Sweet Kiss

by Judy Ann Davis

  “Actually, it’s not new,” Melanie interrupted her. “My mom has it on some of her CDs. It’s been recorded by the Marvelettes, the Supremes, the Beatles and other groups.”

  “Well, I think it’s a fabulous song whether it’s by the Marvelous Supremes or The Saturdays.” Eva May giggled and gathered up her bags on the counter. “Tootles. Gotta run before the coffee gets cold.” She made a beeline for the door just as Jim Foster was coming in. He held it for her.

  “Beautiful day, maybe a little rain. What do you think, Eva May?” he asked as she sailed past him.

  “Ah, well. Rain makes the world go round, doesn’t it?” She flew onward without waiting for a reply.

  He stepped up to the counter, his eyebrows knitted and face screwed into a confused, shocked look. “Did she just say rain instead of love?”

  “Ah, poor Eva May.” Melanie shook her head in despair. “She could lose a debate with a doorknob. I think our postmistress is on a mission.”

  “And that would be?” Jim coaxed.

  “Trying to catch Tappe Vanderberg.” She backed away and headed toward the storeroom. “Excuse me, but I have to get some supplies.”

  “Tappe’s not stupid.” Jim smiled and looked over at Kate, who was transferring the strawberry jam to the back counter and wiping down the area beside the cash register. “We all know who has always been his first and only love. It was very considerate of him to help your sister.”

  Blushing, Kate looked up abruptly, the last remark catching her by surprise. A warning voice whispered in her head. Tappe helped her sister? How had Tappe helped her sister? She forced a smile she didn’t feel. “Why yes, it was. What can I get for you today, Jim? Our coffee flavor of the day is hazelnut, but we have a few new ones like raspberry chocolate. And we have some very delicious cinnamon streusel muffins made fresh this morning.”

  ****

  Kate had spent the morning agonizing over her options. It didn’t take the brain of a scientist to figure out Violet had somehow found a way to get Tappe to help her with her bills. Like everyone else around town, she knew if Violet was given money, it would soon vanish. Donald, like always, would be around the corner waiting to dive in and take a share. Surely Tappe knew that as well—or did he? Why was he helping her sister?

  Violet was working on her computer, her back half-turned to the door when Kate, abandoning Melanie to handle the coffee shop alone, entered the real estate office. She placed a white bag of chocolate-covered donuts on her sister’s desk and plopped down in the chair in front of it.

  Violet whirled, eyeing the bag suspiciously. “What did I do to earn a special visit from my dear sister bearing treats?”

  “You tell me.” Kate took a deep breath and stared at her sister, who glared back at her with an equally aloof manner. “Let’s start with Tappe Vanderberg.”

  Violet stiffened. “My association with Tappe is none of your business.”

  “It is, if you’re trying to fleece him to get out of debt. How could you?” Kate’ eyes filled with tears of frustration and she blinked to keep them from sliding down her face and showing her vulnerability. “Tappe has been a part of our family since we were children. He’s like a brother to you.”

  “Though it’s none of your business, he offered to help me get back on my feet,” Violet huffed. “If you would stop being so selfish and sell the house, we could both be more comfortable, living a less stressful life. I, for one, hate having bill collectors rapping at my door or calling at all hours of the day and night.”

  “Did it ever occur to you that I really want the place, Violet? Do you understand it’s the only home we’ve ever known since Mother died? The only happy memories we have are wrapped up in the walls of that old house. It’s where we felt safe and warm. Where we ran to when we were hurt or our spirits were broken. Where we gathered with our friends, ate pizza, played flashlight tag at night, and canoed together. Do you think she only left the insurance policy to help us pay the inheritance and taxes, and to help defray costs? Have you even given any thought to the idea Aunt Fay wanted us to hold on to it and keep it in the family instead of having strangers own it?”

  “Oh, let’s not have a pity party here! Fay was a sentimental, silly old fool,” Violet spat back. “There’s land out there that can be used for other purposes. The house is in need of repairs. Someone with more money could fix it up and enjoy it. Why won’t you sell? You have a comfortable little place in town.” She was angry now, seething with barely bridled rage.

