Fisch took the time to get to know the residents, one by one. Each neighbor who came in seemed to be genuinely glad they could get a freshly made pepperoni pizza. That appreciation translated into a friendliness it took years to build in other places, especially in and around Manhattan.

  Like all the other businesses in town, Longboard Pizza handed out candy to the kids.

  “Been busy?” Thane asked when they came through the door.

  “Swamped. How was the candy gathering?” Fisch asked the kid.

  “He scored big-time when he hit The Pointe. Perry gave out these giant-size chocolate chip cookies.”

  Jonah dumped his take on the counter and crawled up on one of the stools to go through his bounty. “Look at this, Uncle Fisch. I got a load of Snickers, not the little ones either but the regular size.”

  Thane peered over his son’s shoulder. “There’s enough sugar floating around to send cruise ship passengers back to port in diabetic shock. Dentists must love this time of year.”

  “Where’s Izzy?” Fischer asked.

  “The dogs were worn out so she headed home. Jonah wanted to show you his stash before bedtime or he would’ve gone with her. And no,” he said when he saw Jonah’s mouth start to pop open anticipating the boy’s plea. “No more candy or the cookie. It’s too late,” Thane added. “I’ll be sure to pack the cookie in your lunch tomorrow for dessert. That’s the best deal you’re getting this close to bedtime.”

  “Better take it,” Fisch counseled.

  “O-kay.”

  Relieved it would be his teacher’s problem at lunch the next day, Thane began to help bus the dining area. “Dump all that candy back in the sack, okay? It’s time to help clean up and get home to bed.”

  “Can’t I have just one more Snickers bar?”

  “What did I just say? No. You’ve already eaten one and one’s enough. Now go help Uncle Fisch count the change in the register. You can practice with the nickels and dimes and pennies while I gather up the trash.” He watched his son move to the back, head down, clearly disappointed. Thane shook his head, hating the idea of all the head-butting they’d do until all that Halloween candy was out of their lives.

  A couple days later, the first Friday night in November found Isabella and Jonah at home making their own fun while Thane headed to McCready’s for a rare night out and Troy’s bachelor party.

  Isabella had fixed hearty chicken nachos, made a huge bowl of popcorn, and brownies for dessert. Now, in the living room, Izzy set everything out and put in the DVD Lilo and Stitch. “You’ll love this one, it’s about a little girl who surfs, who thinks she’s found a dog, but it’s really an alien from a faraway planet who’s stuck on earth.”

  “Is it a girl movie?”

  “No, it’s a kid movie and you…” Isabella poked a finger in his belly. “Are a kid.”

  From the first roll of the credits she knew it was a good choice for Jonah. The music kept his attention up front and had him on his feet, hopping and swaying to the beat. But then she’d known that no one could sit through tunes with a Hawaiian bent and a series of Elvis songs, not even a six-year-old. In fact, she took his hand and they danced around the room to Burning Love, laughing at the silliness of Stitch playing guitar and surfing a wave. After several songs, they flopped down on the sofa, out of breath.

  “I think someone likes to dance,” Isabella noted.

  “Mimi liked to dance too.”

  “She did? She danced with you?”

  “Yep. All the time until she got sick.”

  “I’m sorry she died, Jonah. What was her favorite song?”

  “I don’t remember the name but it was some old song by this old group called The Bugs.”

  “You mean the Beatles?”

  “Yeah, that one.”

  “You miss her, Mimi?”

  “Yeah, she was the closest thing to a mom I had.”

  “You can talk to me about her anytime you want.”

  “I think it upsets my dad when I talk about Mimi.”

  “I’m sure that’s not it. Your dad just doesn’t want you to be sad. He wants all the best for you. Would you like to see if we can find your Mimi’s favorite song so you can dance to it before you go to bed?”

  “You’d do that?”

  “Sure. Let me get my iPhone and we’ll go through the music list together until we find the right one. How’s that?”

  “Super.”

  They went through at least twenty-five Beatle tunes before they hit on the right one.

  “That’s the one!” Jonah shouted when he heard the first notes of Here Comes the Sun. “Mimi used to sing it to me. Sun, sun, sun, here we come!” With that the boy sang and spun around the room in time to the music.

  They played it six times before Isabella decided it was time to get him ready for bed.

  “Aw, I’m having fun. Do I have to?”

  “’Fraid so, but why don’t we do this. I’ve downloaded it to my iPhone and you can listen to it after I read you a story until you fall asleep. How’s that sound?”

  “Okay, cool,” he said and went running off to change into his pajamas.

  Getting him ready for bed proved he had an imagination. He offered up several scenarios in order to stay up. But when she discovered he had a fondness for dragons and pulled out a rhyming book that he loved, the last surge of his energy waned. After reading the last words on the page, he put his head on her lap. “I like you, Izzy. You’re as fun as my dad.”

