“And I’m one of yours.”
Ruby nodded. “Always have been. Your mama, she be on her own. I can’t be helping her. She burned her bridges, sure as life. She tried taking you away from the island, but you found your way back, just like you had to. Lisbeth did the same. You and Lis, you’re my girls.”
Chrissie came up behind her and put her arms around Ruby, and for a moment, Ruby let her hold on.
“You understand why I think you need to get out in the world again, make your own way?” Ruby asked softly.
“I do. But my only work experience is in restaurants, Gigi.”
“Seems then you answered your own question.” And just that quickly, the moment was gone, and Chrissie released the hold she’d had on her. Ruby took a sip from her cup, then frowned. “Cold.”
“I’ll get you another cup.” When Chrissie reached for the cup, Ruby grabbed her hand.
“You be good at what you do. Too good to be spending all your days cooking for just yourself and an old woman.”
“I enjoy cooking for you, Gigi. And I thank you for . . .” Chrissie paused, trying to find the words to tell her great-grandmother how much it meant to her that she’d opened her home and taken her in when she had no place else to go where she’d be safe.
As if Ruby knew, she released Chrissie’s hand and said, “This be your place, Chrissie. Always been, always will be. No need to thank me for what’s already yours. No harm ever going to come to you here. But you got to do what you be meant to do. More in store for you than cooking in my kitchen. Grace said you do as good as the cooks at the inn, maybe you should be there with them.”
“The inn has the reputation for having the best kitchen on the Eastern Shore. The chef is the best. I’m not sure I’m ready for the inn. But if you think I should, maybe I’ll stop and talk to Grace when I go into town this week.”
“Not about what I think you should do. What you think you should do. What’s in your head, girl?”
“I’ve never cooked for that many people, in that big a venue. I’m used to a smaller kitchen, and I don’t think I’d like the hustle of one that big, one that has so much going on, and such a lofty reputation to uphold. I don’t think I’d be comfortable there.”
“You be afraid of it?”
Chrissie shook her head. “I just know what makes me happy. I’ve never been comfortable in a crowd. I’ve been to the inn. I’ve seen their kitchen. They have a big staff there. It’s not fear, Gigi. I’m just more of a small-pond kinda girl.”
“I understand that. Some of us be all right in any pond. There be other places in St. Dennis. Seems to me soon enough some be hiring, tourists be on the rise in another month or so, might be a new baby on the way be slowing someone down. You need to get out and look around on your own.”
“I’ve seen most of the other restaurants in town. They’re all so much more upscale than the places I’ve worked for. Lola’s is so gourmet; they do so many French entrées, I can hardly read the menu in the window. I’ve only worked in one place that wasn’t a diner.”
“Don’t need to be gourmet—whatever that means. And don’t need to be selling yourself short.”
“I’m really not. I’m a good cook, I know that. It’s just been easier to stay here and do for you while I—well, got over things.”
“You not be over everything. I know what I see. Right now, I be knowing it’s time for you to get out and do what you do.”
“You’re right, but some things take longer than others to get over.”
“You can leave that load right where you left that man. Not worthy of you, him.”
“I know that now.” Chrissie nodded. “And you know that I know that.”
Ruby nodded, her green eyes twinkling. “Don’t never be thinking you be fooling me.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it. I’ll definitely check around, see what’s available.” Chrissie stood, then leaned over and kissed Ruby on the cheek. “Thanks, Gigi. It’s been so long since someone was in my corner, since someone believed in me. Well, other than Rob at the café. Before that, I didn’t think I was good enough to move on to something better. It seemed I was always moving backward. It’s taken me a while, but I feel like myself again.”
“You keep that little man’s voice outta your head,” Ruby said sharply. “He had his say long enough. Time to listen to yourself.” She smiled. “And to me, of course.”
“I’m listening, Gigi.” Chrissie smoothed back a wisp of thin white hair from Ruby’s forehead. “I still want to take care of you, though.”
As soon as the words left her mouth, she regretted them. She felt Ruby tense, then grab hold of her wrist.
“Now, who do you think be taking care of me before you?”
“Ah . . . I didn’t mean . . . I thought Owen . . .”
“Owen had his hands full, missy. I been taking care of myself since my Harold died, and that be before you were born. I don’t need no one to take care of me.” She loosened her grip. “But if sometime you be wanting to cook me some oysters like you did last night, or some crab like you did the night before, I be here to eat them.”
“Got it.” Chrissie nodded. “I think I’ll just go on into St. Dennis now, see what the market has today.”
Chrissie backed up a step or two, then headed toward the second floor to get her bag. She was halfway to the stairwell when Ruby called to her. “Won’t hold it against you if you come back with some rockfish and a couple’a lemons. Course, would be nice if you got me that tea before you took off . . .”
