by Zara Keane
“Ugh. I’m sorry, Noreen. No one with a lick of sense will believe it.”
“I hope not. I can’t afford to lose any more customers, especially this time of year.” Noreen’s lips twisted into a wry smile. “You know the most annoying part? I know Sandra is trying to get my license to serve alcohol revoked, but I can’t prove she’s behind the smear campaign. And because this is a small community, I have to grin and bear it when she swans into my place to attend a club meeting.”
“All the while making snide remarks about you and your café?” I shook my head. “Like mother, like daughter. Melanie’s a pain, but she didn’t stand a chance with a mother like Sandra.”
My aunt shot me a quick glance. “You’re bound to run into Melanie and Paul while you’re on Whisper Island. Are you okay with that?”
To my disgust, the pain of Paul Greer’s betrayal still nagged at me. Not as deep or sharp as Joe’s, but the hurt—or the memory of that hurt—lingered. First loves left their mark.
“I’m okay with seeing Paul again.” I hoped this was true. “I’m less thrilled with the idea of encountering Melanie, but I’ll deal.”
Melanie had been my childhood nemesis. The fact that Paul had picked her to cheat on me with had made the situation worse, but we’d all been kids. Had Paul and I not had the added frisson of a long-distance relationship with three passionate summers spent together, we’d have fizzled out pretty quickly. Beyond his undeniable good looks and charm, Paul and I hadn’t had all that much in common. I was the American girl who’d spent summers on the island, and he was the handsome and wealthy local boy who’d swept me off my feet. I’d spent our long months apart pining for him and convinced we were destined to be together forever. He, apparently, had used my absences as an excuse to move on to the next available girl. Melanie just happened to be the one he’d gotten pregnant.
“I didn’t think Paul and Melanie’s marriage would last,” my aunt mused, “but ten years and four kids later, they’re still together.”
“Which is more than can be said for my marriage.” I fingered the dent left by the wedding and engagement rings I’d removed the night my marriage had ended.
My aunt reached across and patted my arm. “Don’t worry, love. We’ll fatten you up and find you a good Irishman. I have a few candidates in mind.”
“Oh, no.” I straightened in my seat, alarm bells sounding in my mind. “Please, no matchmaking. I am so not in the mood for a man right now.”
“Maybe it’s a little soon,” Noreen conceded, “but give it a few months, and I’ll hook you up with a nice fella.”
“I’m only staying on Whisper Island two months.”
Noreen snorted and waved a hand in a dismissive gesture. “So you say. Let’s talk about that in a few weeks, eh?”
I opened my mouth to protest the point but closed it again without saying a word. Arguing with Noreen was pointless. When she got an idea into her head, she clung to it with ferocious tenacity. Besides, after two months of having a houseguest, she’d be thrilled to be rid of me.
“Oh, before I forget…open the glove compartment, will you? There’s an old mobile phone in there that you can use while you’re on the island.”
I opened the glove compartment and slid out a battered cell phone that looked several years old. My heart swelled at my aunt’s thoughtfulness. “Thank you so much, Noreen.”
“It’s a pay-as-you-go deal, so you’ll need to keep it topped up with credits. And it doesn’t have any of the bells and whistles of a modern phone.”
“As long as it works, I’m happy. I’m reluctant to use my U.S. phone over here in case I rack up crazy charges.”
My aunt swung the car to the left and took the road toward Smuggler’s Cove, the town that over half of the island’s five thousand residents called home.
“Tell me about your café,” I prompted, keen to divert the course of the conversation away from my checkered love life. “You were vague on the phone.”
Noreen laughed. “I wasn’t vague. You weren’t listening.”
She was probably right. I’d been hung over the afternoon she’d called me with the job offer and surrounded by boxes that contained the remnants of my married life. “Yeah…I’m sorry about that.”
“Don’t be. You were going through a tough time. We’ve all been there, love.”
A lump formed in my throat. My immediate family—mother, father, and siblings—hadn’t understood why I’d quit the police department as well as my marriage. When Noreen had called and offered me the chance of a time-out from my life, the soothing lilt of her Irish accent had comforted me, and I’d agreed to come to Whisper Island on a whim.