  She couldn’t help it. At the declaration, her heart felt like it flipped in her chest. “That’s such a nice thing to say, sweetie. You’re a lot of fun to be around.”

  “Will you sit here till I fall asleep?”

  “Sure.” And she did. It didn’t take long for him to wind down once he stopped talking. She couldn’t believe the boisterous boy with so much get-up-and-go earlier could be so still now. When her cell phone dinged, she stepped back into the hallway to take the call, a call from a concerned dad.

  “How’s everything going? Did you get Jonah to go down without a fight?”

  She laughed. “You are a worrywart. Bedtime was World War I all over again but this time wit
h dragons. Just kidding,” she added. “Jonah’s asleep and we didn’t wreak havoc all over the house to get there.”

  “I don’t know why I was worried.”

  “Neither do I. Now go have a couple of drinks with your friends. See you later.”

  “What will you do?”

  “Start that new romance novel I’ve been putting off. Now go.”

  “Thanks Izzy. I’ll be home in a couple hours.”

  “Go have fun. Take advantage of the night out.”

  After closing down Longboard Pizza, Thane walked into McCready’s with Fischer in tow to find the joint crammed with a rowdy Friday night crowd.

  Fisch took one look at the décor, the sign behind the long scarred mahogany wood that read “Drink More Beer” and stared at the giant of a man who owned the place. The ex-boxer and former Dubliner, Flynn McCready, stood behind the bar working the taps. The juke was cranked up—the Traveling Wilburys singing about going to the end of the line. “This place is every cliché there is known to man to describe an Irish dive except for maybe the blaring country.”

  “Yeah, that’s why I figured you’d love it.”

  “Thanks, makes me feel right at home.”

  Thane waved to Troy and his group of friends—at least twenty guys he recognized—who were already drinking and shooting pool at both tables. He could hear the smack and roll of the balls, make out a few of the good-natured ribbing that flew back and forth between players.

  “You’re buying the first round,” Fisch reminded him.

  “Why me?”

  “Because you’re the one getting laid regularly.”

  “I knew you were jealous of that.” Thane returned.

  “I wouldn’t say jealous more like envious. Get me a Guinness will you? I see a little blonde over at the end of the bar. Those chimis of hers make me want to get to know her changas a whole lot better.”

  “You get lucky, drinks are on you,” Thane reminded him. He watched Fischer move through the crowd and waited for Flynn to fill the order for a round of brews. After loading up a tray with the mugs, he toted the beers over to his friends standing at the pool tables.

  “Hey, you showed up,” Troy said, stretching out his hand.

  “I said I would. Sorry if I’m late but I had to wait to close tonight, brought Fisch with me. Hope you don’t mind.”

  “Nah, the more the merrier. I’m not much of a drinker,” Troy said, leaning in. “But I admit I’ve had a few already tonight.”

  “A man about to tie the knot tomorrow deserves one last hurrah before taking himself out of the game for good.”

  Troy hooted with laughter. “Logan said almost the same thing. You ever been married, Thane?”

  “Not me. I’ve managed to avoid matrimony. Now Fisch, he’s gone that route before.”

  “He didn’t bring her with him to Pelican Pointe?”

  “God no. The marriage lasted about ten seconds. Oh, sorry. I don’t want to rain on anyone’s wedded bliss.”

  “That’s okay. Sometimes it happens. Logan’s first marriage didn’t work out either. He married one of those high-maintenance, narcissistic screamers.”

  “Huh, maybe Fischer and Logan hooked up with the same female? Count yourself lucky you didn’t.”

  “I do. Bree and I have so much in common.”

  “That’s a good start.” He glanced over, saw Logan and Nick edge up, both holding pool cues.

  Logan asked, “How about a little eight ball, Delacourt? We play teams, the two newcomers against the two of us?”

  Thane looked over at Fisch who was still standing at the bar, chatting up the blonde. “Fisch seems to be otherwise occupied at the moment.” He shot Troy a look, changing the roster. “What do you say, Troy, we take these guys on?”

  “Rack ’em up,” Troy said, putting down his beer. “These guys are toast.”

  “I’ll break,” Nick offered.

  For the next two hours Thane and Troy won three games in a row from the banker and the artist. From there the team took on all comers.

  After Troy banked another shot, he sipped his beer. “All that hanging out here waiting for Bree to get off work must’ve paid off. And you…? You’re smooth as glass.”

  “I played in this bar when I was underage,” Thane said, tapping the solid red into the corner pocket.

  When Fisch finally wandered over to the group, he and Thane took on Cord and Ryder. The former army rangers proceeded to run the table.

  “You’re bad news, Robbins,” Thane grumbled. “Never switch partners in mid strike.”

  Ryder chuckled as he banked the next shot. “Cord and I’ve played together before in dives seedier than this.”