• • •
CHOOSING TO WALK into St. Dennis had been the right choice. She’d changed from her early morning work clothes into a pair of black yoga pants and a pale pink top. She’d tied up her hair in a ponytail, slipped on her dark shades, and put on her running shoes, since the walk would be her workout for today. The sky was blue, the air temperate, and there was just enough balance of sun and shade to make it a perfect morning. Chrissie crossed the bridge between Cannonball Island and the mainland and strolled along the sandy shoulder of Charles Street, St. Dennis’s main street, which stretched from the island through the center of town, and clear out to the highway. She passed a pond where a heron feasted on its morning catch and several Victorian-era houses that were set back from the road. The trees were just beginning to leaf out and the birds had started their migration north. The bare branches were filled with the transients that stopped at the bay to refuel before resuming their flights.
With every step, her mind replayed her conversation with Ruby, who of course was right about everything she’d said. It was time for Chrissie to step out and join the world again. She’d gotten too comfortable at the store, the routine easy and gentle on one who’d been kicked around—mentally and physically—for far too long. Another life, Chrissie told herself. Not this one. Not anymore.
She hadn’t been kidding when she told Ruby that she always seemed to be sliding backward, because she had been. Whenever she’d been moved up in whatever kitchen she was working, Doug had been relentless in convincing her she’d fail if she tried to move to the next level, and he’d talk her into quitting and going elsewhere, where she’d start at the same low level she’d been at. The cycle had been broken when Rob, who’d been the head chef at the last diner she’d worked at, left to open La Luna and begged Chrissie to come with him.
“You’re too good—way too good—to work in diners like this one the rest of your life. Come with me,” he’d told her, “and I’ll make a head chef out of you one day.”
Of course, Doug had done his best to undermine her confidence, telling her Rob would end up firing her once her true lack of skill was exposed, that roadside diners, not fancy cafés, were where she belonged. But Rob had been as tenacious in helping her believe she deserved better, she deserved more. In the end, Doug had given in, though Chrissie knew it wasn’t because he believed in her but because Rob offered to pay her more than she’d been making at the diner. That she had thrived at La Luna had be
en her little secret. She’d never once shared Rob’s words of encouragement or praise with Doug, because she knew he’d somehow turn those words around. For reasons she’d never understood, Doug took every one of her accomplishments as a slap in his face, which he’d then take out on her. Over the past year she’d read enough—on her breaks, of course, never at home—to begin to recognize that only a badly damaged person would react to another’s success the way Doug had, and in a way, she’d felt sorry for him. She’d tried to get him to open up about his past to help her understand him a little better, but all he’d say when she asked about his childhood was, “It wasn’t good.”
There were days when she could barely believe she’d walked away from him and left behind all the baggage he’d refused to share. Maybe someday he’d get help to overcome his anger and his bitterness, both of which had fueled his drug and alcohol addictions, but she doubted it.
Why had she stayed so long? She’d loved him, or thought she had. Over time she began to understand that what had drawn her to him was the mere fact that such a beautiful man had desired her. She’d always considered herself the ugly duckling of the family. So when a man like Doug paid attention, she was beyond flattered. From the first time she met him, she’d been drawn to his good looks, his easy charm, and the fact that he’d made her feel like the most beautiful woman in the world. Because she had self-esteem issues, he’d struck all the right notes. He was four years older, had already graduated from college, and seemed to have a brilliant future as an accountant. He’d talked her into quitting college in her junior year and moving in with him. If things went well, he’d said, they could get married after they’d had time to build up savings for a house. She couldn’t believe that such a man wanted to share his life with her.
But by the time she realized his beauty was only superficial, they’d moved in together and she knew moving out would not be that simple. Over time the girl she’d been—the one who’d loved to dance, loved eighties rock and who’d sing “Come On, Eileen” at the top of her lungs in the shower, who loved to read and would spend hours in the library, picking up random books to learn something she hadn’t known before—was lost, and she didn’t know if she’d ever be able to bring her back.
And over time, Doug’d stopped talking about marriage, and for that, she’d been grateful.
She’d learned a lot since then. She still had some self-esteem and self-image issues, but she’d been working on that.
Chrissie pushed aside any thoughts of Doug and the life she’d left behind. She was a new person now, a person who was finding her own happiness in her own way and in her own place. She wasn’t about to let anything or anyone take her joy or spoil this morning for her.
In one hand she carried a hardcover book Ruby had asked her to drop off to Grace, so she turned at the entrance to the Inn at Sinclair’s Point. The driveway was fairly long and curved in several places, so the inn didn’t come into view until you were halfway there and the ancient pines gave way to gardens and hedges. The venerable building was three full stories of white clapboard with a front porch that went clear across the inn. Tall white pillars reached to the second floor to support the balcony. On one side, a wing stretched into a lawn that even now, at the end of April, was thick and green. The wing on the opposite side overlooked tennis courts, and a well-equipped playground stood between the inn and the bay.
Several guests, some wearing tennis whites, sat in rocking chairs on the front porch as Chrissie took the steps two at a time. She went inside the wide front door and followed the hall past a large ballroom where a young woman with long blond hair appeared to be setting up for an event.
“Hey, Lucy,” Chrissie called in through the open double doors.
“Hi, Chrissie.” Lucy Sinclair Montgomery, Grace’s daughter and the inn’s event planner, waved back.
Chrissie glanced around the room, which appeared to be in the process of being dressed up.
“Looks great.” Chrissie nodded in the direction of the large round tables where lush, colorful floral decorations were being placed.