“The day you called, I’d just moved the last of my stuff out of our—out of Joe’s—house. I wasn’t in good shape.” I bit my lip and blinked back hot tears that I was determined not to shed. Joe Maitland wasn’t worth the loss of moisture.
“You’re welcome to stay with me as long as you like. Who knows? Maybe you’ll grow to love the island so much that you’ll never leave.” She flashed me a sly grin. “I’ll even teach you to cook.”
“I’ll happily take you up on the cooking lessons, but this is a temporary stop for me. I’m a city girl at heart.” Thanks to my Dad, I qualified for an Irish passport and didn’t need to worry about an employment permit.
“Sure, what does a city have to offer that we don’t? Apart from pollution, traffic congestion, and crime? Any interest or hobby you have, the likelihood is that we’ve got a club for it. And if there isn’t one, start one. That’s what I did.”
I suppressed a smile. While my father had left Whisper Island the instant he’d finished school, Noreen had never left. Their sister, Philomena, had lived on the mainland while getting her college degree, but she’d moved back a few years later with her young family in tow.
“How are Aunt Philomena and Uncle John? And Julie and the boys?” I’d been close to my cousin when we were kids. To my regret, we hadn’t kept in touch. I’d invited her to my wedding, but she’d been backpacking in Australia and hadn’t been able to make it.
“Philomena is the very same.” Noreen rolled her eyes. “Still bossing people around, both at the library and the various clubs she’s involved in. John’s construction business hasn’t done well since the property boom ended, but he’s hanging in there. Both Jack and Luke are living in Dublin. As for Julie, she’s back on the island, teaching at the primary school and, as I mentioned before, teaching Irish language evening classes. She said she’s looking forward to catching up with you.”
“That’ll be nice.” My heart swelled at the thought of reconnecting with my cousin. I could do with a friend, assuming we still had as much in common as we’d had as kids.
Through the car window, the rolling hills and winding road gave way to straight streets and a marked increase in buildings. We entered the town of Smuggler’s Cove a moment later and drove down the main street past a variety of shops, restaurants, and businesses, their signs bathed in the light of the streetlamps. Many of the names were familiar to me, but there had been changes over the years. I scanned the storefronts as we drove past. “Which one is your café?”
“That’s it to your right,” Noreen said with a note of pride in her voice, “wedged between the news agency and the greengrocer’s.”
I peered out the window and sucked in a breath. A hand-painted sign proclaimed The Movie Theater Café. “Oh my goodness,” I gasped. “You renovated the old cinema? I always loved that place.”
My aunt pulled into the free parking space outside the café and killed the engine. “When I told your mother about my plans, she commissioned the sign.” She chuckled. “I didn’t have the heart to tell her we call movies ‘films’ in Ireland, but I don’t think my customers care. In fact, much of the summer crowd is American tourists. They find the name charming.”
“It is charming. I remember thinking it was such a shame that the building was derelict.” I unbuckled my seat belt and got out of
the car, taking in the sight of the old-fashioned billboard under the café’s sign. It read, Showing this week: The Breakfast Club 07:30 to 11:00.
“Clever,” I said, nodding toward the billboard. “I guess breakfast includes a traditional Irish fry-up?”
“Of course. We also cater to those with smaller appetites, though. We serve a variety of muffins, scones, croissants, and granola, as well as sweet treats galore.” My aunt extracted a key from her voluminous purse and opened the door of the café. We stepped inside.
“Oh, wow.” I sucked in a breath and soaked in the details. The café was housed in the foyer of the movie theater. The accordion doors had been replaced with one door to the left and a row of floor-to-ceiling windows that stretched to the other wall. The concession stand now served as a bar, and sported an impressive Italian coffee machine as its centerpiece. Comfortable-looking leather chairs surrounded wooden tables that were each named after a vintage movie star. The box office appeared to be the place where people paid for their food and drinks, as well as collected information on upcoming island club events. I turned to my aunt. “You’ve done a fantastic job with the renovations.”
