by Rena Leith
I backed out of the driveway and drove toward town. In a few minutes I was bouncing along the coast road, already distracted by the glorious scenery. No one was coming in the opposite direction, so I stared out at the ocean through my side window. Breathing in deeply, I couldn’t get enough of it. The water pulsed a neon turquoise in the sunlight close to the shore. All those years living in Pleasanton, and I had rarely driven to the coast. We usually went to Tahoe. I wouldn’t be going that direction for a while.
I pulled up outside Marcy’s, climbed the steps, and went in. Marcy leaned on her counter talking to a short woman with a mop of blonde hair and big, round blue eyes that were ringed with red from crying. Marcy looked up, saw me, and motioned me in.
“Cass! Come here! It’s high time you two met. This is Sara Howland.” She indicated the woman. “Sara, this is Cass Peake. She bought the beach house.”
Sara’s eyes widened. Then she sniffed, hiccoughed, and said, “Really?”
“I know.” Marcy’s mouth twitched.
I didn’t care for the shorthand between the two of them. “Yes, really. I take it you’ve heard about the ghost, too.”
She shrugged and wiped her nose. “Who hasn’t?” Then she completely altered the negative impression I was forming of her by walking over to me and hugging me warmly and spontaneously. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry that Alan died on your beach.” And she burst into tears.
In a natural reversal, I hugged her while she cried. “I’m so sorry about the loss of your husband.”
Marcy said, “I knew the two of you should meet. Come. Sit down. Have a cup of coffee.”
The front door banged, making me jump, and a bouncy young Asian woman with long, swinging black hair came in bearing a couple of white food bags and a cardboard drink tray with four tall drinks in it.
“Angela, I hope you got some extra. Cass is joining us for breakfast,” Marcy said.
Angela set the food down. “Hi! I’m in vet school, doing an internship with Marcy.” She held out a hand.
I shook her proffered hand. “I didn’t mean to interrupt, and I’ve already eaten. I wanted to pick up some of this.” I dug in my purse and held up a can of prescription cat food.
“No problem.” Marcy bent down and hoisted a case of the same kind of cans up onto the counter. “You can write me a check.”
“I remember. No credit cards,” I said and took out my checkbook.
“Not yet. Soon,” Marcy said. “It’s getting so easy now I have no excuse.”
Angela walked over to a round table by the window and started laying food out. “I actually did get plenty. I couldn’t make up my mind between the turkey sausage breakfast sandwich and the cheese danish. I think I’d prefer the sandwich if a danish would do for you.” She held out a small bag to me.
“My favorite.” I put my checkbook back in my purse and took the bag from her.
“And I also have an extra coffee. Couldn’t decide between a mocha and a latte.” Angela sat down.
“I’ll take either.”
Marcy and Sara joined her. Marcy looked up at me. I hesitated but then pulled out a chair, sat, and sipped the mocha that Angela set in front of me. It wouldn’t hurt to hang out for a few minutes even though I’d forgotten that Marcy had said something about getting Sara and myself together. And I was curious about her. We were silent for a few minutes as we tucked in.
Marcy said, “Sara was talking about Alan’s store and his personal collections.”
“It was a book shop, right?” I asked, sipping the mocha.
Sara nodded agreement as she took the lid off an iced tea and added Stevia. “There’s so much stuff. You should see our house. Alan has…had the really expensive stuff in glass cases in one of the bedrooms. There are more numbered, labeled boxes in the garage and the basement. Signed author posters. Pulps are stored in plastic bags. He even saved vintage comics. Remember Errol Flynn? Alan collected all the books he wrote and even had one that Flynn had autographed.”
“I’m impressed. I didn’t even know Flynn wrote books.” I pulled the danish out of the bag.
Sara said, “He wrote books, sailed around the islands, and threw wild parties in his house on Mulholland Drive.”
“Sounds like he admired Flynn.” I took a bite and decided to ask for the name of the shop where Angela had bought it.
“That was our Alan,” Marcy said. “Sort of a local Walter Mitty. Always dreaming.”