  Little was the key word, Kate thought. Her bungalow was like living in a refrigerator box with its tiny sitting area, kitchen with only one counter, bedroom, and windowless bath. She dreamed of returning to the outskirts of town. She loved the big house, the wide open spaces, the fifty acres of land, the thriving orange trees, blueberry bushes, and live oaks. From the windows on the second floor, brilliant sunrises and vivid sunsets could melt a person’s heart with their unrivaled beauty. Even the wooded winding path leading to the river on the backwaters had a rustic charm.

  “How do you plan to pay Tappe back?” Kate tried to keep the hostility from her voice. Swallowing the lump that was clogging her throat, she was growing resentful of Violet and her silly antics and her disregard for the feelings of others.

  “He said not to worry about it, just do the best I can when I get some money.” Violet sneered. “Stay out of my business.”

  They stared at each other through a chilly black silence.

  “That’s unfair, Violet.”

  “Oh, don’t be ridiculous. What’s unfair is you holding me hostage to Fay’s decrepit house! What’s unfair is your selfishness. What’s unfair is keeping Tappe from—” Violet’s mouth snapped shut.

  “From what?”

  “Never mind. Get out!” Violet turned her back on her sister and stared at her computer screen.

  Fuming, Kate rose as a knot formed in her stomach. She went out into the street, stopped, and sucked in a deep breath as a wave of apprehension swept over her. She found a nearby bench and collapsed, willing herself to hold back any tears of disappointment. Without much introspection, it suddenly all came together like a person emerging from a foggy walk into bright daylight. Tappe had given Violet money in hopes her sister would convince her to sell the family homestead. Good old Saint Tappe was saving her sister while throwing her under the bus and tossing her dreams into the wind! How dare he? How dare he come waltzing into town like a white knight and interfering in her life? Kate straightened her shoulders and shook her head to clear it. Dinner tonight at the Shrimp Shack was going to be more than just a simple exchange of ideas about the town’s festival. Kate trudged back to the coffee shop, her heart cold and heavy, but her temper boiling.

  ****

  It was exactly 4 p.m. when Kate arrived at the Shrimp Shack on the intercoastal waters to wait for Tappe. A warm breeze blew and rattled the open umbrellas shading the tables, so she chose a seat outdoors and ordered a glass of cola, hoping to catch sight of a few dolphins known to hang around the area.

  “How about an appetizer? Some shrimp?” the young waiter asked as he delivered her drink. “They’re on special today. Cajun, blackened or plain. Steamed or cold.”

  Kate shook her head and handed him a twenty-dollar bill. While she waited for her change, she gazed out over the waters where the sun would slowly sink in two hours or less. Soon it would color the entire vegetation and all the rivers in the estuary a glowing pink. When they were little, Aunt Fay would take Tappe, Violet, and her to a nearby inlet where they fished, dug for clams, or just played in the shallow water. Around her, she smelled the familiar scent of Old Bay, and she remembered the many nights her aunt let them stay up late to steam shrimp.

  A familiar smell wafting on the breeze wrenched her from her wandering thoughts. She sat upright, slid off the bench, and rounded the building where the Dumpster stood outside the kitchen door of the shack. She lifted the lid and found garbage bags smelling like they contained all kinds of
decaying shells and fish parts. She went back to her table. When the waiter returned with her change, she asked, “If someone wanted to collect a garbage bag full of shrimp shells, could he…or she…steal a bag from your Dumpster?”

  “Eeeuuww!” The waiter made a horrible face like he was gagging. “Why would anyone want to steal discarded shells?”

  “But it’s possible?”

  “I don’t think anyone, including the owners, would care if someone walked away with a stinky bag of shells or the whole Dumpster full of fish guts and rotting rubbish.”

  Kate scrutinized the front corners of the building and cocked an eyebrow. “You have cameras on the premises?”

  He shook his head. “Yeah, but to be honest, the one out back is broken. It’s funny you should mention it, but a gal stopped by a few days ago and asked about shrimp shells. She said she often wondered what we do with them.” He shook his head disbelievingly. “What do people think we do with them besides chuck them in the garbage?”

  “Make seafood stock?” Kate pondered aloud.