“Thanks.” My aunt grinned at me. “You used to play make-believe in here with Paul when you were kids, remember?”
My cheeks grew warm. I’d done a lot more than play in the movie theater with Paul Greer the last summer I’d been on Whisper Island. And look how that had ended… I shoved away the memory of my naive eighteen-year-old self and flexed my shoulders. “Will you give me the grand tour before you put me to work?”
Noreen’s smile stretched wide. “With pleasure. As you can see, this is the café itself. The kitchen is back here.” She led me through a door behind the concession stand and into a small but well-equipped kitchen and gestured for me to take a look around. “I cook traditional Irish breakfasts all morning. My lunchtime menu is limited in the winter—just sandwiches, soup, and a hot meal of the day. You’ll be well able to handle the cooking when I’m getting my wisdom teeth out tomorrow.”
I jerked up from the cabinet full of mysterious utensils I’d been examining, banging my head in the process. “Um, you know I was serious about burning water, right? Waiting tables, I can handle.”
“I’ll soon teach you to cook, love,” Noreen said with a confidence that I didn’t share. “We have a whole day before I leave for the mainland.”
Oh, boy. One day to transform me from Queen of the Microwaved Ready Meal to Baking Goddess? My aunt had no idea what she was up against. “Speaking of your trip to the hospital, who’s looking after the petting zoo while you’re gone? Because much as I love you, I draw the line at shoveling animal excrement.”
Noreen’s crackle of laughter was infectious. “You’re off the hook. I’ve asked Paddy Driscoll to feed and water the pigs, the goats, and the alpaca. All you’ll need to do is open a few tins of cat food and feed the dog.”
“The dog is no problem, but I’m not sure the cats like me.” Roly and Poly had made their disdain for me clear the moment I’d thrown them off the bed last night. I hadn’t met the rest of Noreen’s cats yet, but I anticipated a mutually lukewarm reaction.
“Oh, they’ll get used to you.” My aunt beamed at me. “Poly is expecting, but you probably won’t need to deal with her kittens.”
My jaw dropped. “Wait a sec…you’re leaving me in charge of a pregnant cat? Labor and delivery are not my areas of expertise.”
“Don’t worry. Poly’s not due for another couple of weeks. Now, let’s look at the part of The Movie Theater Café that I know you’ll love.” My aunt took my arm and dragged me out of the kitchen, moving at a surprising speed for a woman of her size.
Noreen stopped outside the door of the movie theater. When she threw open the door, I sighed with pleasure. The theater looked like a photo out of one of my aunt’s vintage movie magazines. The red velvet seats had been restored to their former glory, as had the curtains that framed the stage. A chandelier hung suspended from the ceiling, adding to the old-world vibe.
“What a great place for clubs to meet.” I ran a hand over the plush red velvet upholstery. “They have seating, a stage, and a big screen. Which clubs use it?”
“Now let me see…” A crease formed on my aunt’s forehead as she rattled off the clubs’ names. “There’s the Whisper Island Knitting Society on Mondays; the Quilting Queens on Tuesdays; the Historical Society on Wednesdays; their enemies, the Detectorists, share Thursdays with the Unplugged Gamers; and the Golden Age Movie Club and the Vintage Mystery Book Club share Fridays.” Noreen beamed. “No prizes for guessing that I’m the founder and president of the Movie Club, and Philomena is the president of the book club.”
“Both the movie and the vintage mystery clubs sound amazing. Do you watch old movies together and discuss them after?”
My aunt bobbed her head. “We watch a film once every month, but some of us choose to meet more often to chat, take care of club admin, and just have fun. When many of our film discussions touched on the books that the films were based on, Philomena suggested we add a mystery novel book club to complement the Movie Club. So now we watch a film on the second Friday of the month, and we hold a book discussion on the last Friday of the month.”
I picked up a flyer from a table by the entrance. “What do the Unplugged Gamers do?”
“They play board games. I guess the name is to differentiate them from video game fans.” My aunt tapped on a name at the head of the flyer I’d picked up. “Do you remember Lenny Logan? You might have met him with Julie.”
I scrunched up my forehead. “The name sounds familiar.” A memory stirred. “Wait a sec…the stoned guy? The one with the mullet and the Star Trek T-shirts?”
Noreen threw back her head and roared with laughter. “That’s him. Lenny’s lost the mullet, but he’s otherwise unchanged.”
The bell over the entrance door chimed. I replaced the flyer where I’d found it. “Sounds like our first customer of the day has arrived.”
“It’ll be someone looking for a take-out coffee or a full Irish breakfast.” My aunt raised an eyebrow and threw me a look of challenge. “Want your first cooking lesson?”
“Want, no. Need, yes.” I gave her a mock salute. “I’m yours to command.”
Laughing, my aunt bustled out of the movie theater and back into the café. Before I followed her, I cast another look around the gorgeous room, and my heart swelled. Maybe life on Whisper Island wouldn’t be boring after all.
3
My first day at the café passed in a haze of burned sausages (me) and freshly baked scones (Noreen). By six o’clock, my feet and my back ached, and I was looking forward to shooing my aunt’s cats out of her bathtub and enjoying a long soak. I loaded the latest pile of dirty dishes into the dishwasher, wiped my sweaty palms down the front of my red apron, and switched on the machine. Voices floated into the kitchen from the café, including my aunt’s hearty laugh.
A pang of guilt gnawed at my stomach. A day to learn to cook was not going to cut it, and I didn’t want to let my aunt down. Noreen’s kindness in offering me a refuge to recharge and reassess my life had been a godsend. The least I could do was give her the reassurance that her café was in good hands while she was in the hospital. At the rate I was going, I’d have the local fire department on speed dial.
When I rejoined my aunt behind the food and drinks counter, she was chatting to a dark-haired wiry guy in a hooded sweatshirt, who was chewing on a toothpick. He turned to face me, and his bony face split into a grin. “Hey, Maggie. What’s up?”
“Maggie and I were just talking about you earlier,” Noreen said, although I didn’t need her hint to identify the man. The scraggly beard was new and the mullet was gone, but I’d have recognized Lenny Logan anywhere.
“Hey, Lenny. Long time no see.” I stretched out my hand, and Lenny pumped it with more strength than I’d given him credit for.
“Julie told me you were coming back to the island.” Lenny moved
his toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other. “You planning on staying long?”
“For as long as she likes,” my aunt said.
“For a couple of months,” I corrected.
“Awesome,” Lenny drawled. If Fillmore from the movie Cars had had an Irish accent, he’d have sounded just like Lenny. “You gotta come to one of our club meetings.”
“For your Unplugged Gamers?” I grinned. “The last time I played Monopoly, I went bankrupt. And if I recall correctly, it was a game lost to you.”
“Yeah, you were a terrible player,” Lenny said, matter-of-factly, “but you might prefer one of our strategy games. Ever tried The Settlers of Catan?”
“Nope.”
“That’s a good one for beginner gamers. Wanna join us next Thursday evening?”
“I’d love to, but…” I glanced at my aunt. “Am I scheduled to work then?”
Noreen shoved her glasses into place and consulted a printout next to the cash register. “Yes, but as long as you’re willing to serve Lenny and his friends food and drinks, I have no problem with you joining their game.”
“In that case, I’ll see you then, Lenny. Thanks for the invitation.”
“Hey, no problem. We meet here two Thursdays a month, and the other weeks we hunt aliens. You’re welcome to join us.”
“I…” I stared at him open-mouthed. “Lenny, I don’t know what to do with that information. You hunt aliens?”
“Well, kinda.” His pale blue eyes grew serious. “Me and Mack—do you remember Mack McConnell?—we take our stargazing equipment into the hills and look for UFOs or any sign of extraterrestrial life.”
“Every found any?”
“Just the odd UFO,” he said, his expression earnest, “but no landings.”
“Lenny,” I said, struggling not to giggle. “When you guys go alien hunting, is there any smoking funny stuff going on in those hills?”
His gaze shifted to Noreen, and then back to me. “Um…maybe?”