Sara finished her sandwich. “I think he styled himself after Flynn as much as he could. He fancied that when he had enough money, he’d buy a boat and sail to Tahiti.”
“How could he have hoped to put together that kind of money running a bookstore?” I asked.
Sara wiped her mouth. “Oh, Alan had connections. He used to work for a company in Silicon Valley. He talked about cashing in stock or something. Anyway, the house and store are paid for, and we have no debt.”
“Have you told your family about Alan yet?” Marcy asked.
“I talked to them last night. They want me to move back in with them and finish my degree as though my… Alan had never existed. I dropped out of college when…when I got married.”
I could hear the hesitation in her voice and wondered what she’d left unsaid.
“And what about Alan’s family?” Marcy pushed on.
Sara looked up and then dropped her eyes again. “They’ve been notified. Alan never really got along with his family, but they’re apparently mentioned in his will. The lawyer notified them when he notified me and the others.”
I felt myself being drawn in by this engaging group of women willing to share the details of their lives. This camaraderie was what I was looking for in my new life here on the coast. My first few days had been full of strange, world-view shattering experiences. Now this felt normal, and I basked in it, feeling energized.
“When’s the reading of the will?” Marcy turned in her seat and tossed her now empty coffee cup into the trash basket.
“Tomorrow, actually. Then all will be revealed.” Sara made an outward gesture with her hands such as a magician might make.
“Do you know what you’re going to do yet? If you stay, are you going to reopen the store?” Angela asked. “It would be a real loss to the community if you closed it.”
Sara set the remains of her sandwich down and wiped her mouth with a napkin. “I’m thinking about it. I don’t really want to go home to my parents, but I don’t have a head for business, and there’s a lot of stuff I’d sell that Alan would have kept. Once the will is read, I’m going to go through the store and all the stock. Do an inventory. Have the books checked by the accountant for the final taxes. There’s so much to do.”
“Sara, would you like us to help you with the inventory? Many hands make light work,” Marcy said.
Sara smiled. “Would you guys mind helping me? The will is being read at nine in the morning. We could meet at ten o’clock at the store.”
I took a final sip of my mocha, put the cup carefully into the trash, and rose. “It was a pleasure meeting you, Sara.” I held out my hand, which she shook gently. “Marcy, thanks for breakfast. I’m off.”
Sara looked up at me as she released my hand. “You’re invited, too, Cass; that is, if you’d like to come.” There was an appealing shyness in her voice, and I felt myself warming to her.
“I don’t want to intrude.”
Marcy stood up. “You wouldn’t be, right, Sara? I suspect all help will be welcome.” She winked at me.
I looked at Sara, who nodded.
“Do you have to leave so soon?” Marcy said.
“I’m on my way to the store and then home. I can’t let my company do all the cleaning.” I picked up my purse and the case of cat food. “Nice to meet you, too, Angela. Bye.”
I chose a local market to learn a bit more about the town and the farms in the area instead of the two chain stores in town, whose general stock I was familiar with already. I wasn’t disappointed. There were pile
s of succulent local produce, and I wondered if a chat with the guy in the produce section might yield a list of local farms and farmers’ markets.
I breathed in the earthy smell and stepped back to avoid the misters. The radishes bloomed with rich, red fecundity. The kale and lettuces rustled like freshly starched crinolines. I stopped at the peas. “Peas?”
“That’s right,” said a deep voice behind me. “Clearly you’re not from the coast.”
“I moved here recently.” I turned back to the bin and ran my fingers through the squeaking pods. “Isn’t it late in the season for peas?”
“Our season is much longer on the coast due to the cool coastal fog. This will be the last of it, though, so enjoy it while you can.”
“I will,” I said, popping a couple of pounds worth into a brown paper bag.
“Welcome to our little community here on the coast. I think you’ll find it unique. We hope to see you back here again. I’m Tom, and this is a family run grocery, one of the few left in the area.” His smile was warm and neighborly.
“Oh, you will. I hope you won’t mind all the questions I’ll have.”