  “If we used all our shells, we’d have soup stock for the next century.”

  “Good point.” She nodded.

  “So what did this woman look like?”

  The young man grinned. “I can’t remember much. She talked to the manager. But she acted like sort of an airhead and left singing a song about a postman.”

  Seething, Kate sat back in her seat, waiting for Tappe as she thought up ways to toss Eva May Poole, uniform and all, into the nearest body of water. It was obvious the postmistress was infatuated with Tappe. If she discovered he wanted to buy Aunt Fay’s house, she would try to find a way to discourage Kate from hanging on to it. Kate had no doubt the scatterbrain deliberately dumped the shrimp in an effort to hurry the process along.

  An hour and a half later, when Tappe didn’t show, Kate tried to call him with no success. Finally, humiliated by being stood up, she walked back to her Jeep and tried one more time. Fiercely wiping a tear threatening to run down her cheek, she remembered he rarely kept his phone on him when he worked on the dock or onboard a boat. She sat for only a minute before her misery and embarrassment turned to raw fury. She would bet dollars to her own coffee shop donuts Eva May was up to her old tricks and had somehow waylaid him. Throwing the Jeep into drive, she tore out of the parking lot and down to the marina. If Tappe was going to make a fool of her twice, at least he was going to face the consequences…and face her as well.

  Chapter Seven

  She found him sitting outside on an old webbed lawn chair on the dock, fresh from the shower, watching the same glorious sun she had been watching. It was slowly setting and hung suspended above the coastal waters like a giant orange balloon. Later, when it would drop on the horizon, long swirling rays of color would spill over the still water and vegetation to rival a Picasso painting. The faint smell of smoke from a beach fire rode on an air current rolling in from the ocean.

  Tappe glanced up when he heard her approach. “Hi.” He smiled a warm wide smile. “I didn’t expect to see you.”

  “Obviously,” she said through gritted teeth.

  “What’s wrong?” He rose and started toward her.

  She held up a hand to ward him off. “I waited an hour and a half at the Shrimp Shack for you to come. Didn’t you get my message from Eva May?”

  “What message?”

  “To be there at four so we could go over plans about Children’s Day at the Valentine’s Day Festival? I thought we’d catch dinner afterwards.”

  He shook his head. “The only thing Eva May gave me was a cup of coffee with too much milk and enough sugar to give three people a hyperglycemic attack. I had to slurp down a few mouthfuls just to rid myself of her.”

  “How heroic! What about the two jars of jam?”

  “What jam? Our jam? The jam we made?”

  “Oh, for goodness sake.” Kate glared at him. “I’ve been taken for a fool by two people today!”

  Tappe stared at her in confusion. “What are you talking about, Kate?”

  “I gave Eva May strawberry jam to give to you and your parents.”

  “And that’s what has you so worked up? Because Eva May made off with a couple jars of jam?”

  “No, because Eva May deliberately neglected to tell you we were supposed to meet at four o’clock at the Shrimp Shack.”

  “We’re talking about Eva May, here. The same dingbat who talks to her shoes. Jeez, Kate, do you really think she’s capable of remembering a message beyond a few seconds?”

  “I’m sorry, but I have issues with that woman.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “Don’t we all? Join the club.”

  “I’m certain she was the one who spilled the bag of decaying shrimp shells on my aunt’s porch.”

  “What would be the point?”

  Kate placed her hands belligerently on her hips and glared at him. “You! She’s been chasing you since you arrived. She’s looking for a husband. I’m in her way. The dingbat thinks the sun rises and sets on your dear little head.”

  “Well, at the moment, the sun is setting on both of our dear little heads,” he pointed out.

  His humor only fueled her temper more. She sputtered, bristling with outrage, “Tappe, if you told her to jump off the dock with a shark circling, the twit would dive in head first!”

  “Whoa, now.” The corner of his mouth formed into a devilish smirk. “One, I’d never do that to a poor shark, and two, Eva May can’t swim.” He threw his hand carelessly in the air. “I’ve never encouraged that woman. She’s like a piece of gum struck to my shoe. Everywhere I go she shows up. Be reasonable, Kate. I have no romantic interest in Eva May Poole.”

