Postcards from Cedar Key

by Terri DuLong

  “Oh, we did pretty well. I caught quite a few mullet. And that reminds me, Doyle has invited you to join us for a boat ride sometime. Have you ever been out there to Atsena Otie or North Key?” He flung his hand toward the water.

  “No, never, and I’d love to go.”

  “Great. He said to ask Chloe if she’d like to go too. You gals pick the day and we’ll do it.”

  “Sounds like fun. A Monday or Tuesday would probably work best for us since our shops are closed on those days.”

  I was surprised that an hour had passed over two glasses of wine as we chatted along in companionable ease.

  “Well,” Saxton said, getting up. “Time for me to get those steaks on the grill.”

  “Can I help with anything?”

  “Sure. If you’d like to set the table, that would be great. Come on, I’ll show you where everything is.”

  I got the table set with mismatched plates and silverware just as Saxton removed two rib eye steaks from the grill.

  “Smells wonderful,” I said.

  He went back into the house and came out carrying a tray with a bowl of potato salad and French bread, along with two pillar candles and holders.

  I removed the bowl and bread from the tray while he lit the candles and then poured more wine.

  Sitting down and placing the paper napkin in my lap, I said, “This looks great. Bon appétit.”

  “And to you,” he said, and smiled.

  The steak was cooked to perfection, the potato salad was delicious, and the French bread was warm and crusty. He might have a cluttered house, but he was a good chef and host. I heard the soft music drifting outside and looked across to where the lights on Dock Street now reflected on the water, and smiled. This had been a very enjoyable evening. Being with Saxton was easy and relaxing. There was no fumbling for topics to talk about or feelings of boredom. All of it simply felt right. And comfortable.

  We continued conversing right through dessert and coffee, and I was shocked to glance at my watch and see it was after eleven.

  “Let me help you clean up,” I said. “And then I have to be going. What a great evening it was. I really enjoyed it.”

  “No, no. I have the dinner dishes in the dishwasher. All that’s left are these coffee cups. I’ll get these inside and then I’ll walk you home.”

  “Oh, you don’t have to do that,” I told him as I followed him inside with my empty mug.

  He turned around and flashed me a sexy smile. “True. But I’d like to. Besides, we’ll take Lola and she’ll enjoy that.”

  We stood by the gate to my courtyard as Lola sniffed the pavement.

  “Thank you so much for a lovely evening, Saxton. It was nice.”

  “It was, wasn’t it?” he said.

  And before I realized what was happening, I felt his lips on mine. Gentle, with just enough pressure to cause my stomach to feel like it was in a free fall. I felt his hand on the back of my neck pulling me closer. When we broke apart, both of us were breathing heavily.

  “Very nice, indeed,” Saxton whispered. “I’ll see you soon, Berkley.”

  And with that he turned and headed back down D Street with Lola trotting along beside him.

  10

  It had been less than two weeks since I’d opened my shop, and as I sat spinning fiber for Yarning Together, I knew that I’d been pretty fortunate. My business was doing well, both with yarn and chocolate. I was making new friends daily. I loved the small town feel of Cedar Key. And I also might have a romantic partner in my life.

  After dinner at Saxton’s house the previous Saturday, he dropped by the shop on Wednesday for his refill of chocolate. I’d been kept plenty busy on my two days with the shop closed. Cleaning both my apartment and the shop, spinning fiber, knitting, making more chocolate clams, and updating orders from my website. But when I saw him walk through the door shortly after I opened, that giddy feeling returned and was magnified when I recalled his kiss.

  “And how are you this bright and glorious morning?” he questioned with a smile.

  Was this man always so upbeat and happy?

  “I’m good,” I told him as I decided that, yes, he probably had an overabundance of happiness genes. “And you?”

  “Great. I wanted to let you know that if you and Chloe are free next Monday, Doyle said it would be a good time to go for that boat ride. The tides will be just right.”

  “That’ll work. I asked Chloe and she said she’d be free next week either Monday or Tuesday.”

