Jamie was outside, preparing a stretch of fencing for a fresh coat of paint. Claire watched his progress from the window. He was scrubbing the old paint off with a wire brush and seemed to be doing an able job.
Jamie had given his best effort at all the tasks asked of him over the weekend and had also been very helpful with the guests, seeming eager to keep them comfortable, running in and out of the dining room, or up and down the stairs, for their many requests.
Claire was pleased to see him making such a sincere effort. Liza seemed pleased so far, too, which was a relief. Claire felt so responsible for Jamie doing well. She knew she had put Liza in a difficult spot by asking her to hire him.
“I can’t believe I slept so late. You must be serving lunch by now.” Claire turned from the window as Avery walked into the kitchen. Though she was dressed in brown cargo pants and a pale blue tank top, she still looked half asleep.
“Not quite. You’ve been working hard. You needed the rest. Your body will tell you what you need if you listen to it.”
“I think it’s telling me now I need some coffee. Lots of coffee.” Avery met Claire’s glance with a small smile as she lifted her mug for her first sip of the day.
“I hope it said you need some food, too. There’s some scrambled eggs and bacon in that covered dish. And banana muffins on the table, too.”
Avery took a seat at the kitchen table and helped herself. “This looks good, thanks. I didn’t eat much last night. When I’m cooking I smell the food so much, I lose my appetite.”
“Really? I can’t say that’s ever happened to me. With all my taste tests, I must be eating my full share in the kitchen. Then I sit at the table and have even more,” Claire confessed.
“That is the danger of being a professional cook, too much tasting. Though we get plenty of exercise.” Avery took a bite of muffin, closing her eyes a bit to savor the flavor. “I hope I get a chance to watch you in action sometime, Claire, and learn some of your recipes. I’ve heard you’re a real genius with shellfish.”
Claire laughed at the compliment. “Oh, my. I don’t know about that. My cooking is pretty basic New England fare. But I would be happy to have you in my kitchen anytime, Avery. That would be my pleasure.”
Avery had been at the inn for a full week. She hadn’t had time to search for a rental on the island. Liza had generously offered a long-term rate for the next few weeks, so Avery wouldn’t have to worry about her housing situation on top of getting the café off the ground.
Avery rose and brought her dishes to the sink. “That hit the spot. I’ll see you later.” She picked up her big handbag and slipped on her sunglasses. Claire wished her a good day and continued cleaning the kitchen.
By eleven, the inn had emptied out. The Rapps and Foxes were the last group to go, and Mr. Rapp stopped by the kitchen to say good-bye to Claire.
“You let me know when that cookbook is ready. I have friends in the publishing business.”
He had teased her about this before. Claire smiled and nodded. “Yes, Mr. Rapp. I haven’t forgotten about your connections. I’ll let you know when I get to work on it.”
She was sure he wasn’t serious, though it was a very nice compliment. She had no idea how she would ever go about writing a cookbook, even if she wanted to. Practically all her recipes were in her head and the few that were written down were so stained by kitchen spills and annotated with changes over the years, they were all but illegible. It would be a real winter project, she decided, one that could take a few winters.
She had just finished mopping the floor when Liza appeared in the doorway. She looked very pretty in a floral-print cotton dress and sandals with heels, her long hair gathered at the back of her neck. Her city outfit, Claire called it.
“Well, I’m off. I guess we won’t be back until late. Don’t worry about dinner for me,” she added.
“All right. If anything changes, just call.”
“I will. Jamie can help you clean the rooms upstairs,” Liza added. “Where is he?”
“He’s out back, working on the fence behind the barn. He’s been scraping all morning.”
“Oh, right.” Liza looked as if she had forgotten about telling him to paint the fence. “He can leave that to help you inside. It will be too hot to paint out there in a little while anyway.”
“Right.” Claire had thought of that, too. Besides, he couldn’t go much further with the job. They needed to buy some primer and paint.
After Liza left, Claire headed outside to check on his progress. A blue, cloudless sky arched above and the sun beat down mightily, though it wasn’t even noon, searing the back of her neck as she walked across the property.
She found Jamie scratching at the pickets with the brush in one hand, the other hand holding his cell phone to his ear. He was laughing at something and didn’t notice her standing there. Suddenly he turned. He clicked off the call and stuck the phone in his pocket.
“A friend of mine has a problem. I had to talk to him a minute.”
“All right.” She looked over the pickets. He had missed a few spots. More than a few. But the new paint would cover it, she reasoned.
“I couldn’t get it all. I did the best I could.”
He looked at her, wondering if she was going to tell him to do the work over, she guessed. He wasn’t even a third of the way done. She thought he would have gotten further by now.
“As long as you get most of it off. The primer will help. But you need to press the brush harder,” she added, doing a patch herself to demonstrate. “Maybe some steel wool would help. We can get some when we run into town later for the paint. Liza went into the city today. You and I will clean the rooms. You can get back to this later.”
“Fine with me. It’s getting hot.” Jamie put his hat back on, then followed her back to the house.
Cleaning the guest rooms was not the most appealing job, she thought, but it was easier than scraping paint off a fence.