“Not at all. Any time.”
“I’m just grabbing a few things for lunch today, but are there farmer’s markets or produce stands you can recommend?”
He laughed. “I buy from the local farmers.” He indicated the produce with a wave of his hand. “But there are some who specialize in things we don’t carry. I can give you some names and draw you a map.” He pulled off his gloves and sketched out a rough map on a notepad that was smudged with dirt.”
“Thanks.” I took it from him. “I look forward to checking them out.”
“No problem.” He turned back to loading cucumbers into the wooden bin.
I finished my shopping and headed home to prepare for Ricardo and Mia’s arrival, curiosity hastening my steps.
****
Jack and Gillian had cleaned as much as possible given the amount of stuff still in the cottage and laid out place settings on the trestle table for lunch. I set my reusable Audubon Society bags full of my purchases down on the kitchen counter.
“Wow! Thanks, guys.” Pulling things out of the bags, I thought about my menu.
“How can I help?” Gillian took the bread and cucumbers from me. “Cucumber sandwiches?”
“I’m thinking soup and a variety of sandwiches.” I handed her the cream cheese. “What do you think of cucumber and cream cheese on buttermilk bread?”
Jack made a face.
“I also bought a seed and whole grain wheat bread and some deli ham, turkey, and cheese.”
Jack smiled.
“Consommé?”
Jack frowned.
“Tomato?”
Jack nodded.
Jack was my barometer. I’d successfully anticipated both ends of the menu scale. “I’ve got crudités.” I pulled veggies, mixed olives, and Tzatziki out of the last bag.
“Chips?” Jack peered into the now-empty bag.
Gillian patted him on the shoulder, walked to the pantry, pulled out a bag of chips, and dangled it in front of him, bringing the biggest grin yet.
He grabbed the bag on both sides of the top and yanked, opening the top seam. He pulled a Sam Adams out of the fridge and, beer and chips in hand, headed for the living room.
Gillian answered my raised eyebrows. “Marriage.”
Half an hour later Ricardo and Mia knocked at the frame of the screen door in the kitchen.
“C’mon in. It’s not locked,” I called.
Gillian set the last plate of sandwiches on the table.
Jack came into the kitchen, took out a bowl, and dumped the remaining chips into it. “Hey.”
“Thanks for having us for lunch,” Ricardo said.
“I’m delighted you could join us. I’m still settling in as you can see, but I enjoy having company anyway. Jack and Gillian are helping me out for a few more days before they have to go home.”
“Let me know if you need anything after they leave. I’m pretty handy.”
“Thanks, Ricardo. I may take you up on that. Once everything here is functional and I clear out my storage locker, I have to concentrate on looking for a job.”
“What kind of job are you looking for?” Mia asked.
“I have a degree in international business from San Jose State, and I was a program manager for a while, but those skills are a bit out of date now. Most recently I volunteered for nonprofits creating web sites and optimizing the sites for search engines. I thought maybe the university might have an opening.”
Ricardo said, “The listings should be online, but Mia and I can check the job board for you.”
“Thanks.”
Mia and Ricardo exchanged a glance. “Lunch looks lovely. Thank you so much.”
I liked her manners. “Have a seat. Bathroom is down the hall.”
Mia excused herself and went to wash.
“Want a beer?” Jack got himself a second and offered one to Ricardo, who took it.
When Mia returned, we all sat down.
I passed the sandwich plate around. “How’d you two meet? Classes?”
Mia picked up her spoon. “We’re in very different programs. We met in Victorian London.” She glanced at Ricardo. A sweet smile and slight blush.
He held up a hand. “We’re time travelers of sorts. We belong to a steampunk club.”
“Where do you buy steampunk costumes? Online?”
“Made it myself.”
I nearly dropped my sandwich in my soup. “You sew?”
“Watch out.” Jack swigged his beer. “She’ll have projects for you.”
“I design costumes, sew, and create the appliances.”
I offered Mia a sandwich. “Appliances?”