  “Well, good. Then it’s a date. We’ll meet you at City Marina about eight Monday morning.”

  So did this mean I wouldn’t see him outside the shop until then? Without waiting to give it any thought, I blurted out, “I was wondering. . . I’d like to repay that dinner you did last week. Any chance you’d like to come to my place this Saturday evening?”

  A huge smile crossed Saxton’s face and without hesitating, he said, “That sounds good. What time?”

  “Oh, well . . . ah, I close at five. So let’s say seven?”

  “Perfect, and I’ll bring the wine. White or red?”

  I had no clue what I’d even be cooking, but said, “Red would be good.”

  “Okay, and now I’ll have my usual box of chocolate.”

  After Saxton left I confirmed what I’d been thinking earlier that morning. I was pretty darn fortunate. I’d see Saxton for dinner in two days and then a boat ride on Monday. Not bad, girl, I thought, especially for somebody who had no interest in getting involved romantically.

  Before I reopened my shop after lunch, I went across the street to the coffee café and was pleased to see both Chloe and Grace sitting there.

  “Hey,” Grace said. “Join us for coffee.”

  I pulled up a chair after telling Suellen my order.

  “How’s everything with you guys?” I asked.

  “Well, it seems my sister is leaving us,” Chloe said.

  “Leaving? Are you moving away?”

  Grace laughed. “No, no. But Lucas and I have made a decision to spend the summer in Paris. His cousin has offered us his apartment there and we’re going to take advantage of that.”

  “Oh, wow,” I said. “Well, good for you. What a great opportunity that’ll be.”

  “That’s what we thought. We’ll be leaving the end of April and will be back sometime early October. Lucas wants to take me around different parts of France while we’re there, and we’ll probably get over to Italy as well.”

  “Yeah, can you believe it?” Suellen said, putting my double latte in front of me. “Talk about a dream vacation.”

  “Oh, no.” I looked up at Suellen. “Does this mean you’re out of a job for the summer?”

  She shook her head. “Not at all. They trust me to keep this place running while they’re gone.”

  “Of course we do,” Grace said. “We’re fortunate to have you.”

  “And how about the bookshop?” I questioned. “Will you have to close that?”

  “No. We were lucky there too. Lucas spoke to Corabeth and asked if she’d like to run it, and she was thrilled. She’s such a huge reader and book person; she’ll be great in there with the customers. So he’s going to start training her soon and teach her about the ordering and everything, and I’m sure she’ll do fine.”

  “I think she will too,” Chloe said. “That really worked out well, but Aunt Maude and I are going to miss both of you.”

  Grace reached out to squeeze her sister’s hand. “I told you. You both need to come over there for a visit. There’s an extra bedroom in the apartment, and we’d love to have you.”

  “You really should,” I told Chloe. “After all, France is where your heritage is. How long has it been since you’ve been there?”

  Chloe raised her eyebrows and shrugged. “At least a few years. Before Parker and I divorced. Our son, Mathis, works there, so we went over to visit him.”

  “See,” I said. “All the more reason to go. You can visit your son whil
e you’re there.”

  Chloe nodded. “Hmm. Maybe I’ll give it some thought. Hey, don’t forget that Dora is having the knitting group tonight rather than Thursday this week. You’re going, aren’t you?” she asked, looking at the three of us.

  “Yup, Suellen and I will be there,” Grace said.

  “Me too, but I have to get going and reopen my shop. So I’ll see you there at seven.”

  “And so,” Dora said, knitting away on the beautiful pink sweater that she was making for Monica’s baby, “I was really happy to hear that my niece has hired Paula to help her with the triplets four days a week.”

  “That really worked out well,” I said. “I’m sure that family can use the extra money.”

  “Right.” Dora placed her knitting in her lap. “I wanted to talk to all of you about something. I had an idea and could use your help.”

  “Sure. What is it?” Liz kept knitting away but glanced up at Dora.

  “Well, the Arts Festival is next month, and I thought maybe we could get a vendor’s booth. To sell some scarves.”