It was past one o’clock by the time they’d cleaned all the bedrooms and baths. They had decided not to stop for lunch until they were completely finished. The beds were left without sheets but Claire liked to make them up right before the room was occupied, so the linens smelled fresh.
While Claire fixed lunch—ham and cheddar sandwiches with fresh coleslaw on the side—Jamie carried several baskets of laundry down to the laundry room in the basement.
Claire sliced a juicy tomato to top the sandwiches. It seemed like such a luxury to have a young man around doing the heavy work. That alone was worth an extra salary.
Jamie gobbled his sandwich then made himself another.
Claire realized he must have been hungry awhile and had agreed to put off lunch to be a good sport. She would think twice before suggesting that idea again. She was nibbling the last of her own sandwich while he ate dessert, chocolate cream pie left over from Sunday night’s dinner.
“This pie is awesome. It’s the best thing I ever ate in my life.”
Claire laughed at the extravagant compliment. “You said the same thing about the coconut cake on Saturday,” she reminded him.
“Right. I did. But if I had to live on a desert island, I’d take the pie,” he said decisively.
Claire had never considered that scenario, eating pie on a desert island. “That would be more like a dessert island,” she quipped. “Given the choice, I’d take the pie, too,” she added. “And I’d also take some utensils, so I could cook with the local ingredients.”
Jamie smiled at her reply. “When are we going to town? I need to pick up some stuff at the drugstore. If we can make a stop,” he added.
“I suppose we could.” Claire sipped her iced tea. She had been thinking of skipping the trip to town today. She really wanted to get started on the laundry. She didn’t like to leave it piled up down there, even for a day.
But what would Jamie do all afternoon? He had finished the jobs on Liza’s list, and Claire didn’t know what else needed fixing. She could ask him to clean the porch and water the flowers, but that was really busywork and the flowers shouldn’t be watered until late afternoon when it cooled down.
“I can go myself if you’re tired,” he suggested. “I could get the paint and my stuff and stop at the grocery store for you.”
He had misread her delay in answering. But that wasn’t a bad idea. He could go by himself. Why not? If she stayed here, she could have all the wash done by suppertime.
“I think that would be all right, if you promise to drive safely. The Jeep can get a little finicky in the heat. But it’s a short trip. It shouldn’t bother you.”
Jamie listened attentively. She could tell he was hiding a smile. He was feeling a bit cooped up, she guessed, and eager to be on his own awhile. He had been here since Friday and hadn’t even had time for a swim.
While he washed up and changed his T-shirt, she made a list of items they needed at the hardware store and a few at the supermarket. Then she drew a map of Cape Light’s Main Street on the back. She handed it to him along with the car keys and a fifty-dollar bill. “If you get lost or can’t find something, just call me.”
“Okay, see you later.”
Claire watched out the window as he started up the Jeep and turned onto the main road. She suddenly had second thoughts about letting him take her vehicle. Just nerves, she told herself. She hoped he was a careful driver. She hadn’t even stopped to ask him about that. But what would his answer have been? Of course he would say he was a good driver.
Well, this was bound to happen sooner or later. Running errands was part of his job. Claire reminded herself that so far, at least, he had done nothing to suggest he wouldn’t be trustworthy and responsible.
* * *
AVERY worked alone at the café on Monday. Her staff did not arrive until four, and they wouldn’t open for dinner until five. She busied herself with small jobs, checking how much food they had used up over the weekend and tallying up the receipts.
The guest checks from the grand opening weekend added up to a number that was anything but grand. Avery knew she had to do better if she was going to stay in business. She put the accounts aside, poured herself a big glass of iced water, and went outside to get some fresh air.
She sat at an umbrella table and watched the ocean awhile. The beachfront was quiet today, almost deserted compared to the weekend. Not that the beach crowds had helped her much. She really had to figure out a way to take advantage of that.
She leafed through a pile of local newspapers and circulars, trying to see where she could place more advertisements. Maybe people were just reluctant to try a new place that hadn’t been reviewed. She had to work on bringing reviewers in, too.
What’s Happening in Cape Light? seemed like a good place to start. It was a large-format tabloid. A scenic shot of Cape Light Harbor was featured on its glossy magazine-type cover. The magazine was published every week and was mainly advertisements—ads for everything from B&Bs to renting Jet Skis—with a few articles about local attractions and lists of things to do in the area.
Avery cut out a few ads from other restaurants that caught her eye. She was so intent on cutting neatly, she didn’t notice Mike walk up to the table until he was peering over her shoulder.
“Looking for a place to eat out? There’s a cute café that just opened on Ferry Street.”
She turned and forced a smile. It would have been funny if the café had done better business over the weekend. As it was, his gentle joke felt like a jibe.
“Hi, Mike. What’s up?”
“Nothing much. How are you? Recovered from the weekend?”
She glanced at him, then back at the magazine. “I was surprisingly tired, considering how little business we did.”
I might as well say it before he does, she reasoned.
He looked at her a long moment. She hoped he wouldn’t gloat. “It’s the stress. No question,” he said finally.