Mia took a ham and cheese. “Not toasters. Gears, eyepieces, mechanical devices. Victorians were obsessed with inventions.”
“I’m afraid my knowledge of Victorians is limited to bad corsets and a lack of equal rights for women,” I said.
“Personally, I like corsets.” Ricardo winked at Mia.
She smirked at him and then turned to me. “I understand where you’re coming from, but the Women’s Suffrage movement got its start in the late Victorian Age. I won’t tolerate unequal treatment… from anybody.” Her voice changed, became harsh and raw. Defiant.
Gillian said, “I completely agree with you.”
I took a sip, uncertain, but then I decided to share. “I’m here because I recently divorced my cheating husband.” I swallowed hard. “Now I have some hard choices. I put everything into this house, and I have to find a job quickly.”
“You will,” Gillian said.
Ricardo took Mia’s hand and rubbed her knuckles gently, looking down. Then he looked me in the eyes. “Mia’s had a rough time of it, too.”
Mia patted his hand with her free one. “We might as well get it out in the open if we’re going to share.” After reassuring him, she turned to us.
At the look on her face, I braced myself for something really terrible.
“I was fostered by a couple that weren’t very nice. They were paid to take me. There was no love involved. I got booted when my ‘dad’ started making moves on me.” She shuddered, and I felt myself react viscerally. “Alan was helping me out. I got into programming through hacking, which I got into trying to find my real parents.”
“That’s horrible! What did your foster mother do?” To me this was the worst kind of child abuse. It violated the child’s trust as well as her body.
“My ‘mother’ accused me of seducing her husband and threw me out of the house. I took off and wound up here.”
Ricardo’s struggle to contain his anger played across his face. “She’s had a rough time scraping by, always strapped for cash. I think she got into vampires because vampires don’t have to be afraid of anything.”
“It’s hard not to feel abandoned when your biological parents aren’t there when you needed them to protect you
from your ‘guardians.’” Mia spat the last word. “But then I met Ricardo, and together we found Alan.” She burst into tears.
Jack, Gillian, and I just sat there, not knowing what to do while Ricardo held her until her sobs subsided.
“Sorry.” Mia hiccoughed. “And then someone killed him just as we were reconnecting. He was helping me with school expenses. He wouldn’t tell me who my mother is. I asked if it was his wife, but he said no. He said they married after I was born, and she doesn’t even know I exist.”
“Wait a minute,” Gillian said. “I think I missed something. The man who was killed on the beach was your real father?”
Chapter 9
Ricardo nodded. “We only figured it out recently, but Alan agreed to a DNA test.”
“I’m very sorry for your loss. How will you handle your school expenses without his help?”
Mia exhaled slowly. “Ricardo and I have started a business that we hoped would pay for school, but because we’re so young, we haven’t been very successful at getting clients. Two of the people Ricardo and I work for have indicated interest. But that’s it.”
“What kind of business?” Jack asked.
They both looked at me. “Designing and maintaining web sites.”
I almost choked on my cucumber sandwich.
Jack whacked me on the back, nearly making me choke again. “Seriously?”
Mia smiled. “Yes. Seriously.”
“You don’t suppose…” I said.
Ricardo said, “I, for one, believe in fate. We have some of our work with us.” Ricardo pulled a flash drive out of his pocket. “If you’d like to see it.”
Gillian stood and started to clean up. I set my laptop up on the table. Jack got the beer.
****
At ten o’clock the next morning a thin mist still crept around the streets of town. I stood in front of Alan’s dark Book Shoppe, having second thoughts. Although I was on a quest to make local friends, I felt very much the outsider, and I wasn’t sure that abandoning my brother to help inventory a bookstore was going to advance me toward my goal.
Besides, my mind was brimming with ideas for my new venture with Mia and Ricardo. Their business plan was well conceived, and I was again struck by the thoroughness of the entrepreneurial course they’d taken at Clouston College. I’d become cynical over the efficacy of most college classes, finding them out of touch with the real world of business. Yet here, students were encouraged to write and execute a business plan that would fly in the real world.