  “Scarves?” Corabeth questioned.

  Dora nodded. “Yeah. I was thinking that perhaps Chloe could come up with a fairly simple design. Something that might resemble waves in the water. We could do them in a pretty shade of blue and use different types of yarns to get a different effect. We’ll call them the Cedar Key scarves and I think we could easily charge twenty dollars each, and then I thought it might be nice to donate the money to Paula’s family.”

  “Oh, that’s a great idea, Dora,” Chloe said. “And yes, I’d be more than happy to do a design for a pattern.”

  “You mean just give them the money?” Raylene questioned, causing everyone to look in her direction. She shifted in her chair. “Well . . . I just mean . . . that’s charity. Do you think they’ll accept that?”

  “Raylene Samuels,” I heard Dora say in a tone I wasn’t used to hearing from her. “It is not charity. You know darn well we help each other on this island. How many times have we done fund-raisers with dinners and whatnot to help those in need? This would be no different and shame on you for thinking otherwise.”

  I saw a crimson flush creep up Raylene’s neck.

  “Well . . . yes. You’re right,” was all she said before she resumed her knitting with head bent.

  “Count me in,” Betty said.

  “Oh, absolutely. Me too,” Corabeth told Dora.

  “And I’m not leaving for France till late April,” Grace said. “So I’ll have plenty of time to get some scarves knitted.”

  Maude nodded. “I’ll gladly help.”

  “Same here,” Flora replied.

  “I think that’s a great idea, Dora,” I told her. “And I’d be more than happy to participate.”

  A huge smile crossed Dora’s face. “That’s wonderful. I knew I could count on most of you.”

  “Oh, for goodness’ sake,” Raylene sputtered. “I’ll help too, of course.”

  “That’s kind of you,” Dora said. “I’m sure the family will appreciate it. Now, time for our snack. Berkley brought some blondies tonight.”

  “Oh, I haven’t had those in ages.” Corabeth shot me a smile.

  “And I’ll help you serve,” I said, getting up and heading toward the back room.

  “That Raylene is so nasty,” Dora whispered. “But at least we’ll get a few scarves out of her.”

  I chuckled as I began placing the squares with chocolate chips and nuts onto a platter.

  As we sat around eating and sipping coffee, I decided the time had come for me to see what I could find out from this group about my mother.

  When there was a lull in the conversation, I cleared my throat. “Um . . . there was something that I’ve been meaning to ask all of you,” I said, and felt everyone’s eyes on me as I looked down at my mug. “One of the reasons that I moved to Cedar Key was because I did want to live in a small town . . . but I also had another reason.” All of a sudden that reason seemed scary to me, and I had to admit that as much as I wanted to know the answers, I was concerned about what I might find out. I looked up and saw Chloe nod, giving me the bit of encouragement that I needed. “Well . . . see . . . my mother . . . she actually came here back in 1972. For the entire summer.”

  “Really?” Flora said in surprise. “Were you with her?”

  “No. I wasn’t. And that’s part of the reason why I’m here now.” I went on to explain my story and about the postcards.

  “So that’s how you discovered that it was actually Cedar Key that she came to?” Corabeth leaned forward in her chair. “My goodness, that’s quite a mystery to grow up with, isn’t it? Your mother and grandmother refused to talk about it and now you’re looking for answers.”

  “Exactly. Her name was Jeanette Whitmore, and since many of you have lived here all of your lives . . . I thought perhaps you could help me to discover some of those answers.”

  The room was silent for a few minutes.

  “Jeanette Whitmore,” Flora said thoughtfully. “And you say it was 1972?”

  I nodded, but nobody in the group seemed to show any recognition when they heard my mother’s name.

  “Gosh,” Dora said. “So many people have come and gone from this island over the years. It’s hard to keep track. But if she was here for a whole summer, I would think she had to work someplace. Do any of you recall employing a young woman by that name?”

  Heads began to shake and my confidence at finding answers quickly evaporated.

