The Shore House: An emotional and uplifting page turner (Dewberry Beach Book 1)

by Heidi Hostetter

  They loved Dewberry Beach so much, they made plans to live there permanently. At the end of the summer in 2001, