The Way Home

by Katherine Spencer

  She looked up at him. “How about you? It sounds like you enjoy being a counselor. Would you like to run a restaurant all year round if you had the chance?”

  He shook his head. “Three months running a restaurant is just right. And six months in a high school is more than enough,” he added with a pleasant laugh. “It’s a good balance. I have nothing to complain about. My life is good. I wouldn’t change a thing,” he added. “Well, maybe one thing . . .”

  He met her gaze across the table. She had the feeling he was going to say he would like to have someone special in his life, a special relationship . . . the kind he had with his wife.

  She wished she had that, too, though she truly had her doubts about whether she would ever find a man who would put up with her hours and her craziness about the café.

  “What’s that one thing?” she asked him.

  “Nothing. I’m fine. No complaints. And this lunch was awesome. I won’t need dinner tonight.”

  “Me either,” she agreed. She looked out at the rain. It was still falling, though not nearly as hard now. “I guess it won’t hurt to lose the business for one day, but I hope we can open by tomorrow night. The lights will be on by then, don’t you think?”

  “Oh sure. Don’t worry. Next week is the big one. The Fourth of July makes up for a lot. Every place around here is packed on that holiday and then again on Labor Day.”

  From her experience at other restaurants, Avery already knew that would happen. But being so close to the beach would multiply the phenomenon many times over, she expected. She certainly hoped so.

  “My mother and sister are coming for a visit then. They want to see the café. I’m glad it will look busy.”

  “They haven’t been here yet? Where do they live?”

  “Not far. In Connecticut. But my sister doesn’t get much time off from her job and my mother can’t drive here on her own. She’s getting older.” Avery paused, wondering how much she should confide. But the low lights and his warm smile encouraged her to say more. He had told her about his wife. She felt safe to share a few of her own secrets.

  “My mother helped me when I got turned down by some banks. She gave me a big loan from her savings to start the business,” Avery confided. “It was money she had set aside for her retirement. I hope I can repay her.”

  He listened thoughtfully. “Your mom gave you all the start-up money?”

  “Most of it. I had some money from selling a piece of jewelry . . . a diamond ring someone gave me,” she said vaguely. She met his glance then looked away.

  His head tilted back a bit. “You mean, like, an engagement ring.” It wasn’t a question. It was more his wanting her to clarify this disclosure.

  “That’s right. We ran a restaurant together. We were planning to get married but . . . it didn’t work out.”

  “Oh, that’s rough,” he said sympathetically.

  “It was. For a long time. But I’m okay now,” she insisted, though she wasn’t sure she was entirely. “I’ve turned a page and I’m starting over, all on my own,” she added, which was true.

  “Yes, you are. And I get it now,” he added.

  She wasn’t quite sure what he meant by that. But she wanted to get off the subject of her failed romance. She had told him the whole story. Practically. They had been having such a pleasant time, sitting here talking. She didn’t even want to think about Paul.

  “So, getting back to your mother, she loaned you a load of dough. That’s a lot of pressure.”

  “It is,” Avery agreed flatly. “I didn’t realize it at the time. I probably wouldn’t have even asked her if I knew.”

  His dark eyes were soft and sympathetic. “You’ll be all right. Don’t worry. Things are picking up here. If you have good food, people will find you. And you do have good food,” he added with a smile.

  “Thanks. You’re not just saying that because you have to, are you?”

  Mike laughed. “Of course not. This food is great, top-notch. Have more confidence in yourself, Avery. That’s all you really need.”

  She smiled at him. Mike had an abundance of that ingredient. If only he could bottle it, she would definitely buy some.

  “I’ll tell you the truth: Starting with that pizza night of yours, my numbers have been down. I think I actually have to take this place seriously,” he confessed.

  Avery’s eyes widened. “You mean, you weren’t taking me seriously before?”

  He laughed, realizing how much he had admitted. “Well . . . our menus are so different . . .” He paused. “So not really, no. But I am now,” he added quickly.

  “That’s sort of a backhanded compliment, but I’ll take it. So we’re giving the Mighty Tuna a run for the money?”

  “Hey, I wouldn’t go that far,” he teased her. “And I just want to warn you, next Tuesday, Taco Night? I’m bringing in a mariachi band.”

  He sat back with a How do you like that? smile on his handsome face.

  Avery rose and picked up a few of the dirty dishes. “Do what you have to do.” She shrugged. “I have a few more surprises planned, too.”

  “Like what? More fancy-schmancy sliders?” Mike got up and began to help her.

  “Like . . . none of your business. That’s what.”

  He looked surprised but amused by her tart reply. He set some dishes in the sink and stood facing her. “Hey, that’s not fair. I told you about the mariachi band.”

  Avery shrugged. “That was your choice. I don’t have to give away all my secrets if I don’t want to. You’ll just have to wait and see.”

  He laughed again. “Well, I guess I don’t have to make room in my cold box for all your melting food, either. You’ll just have to wait and see if the electricity comes back on.” He made a big show of checking his watch. “Let’s see . . . we’re getting perilously close to the spoilage deadline.”

  Avery just stared at him. “You’re blackmailing me?”

  He looked shocked by the word. “Avery, please . . . No need to get nasty about this.”

  “You are too much. Do you really want to know my plans that badly? I think you’re scared,” she said, suddenly realizing what was really going on.

  “Are you kidding?” He laughed at her but the sound was a little hollow. “No way. This café is pretty cute and you’re doing better. But you’re no threat to the Tuna. Sorry to disappoint you.”

  “And you’re a terrible liar. But that’s an admirable quality.”

  Among many he possessed, which she was just beginning to recognize.

  He looked surprised. “Wait. Did you just give me a compliment?”

  Avery glanced down, feeling embarrassed. “Yes, I did. I can think of a few more, too. Like you’re generous and kind. And very funny . . . and smart,” she added. “And I do appreciate how much you’ve helped me. Even though I don’t always show it . . . and I have no idea why you’ve been so nice to me,” she admitted.

  He looked surprised but pleased by her compliments. His smile was full of affection. “I don’t know. Maybe because you try so hard?” He shrugged and took a step toward her. “I just . . . I just . . . oh boy . . .”

  Before he could finish his sentence, he put his hands on her waist and pulled her closer and she found herself in his arms. She met his dark gaze for one instant and then felt his lips on her own, warm and soft, the taste of the tartly sweet pie lingering.

  She twined her arms around him and felt lost in his embrace, his warmth and rock-hard strength. She wasn’t sure what had prompted her outpouring of compliments, but she had meant every word of it.

  She hadn’t thought much of Mike when they first met. He was definitely an acquired taste, one that she had come to appreciate more with every passing day. He had become an advisor and a friend. But Avery knew their relationship could be so much more. An
d that was the part that truly surprised her. And scared her. Right down to her toes.

  She heard a dull humming sound. Then the lights flickered and came back on. They stepped apart. She felt dazed and suddenly shy. She glanced up at him, wishing her heart would stop racing.

  “Your food is saved,” he said quietly.

  Avery had to laugh. Of all things to think about right now. “Yes, I guess so. Just in the nick of time.”

  “Divine intervention. Someone is looking out for you, Avery.”

  “No question.”

  It had to be her father, she thought. If there was a heaven, she was sure her dad was there, playing bridge and watching baseball games. Her father would have liked Mike Rossi. She was certain of that.

  With the lights on, the kitchen suddenly looked different. Like a kitchen again, nothing romantic about it.

  “Looks like the rain slowed down,” Mike said peering out the window. “I guess I’ll get going,” he added, pulling on his cap. “Thanks again for lunch. It was four stars, all the way.”

  “You’re very welcome. Thanks for the review,” she added, getting her bearings back. “Maybe you can send it to a newspaper, or post it for us on the Internet?”

  He laughed. “Right. I’ll think about it.”

  They stood together at the kitchen door. Mike had his hand on the doorknob but made no move to open it.

  He’s close enough to lean down and kiss me again, Avery realized. She had a feeling he was thinking the same thing and was about to do just that. She met his glance, suddenly wanting him to—then recoiled at this errant thought.

  You can’t get involved with Mike Rossi. He’s kind and attractive and smart. He’s all those things you told him he is. But it would never work. Never in a million years, a little voice warned her.

  “Well, this was nice. See you around.” He leaned forward and dropped a quick kiss on her cheek. Then he darted out the door and splashed through the puddles in the alley behind the shops, dodging raindrops all the way.

  Avery leaned out the doorway a minute and watched him until he was out of sight. She closed the door, suddenly feeling very odd. She felt . . . lonely. Which made no sense. She hadn’t felt that way when she and Paul split. But something about Mike just filled a room with energy and laughter. Whenever he was around, she felt so alive and so safe.

  She was falling for him. Falling really hard.

  Avery couldn’t believe it. She shook off the thought like a dog coming in from the rain. It was just the quiet, cozy lunch and all the confidences that they shared. It was just another of those hit-and-run kisses of his . . . I shouldn’t put too much stock in the feelings I have right now.

  She sat down on a stool and took a sip of cold water.

  Splash some on your face while you’re at it, a chiding little voice advised. And snap out of it!

  Wasn’t that a quote from a famous movie? Oh, right. Moonstruck. When Nicolas Cage tells Cher he loves her, and she slaps him across the face.

  Moonstruck would be a good choice for tomorrow night, one of her all-time favorites. She started to clean up the dishes from lunch again, wondering if Mike liked that movie, too.

  Chapter Eleven

  “WE’LL need to have two seatings for dinner, one at six and one at eight. Even if we put more tables on the patio and the porch, it will still be tight,” Liza said, thinking aloud. “And we’ll have to worry about the weather.”

  Liza stared at her computer, which stood open on the kitchen table. For the past half hour, she had been mulling over strategies to handle the crowd of guests that would check in over the Fourth of July week. With so many people to accommodate, it was important to keep everything running smoothly.

  “We’re always crazy busy on the Fourth, but the holiday falls on a Wednesday this year, just one week from today,” Liza said to Jamie. “Some people are taking vacations before, and some people are taking the time after. So we’ll be booked up from this coming Friday right through to next weekend.”

  “That’s good, isn’t it?” he asked.

  “Absolutely.” She paused to smile at him. “I don’t mean to sound like I’m complaining. But it’s hard to maintain a certain level of service when there are so many guests here. We want everyone to leave feeling one hundred percent satisfied. As if this is a place they would return to, and recommend to a friend.”

  “And it’s just the three of us to handle everything,” Claire put in. “That’s why it’s so important to stay calm and focused on what you’re doing—and do that one job thoroughly, without worrying about the next. Whether you’re making a bed, or setting a table, or sweeping sand off the porch. ‘Whatsoever you do, do it heartily, as to the Lord and not to men,’” Claire advised, adding one of her favorite quotes from Colossians.

  “Win them over, one bowl of chowder at a time?” Jamie teased her.

  “Exactly. God is in the details,” Claire reminded them. “Even in the chowder. If you want to get silly about it.”

  “That’s very true, Claire,” Liza agreed, her gaze fixed on the computer screen as she typed a few notes to herself. “Speaking of chowder, let’s work on the menus.”

  “I thought you’d never ask.” Claire sat back, happy that Liza had come to her favorite planning task at last. She glanced at Jamie, wondering if he was bored and wanted to go.

  He still seemed interested and focused on the conversation, making suggestions of his own here and there. Like an extra table with coffee and tea out on the porch in the morning when the inn was at full capacity. He had noticed how guests crowded around the single urn in the dining room. “Like sea gulls fighting over a French fry,” he told them.

  The image made Claire laugh; it was a very apt description.

  She was glad Liza had included him in their planning session. Claire hoped Jamie felt more involved in the inn, having a say in how things were done. It was important to show him they respected his opinion, and he wasn’t just taking orders all the time.

  He had worked hard since their talk and Liza’s decision to let him stay. Claire hadn’t caught him on his cell phone, talking or texting, even once during work hours. Even Liza had noticed these changes, though she told Claire privately it would take more than a week of good behavior to dispel all her doubts.

  Claire understood her caution. She prayed each night for God to help him stay firm in his commitment to change his life and keep him from falling back into old ways again.

  “I’ll just close this file and get the menu charts up.” Liza clicked the mouse a few times then sat back and expelled an impatient sigh. “It froze again. I can’t believe it. I just had this stupid machine fixed!”

  “Oh my, I can’t help you there,” Claire said. “I’d have better luck fixing a washing machine or the lawn mower.” Claire rose and looked around for a pad and pen. “Why don’t we just resort to the old-fashioned way . . . writing things down?”

  “Can I take a look? Maybe I can fix it.” Jamie had also gotten up from his chair and now peered over Liza’s shoulder.

  She glanced back at him skeptically. “Do you know a lot about computers?”

  He shrugged. “A little. I’m not bad, fooling around with them.”

  Liza hit a few more keys on the keyboard. Claire could tell by her expression that she wasn’t making any progress.

  “I guess you could have a try,” Liza said to Jamie finally. “You won’t mess it up worse than it is, will you?”

  “I don’t think so. If I do, you can take it out of my pay.”

  “Oh, I won’t do that. I’m the one who froze it . . . Here, give it a go. I have all the reservations on there and the billing and everything. I always tell myself to back things up but I rarely do,” she admitted.

  Jamie sat down next to her and she turned the laptop toward him. Claire went to the
sink and filled the kettle. Jamie coming to the rescue with Liza’s computer was a surprising turn. She felt a bit nervous about it, though, and couldn’t bear to watch him. She hoped he knew what he was doing, and it wasn’t just that high-tech bravado men had around these sorts of gadgets.

  Claire asked if they wanted tea, but they both declined, not even looking at her. They sat shoulder to shoulder, their heads bent over the computer screen.

  “Oh . . . how did you do that?” Liza asked, sounding pleased and surprised. “I can never find that screen.”

  “You just turn it off and then on again and hit this key combination.” Jamie showed her his trick.

  “Wait, I’m going to write that down.” This time Liza did take the pen and pad Claire had found and eagerly made a note.

  By the time her tea was brewed, the computer crisis was solved. Jamie had even changed some setting that would save the day if this were ever to happen again. Which was unfortunately very likely, as far as Claire could see.

  She still wasn’t sure what was wrong with good old paper and pencils. She had never had any problems with that method.

  “Where did you learn how to do all that?” Liza asked Jamie as she happily took over the computer again and set up her menu planner.

  “I had a job once in the stock room of this company, and the IT guy was stuck back there, too. In a little cubicle. We hung out and he showed me things.” Jamie leaned back in his chair. “Most of my friends have computers and I fix stuff for them. Nothing too complicated. They’re usually just playing video games.”

  Claire didn’t doubt that was true. Jamie would need a computer if he was going to get back to school, even to study for his GED. Perhaps Liza would let him use hers for that purpose, now that she knew he wasn’t going to harm it. But she was getting ahead of herself. Jamie hadn’t even agreed to study for the diploma equivalency test.

  Claire had picked up some information at the library and talked to her friend Vera Plante about it. Vera had taught history at the high school for many years and earned extra income now tutoring. The test covered five subject areas and it was not easy, Vera had told her. But not impossible. Nothing was impossible with God’s help, Claire knew.