He sat down at the table without waiting for an invitation. He looked very attractive today, in a white polo shirt and sunglasses. A light breeze ruffled his dark hair. He looked tan and fit, without a care in the world. She wondered what he did for a living when he wasn’t running the Tuna. Maybe he was one of those restaurant owners who did so well during the summer, they took the fall and winter off and wandered around the Caribbean or Hawaii.
She decided not to ask him. If that was true, it would be too depressing to think about right now.
“Hey, I know your place was slow this weekend. But don’t panic.” His quiet tone drew her attention.
She put down her scissors and looked up at him. “Slow is not the word. Torpid. Deserted . . . Forlorn?”
“Hey, what did I say? Don’t panic.” He said it again, even slower. He had slipped off his glasses and stared at her. She suddenly noticed he was touching her shoulder. “It takes time to build a following, Avery. We’re not exactly on the middle of Main Street. People have to find you out here. Then it becomes a fun place to visit for dinner. A destination.”
She knew that but felt better hearing him say it.
“And you can’t compare this place with the Tuna,” he added. “We’ve been here nearly thirty years. People who went to the Tuna as kids are bringing their own families now.”
Avery sighed. “I hope it doesn’t take that long for the Peregrine to catch on.”
She couldn’t last the summer, serving only four or five tables a night. But she didn’t admit that to Mike. For one thing, she already knew what he would say: “Don’t panic.”
The words did calm her, she had to admit. Especially when he said them.
He looked at his watch. She hoped he was getting ready to go. She enjoyed talking to him, but she just felt too awful right now about her failed grand opening, and the only way she would feel better was to take some positive action. Like calling up the advertising department at What’s Happening in Cape Light? Not hanging out with her biggest—albeit, very attractive—competitor.
“What time does your crew come in?” he asked.
“About four.” It was already three. Avery hoped she had enough time to make her phone calls.
“Want to take a walk on the beach?”
His invitation surprised her. When she hesitated he said, “I bet you haven’t even been out on the beach once since you got here, have you?”
She wanted to deny it, but it was impossible to lie looking into those big brown eyes. “I wanted to, but I haven’t had a chance. I don’t really have time now either,” she added.
“Just what I thought. At least come out and walk the boardwalk? Have you seen Mrs. McNulty’s tube collection? I’d love to show you the highlights. I think she even has the Loch Ness Monster. Do you think kids really like that, or are they scared to death?”
She couldn’t answer the question but couldn’t help laughing at it, either. He was referring to Sunshine Sundries, right next to the café, and the vast collection of water toys and tubes displayed out front. The Loch Ness Monster was not much of an exaggeration. From where she sat, Avery could clearly make out a shark, a whale, and even some kind of giant squid thing with tentacles.
“That is a tempting invitation.” She was teasing him back now, and he seemed to enjoy it. “But I have to take a rain check. I have too much to do.”
He looked disappointed, and she wondered if she should change her mind. Then he shrugged his big shoulders. “It is getting late. I probably ought to get back to the Tuna. I have to get things rolling for the dinner rush.”
Dinner rush? Did he have to use that exact term?
Any qualms she’d had about refusing his invitation vanished. It was Monday night, for goodness sake. Who had a crowd on a Monday? But Aver
y didn’t doubt that if anyplace did, it was the Lazy Tuna.
She felt even more resolved to stay at the café. She was too worried about her business to enjoy the beach right now anyway.
“See you around,” Mike said as he started to go. “Don’t forget what I told you,” he added.
“I won’t,” she promised. Was it his simple but sound advice that had calmed her down—or just his natural charm? Either way, she couldn’t help smiling as he turned and strolled away.
Avery opened up the magazine then snuck another look at Mike. He had slipped on his sunglasses and walked down the street as if he owned it. As if he owned the whole boardwalk . . . the whole island, for that matter.
She hoped she hadn’t hurt his feelings when she’d turned down his invitation. She certainly hadn’t meant to; it just all happened so fast. But he seemed pretty sure of himself. He had probably forgotten about it already.
Mike Rossi was quite a character. He was nothing like the men she was used to meeting. In fact, he was the complete opposite of the type she was usually attracted to. She remembered when she had first fallen for Paul; he had seemed so sophisticated with his fine clothing and his knack for always being ahead of the latest trend. Whereas Mike was running a restaurant that hadn’t changed since 1960. But she did like him. She couldn’t deny it. Not to herself, at least. She enjoyed talking with him and even liked his corny jokes, and the way he teased her.
But she didn’t have time for a relationship right now, and she had definitely learned her lesson about men in the restaurant business. And besides all that, wouldn’t it be a dumb idea to get involved with her only competition on the entire island?
Sorry, Mike, I guess you’re ruled out on a few counts.
And I hope I can remember that, next time you come around with your charming smiles and helpful advice.
* * *
CLAIRE folded a crisp, clean sheet, but her mind was not on her task. Jamie had left at two o’clock and should have been back around half past three or even four. But she had not heard from him and only got his voicemail when she called his cell phone.
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