  “We had a long winning streak back in Georgia,” Cord boasted as he chalked his stick getting ready for the next challenger.

  “In case you haven’t noticed this ain’t Georgia.” Four young locales had sauntered over expecting to pass the time in their usual haunt, doing what they normally do when they normally do it. One of them, a tall, lanky fellow with tattoos all over his neck, couldn’t seem to keep his mouth shut. “How long you guys gonna be? ’Cause we’ve been waiting for almost an hour.”

  Earl’s pal, a thick-necked man with the same colorful tattoos, moved to stand at his friend’s elbow. “We don’t like to wait. That means it’s time for all you old guys to head back home to the wife and kids and let us get on with our game.”

  “Look, Earl, we don’t want any trouble,” Troy said. “This is my bachelor party tonight. Flynn knows we’ve been planning this for weeks. That’s why we got here early.”

  “Then Flynn shoulda said something. We come in here three times a week, regular like. This is our bar. Ask anyone.”

  Another one of Earl’s punks sidled up. “That’s right. Friday nights at this same time is our time. Go play in someone’s basement.”

  Nick lifted his mug, wondered how Jordan would react if he came home sporting a bloody nose. The idea didn’t prevent him from throwing in his two cents. “That so? Never known Flynn to take reservations before now, that’s a new one.”

  “That’s because he doesn’t. Never has,” Thane pointed out.

  “It’s first come, first serve. Everyone knows that,” Cord added taking up a position next to Thane.

  Troy set down his beer, moved over to where the others lined up. “That’s right. Been that way for years.”

  In the middle of calculating his next shot at the second table, Zach stopped what he was doing long enough to size up Earl and his friends. “I recognize you now. You’re the guys who come in here and like to give the waitresses a hard time.”

  The scruffiest of the lot, a man sporting a mile-long ponytail and beard, began clenching his fists in a show of strength. “What’s it to you who we give a hard time to?”

  Zach and Troy exchanged knowing looks but it was Troy who stepped forward. “We do. His sister, my girlfriend, worked in here five nights a week, carting trays left and right for the likes of you. Not only is your little posse used to verbally abusing the waitresses, you’re lousy tippers.”

  Thane saw the blow about to fly, stepped in front of Troy in time to block the attempt at a punch. Thane shoved the ponytailed man back, watched Earl readily take his pal’s place. Thane drew back a fist, rammed it straight into Earl’s nose. “I can’t very well let the groom show up with bruises on his face tomorrow for his big day, now can I?”

  Zach agreed and tackled the next scruffy loudmouth sending him to the floor. Ryder took out the churlish tough guy, leaving Cord to level the last punk.

  By the time Brent walked through the door, the melee was already over.

  Out at Promise Cove where Julianne had thrown Bree a bridal shower, things were far more serene. Wine flowed while the bride-to-be sat in the living room and opened a stack of gag gifts along with her real presents. Cocktail sets, engraved serving trays, pitchers, cookbooks, a waffle iron, and the like were stacked in a pile around Bree’s chair.

 
“The idea is for Bree to sit back tonight and take it easy, to relax and take advantage of a little ‘me’ time before she walks down the aisle tomorrow.”

  “If not tonight, when?” Keegan noted. “The week running up to the wedding is the most stressful without adding on a lot of unnecessary boring activities that no one is interested in doing.”

  “So don’t expect the toilet paper bridal gown game tonight,” Kinsey hinted.

  Bree held up her champagne glass. “Thank goodness for scrapping that idea. Splitting into teams and trying to come up with a design is too much pressure for me right now, although it might keep me from worrying about the weather. I check the forecast every day every hour to see if it’s changed. Tell me I’m not crazy for planning an outdoor wedding in November.”

  “You aren’t,” Jordan said, patting her hand. “And if it opens up and pours, Nick and I have you covered. So stop worrying. This very room will turn into a gorgeous place where you and Troy can exchange vows. You’ll see. So just relax.”

  “No one does a wedding better than Nick and Jordan, outdoor or indoor. Ethan and I can attest to that,” Hayden said. “How many does this make now?”

  “At least twenty. I believe we’re starting to make waves with Reverend Whitcomb. But then the man never did really warm up to Nick or me. I have no idea why. I do think it had something to do with Sissy Carr though. Milton has been a deacon in that church for almost forty years.”

  “He was a tad standoffish when he performed our vows. Now it makes sense because Brent and I opted for Promise Cove, as did just about everyone else in this room,” River noted. About that time her cell phone rang. “Oh sorry, I need to take this. It’s Brent. I hope it isn’t about Luke. He had the sniffles earlier.” River disappeared into the dining room to take the call. But two minutes later she came back out.

  “You won’t believe what happened.” River glanced around the room at each face. “I guess this pretty much concerns everyone here. Brent just busted up a fight over at McCready’s. Looks like Troy’s bachelor party turned into a brawl.”