  “No, but many days I can’t remember what I had for breakfast,” Flora said, causing the women to chuckle. “So we’ll all think about this. Jeanette Whitmore, and she would have been twenty-seven years old.”

  “Do you have any pictures of her?” Dora asked.

  I let out a deep sigh. “As silly as it sounds, no. We never owned a camera, and my mother hated having her photo taken. I was shocked to discover that after she died, when I was going through her things, the few pictures that I recalled we had were no longer around. She must have thrown them out. I really don’t know.”

  Corabeth nodded. “Some families just didn’t save photos. But that’s a shame.”

  “Oh,” I said, as I had a thought. “My aunt in Atlanta might have some. I can give her a call and find out. She’s supposed to be coming to visit me in a few months.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Chloe said. “And in the meantime, maybe all of you could put your thinking caps on. It just might come to you that you did know her.”

  “And sometimes it’s better to let sleeping dogs lie,” I heard Raylene mutter under her breath.

  She could be right—but I hoped that she wasn’t.

  11

  Ten minutes before I was due to open the shop on Saturday morning I was arranging a fresh batch of my signature clams in the display case when I heard the doorknob rattling. I looked up to see Raylene Samuels and let out a groan. God, this woman was so unpleasant. I hated to begin my workday with her, but I knew she’d continue to rattle that doorknob until either it fell off or I opened the door. I chose the latter.

  “Good morning, Miss Raylene,” I told her while forcing a smile to my face.

  “I’ve yet to discover what’s good about it,” she said, following me inside.

  “Well, maybe another supply of chocolate clams will perk you up.”

  “I seriously doubt that, but I do want a pound.”

  No please. No thank you. No manners whatsoever. Yup, Saxton had been right. This woman was a piece of work.

  I slipped on a glove and began filling the box when the chimes rang and I looked up to see Mr. Carl walk in.

  “’Mornin’, Berkley,” he said, a smile covering his face. “And a good morning to you as well, Raylene.”

  “If you think so,” she said, not even bothering to cast a glance in his direction.

  “Oh, I do,” he told her. “I always say that any morning that I wake up on this side of the grass is a good one.” He chuckled, and I joine
d him.

  I put the seal on the box and looked to see that the sour expression on Raylene’s face hadn’t softened at all.

  “Here you go,” I told her, and repeated my phrase even though I knew that no nice reply would be forthcoming. “I hope you’ll enjoy them.”

  She passed the cash across the counter, took the box, turned around, and walked out the door.

  I stood there shaking my head at Mr. Carl. “You’d think it would be much easier to be nice than nasty,” I told him.

  “Oh, I don’t think Raylene means to be nasty. It’s just her way, ya know. I think that deep down inside . . . why, she might be just as sweet as those chocolates.”

  The man was joking, right? Either that or he just liked to see the good in people. Even if they didn’t harbor one ounce of it.

  Not wanting to get into a discussion on personalities, I shrugged and said, “So what would you like today, Mr. Carl?”

  I had another busy Saturday with both locals and tourists and by the time five o’clock came, I was more than ready to rush upstairs to prepare for my dinner with Saxton.

  By six-thirty I’d managed to shower, change into a clean pair of shorts and tee shirt, put together a hamburger casserole that was now in the oven, and mix up a batch of coleslaw. The no-knead bread was tightly wrapped in wax paper waiting to be sliced.

  I stood gazing around the living room and let out a deep sigh. Everything in its place. A tray with two wineglasses sat on the coffee table. I’d placed a platter of cheese and crackers beside it. Pillar candles flickered on the end tables and the sound of Enya’s mystical Celtic music filled the room. My eyes strayed to the urn on the credenza.

  “Yes, Mom,” I said. “We’re entertaining tonight, so behave yourself.”

  I had walked over to rearrange my cluster of crystals next to the urn when I heard the knock on the door; I opened it to see Saxton standing in the hall holding a bottle of wine in the air.

  “For us,” he said, a huge smile covering his handsome face.