“Thanks. Fashion show tomorrow night. You should come. Lis and Cass will be here, and I know you’ve met most of their friends from town.” Lucy reached into her pocket and took out an envelope. Handing it to Chrissie, she said, “Two tickets. It’ll be fun. Besides, I need to fill chairs.”
“Thanks, but I don’t really know anyone to give the extra ticket to. I doubt that you’ll have a problem packing the place, but I’ll try to make it.” She tucked the envelope into her bag. “Any idea where I’d find your mom this morning?”
“Try her office,” Lucy said. “Third door on the left. If she’s not in there, check out the lobby.”
“Will do. Thanks. I’ll let you get back to work.”
“See you tomorrow night.”
Chrissie knocked on Grace’s closed office door when she reached it, but there was no answer. She turned the door handle and gave it a slight push, and when it opened, she peered inside. The lights were on and there were papers scattered upon a desk, but no Grace.
Chrissie closed the door and walked toward the lobby, which was straight ahead. There she saw Grace at the registration desk in conversation with a family that appeared to be checking in or checking out. Chrissie walked the perimeter of the room, glancing at the artwork, while she waited. Finally, Grace was free, and seeing Chrissie, she broke into a wide smile.
“Thank you so much for dropping off the book,” Grace said as she drew closer. “I meant to bring it home with me the other night but it slipped my mind.” Her smile widened. “Must have been those delicious oysters that made me forget everything else.”
“Thanks, Grace.” Chrissie handed her the book. “Anytime you’d like to come by for dinner with Ruby and me, you just let us know. You’re always welcome.”
“Thank you, dear. I’ll certainly be back,” Grace assured her. “Now, where are you off to?”
“The market, but I really want to stop at Scoop. I’ve had this craving for ice cream for the past few days.”
“There’s no ice cream like Scoop’s. Have a cone for me.” Grace paused. “On second thought, I might have to make my way down there later this afternoon.”
“I could bring you something if you like,” Chrissie offered.
“Thank you, but as you know, part of the fun is walking into that sweet little shop and reading the day’s flavors for oneself.” The phone in Grace’s pocket began to ring.
“You take that,” Chrissie said. “I should be moving along anyway.”
“Thank you again.” Grace took the phone from her pocket and headed back toward her office.
A group of seven women who appeared to be in their midtwenties came in through the automatic double doors at the side of the lobby. They stopped at the registration desk and one by one dropped their luggage to the floor. A minute later, a tall man wearing worn jeans, a checkered shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbows, and a Philadelphia Eagles ball cap approached them and struck up a conversation with the last woman in the line, a short pretty blonde. Her eyes appeared to shine approvingly as she turned to look into his face. As Chrissie passed by, she heard the woman say, “Just till Sunday. Girls’ weekend.”
Chrissie went through the automatic doors and onto the small back porch, where she stood for a moment to look around. She’d been to the inn before, but she’d never taken the time to discover all the resort offered. On a whim, she walked down to the bay, past a large shed where bicycles stood waiting to be rented. Ten feet away, kayaks and canoes stood up against the wall of the boathouse. Chrissie passed by it all and went right to the bay. The grass grew almost to the water’s edge, and off to the right the wetland was teeming with life. She sheltered her eyes from the sun with one hand to look across the bay, but the Chesapeake was too wide to see clear to the other side. A clang of the metal gate at the opening to the playground drew her attention, and she heard several very young children shrieking to be first on a slide. Sh
e knew that in the summer months, the inn employed its own babysitters so parents could enjoy a game of tennis while their offspring played in the sand or on the swings, but today, the parents were on their own. As she looked around the inn’s grounds, it was pretty clear that Dan, Grace’s son who’d taken over running the inn, had thought of everything.
Thinking of Dan Sinclair brought to mind his wife, Jamie Valentine, the writer whose books about relationships had been bestsellers the year before. One of the waitresses at the café had left one of the titles in the small break room in the back of the restaurant, and it was there that Chrissie had first picked up the book that helped her to change her life. In the pages of The Honest Relationship, Chrissie had recognized exactly what her relationship with Doug had become. She’d gone on to read The Honest Life, and by the time she’d gotten to the last page, she realized that every day she stayed with Doug was one more day she’d spend lying to herself. It had taken her close to a year to leave, but in that year, she managed to quietly do what was necessary for her to step out of her dishonest life and leave her toxic relationship behind. When she’d met Jamie at Owen’s wedding, it was all she could do not to gush.
“Your books have changed my life,” Chrissie’d told Jamie.
“Tell me.” Jamie’d sat next to Chrissie and listened.
And Chrissie had told her everything.
When she was finished, Jamie’s eyes were filled with tears, and she’d hugged Chrissie tightly. “Thank you,” she’d said. “You have no idea how much it means to me to know that my books helped you in some small way to help yourself.”
“No small way. It’s no exaggeration to say you probably saved my life,” Chrissie’d told her, and from that conversation, a friendship was born.
As she walked toward the driveway, Chrissie looked back at the building, wondering if Jamie had returned from her latest book tour. Not that she had time to visit, Chrissie reminded herself. She had an errand to run and she really wanted to stop at Scoop.
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