  “Maybe you’d better tell her that.”

  Tappe scraped a hand over his face and uttered a faint obscenity. “Maybe I better. First thing tomorrow, I’m stopping at the post office and I’ll make sure our loony post mistress receives the message.” He gestured to a lawn chair by the building. His voice softened. “Let’s get another chair, sit down, and talk this through. Please, Kate.”

  “Yeah. Great idea. I think we should talk all right. Eva May isn’t the only issue!” Kate swept past him and stomped down the dock. She halted at a portion of the railing where boats moored on stringers stretched out to deeper waters. Gentle waves lapped against the pilings below her. The creaks and groans of the vessels and the squeaky scrape of their fender bumpers, usually a soothing sound, seemed more like a series of groans and complaints instead. She waited until he sauntered up and was in earshot. “The problem is you, Benedict Arnold. You. You who decided you’d team up with my sister to try to convince me to sell Aunt Fay’s house so you could buy it.” She didn’t try to hide the irritation and bitterness in her voice.

  “Baloney! I did no such thing. I gave your sister money to help her get out of debt. I told her if she and you decided to sell, I’d like to be the first one to make an offer.”

  “Why? Why give her money? Don’t you know Donald Meyers will only pop up out of the blue and she’ll hand it over to him?”

  “I did it because your sister was out of sorts. She’s hurting. Can’t you see that? The woman needs professional help. I’m certain she’s hitting the bottle.” He ran his hand through his hair. “I came home to Little Heron Shores to settle down and be near my parents and those I know, love, and respect. Besides Mom and Dad, you and Violet are the only ones I know who are close to being called my family. Mom was an only child like me. Dad’s brother in Amsterdam never married. I have no cousins.” He paused, then admitted, “Money is no problem, Kate. When I decided to buy the marina with Dad, I sold my company and made a very tidy profit. Why not use it to help?”

  Kate pursed her lips and hid her surprise, pondering what he had just revealed.

  Tappe pressed on. “Listen, I hired a private investigator to look into this Donald Meyers guy and his background. Before he showed up here a few years ago, pulling all those stunts he’s infamous for, he lived in Wisc
onsin and was married to a woman from Mason. Even though he married your sister, he never divorced his first wife. Your sister is the injured party here. Bigamy is a crime in every state, and it’s a felony in Wisconsin. He’s been giving her grief. We can kick him from here back to the far shores of Lake Superior. He’ll wish he never heard of Little Heron Shores.”

  “You mean she was never married?”

  “No, not legally.”

  “And he fleeced her of all her money?” She stared at him in astonishment. “Now what?”

  “Now she’ll have to find a good lawyer and see what her options are.”

  He leaned his forearms on the rail and fell silent, staring at the sun sinking lower and flaunting its colors. Streaks of vibrant pinks, purples and gold like a magical light show set the evening sky on fire and struck the backwaters coloring them as well. A flock of seven pelicans split the sky in two as they winged their way in a diagonal formation across the sky. Birds called out in more gentle melancholy sounds with night closing in, and somewhere farther away a seagull squawked.

  “Listen,” he finally said in a lower voice, “if you want the house now, and you want to save your relationship with your sister, let me lend you fifty thousand to pay Violet off for her half of the house. She’ll need the money to chase down Donald and for legal counsel. You can repay me however and whenever you choose. I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying right here on the coast.”

  “But you want the house.”

  “I want you to be happy, Kate.”

  “But you really want the house.”

  Grim faced, he glanced again at the beautiful display before them and fell quiet, refusing to argue.

  “Say it,” she demanded, thumping her fist on the weathered rail. She refused to let him off so easily. “Admit it. You want the house!”

  “Okay. Okay!” He stepped back from the rail, grabbed her shoulders, and spun her toward him. In a steely voice, he said, “I want the house. I want the blasted house. I want the blasted house, Kate, but only if I have you in it! I love you. I’ve loved you since we were six years old. I don’t give a rat’s backside where we live—above the marina, at your house, at your Aunt Fay’s, or in a treehouse.” He let out a long, audible breath and raised an eyebrow. “Now do you understand?”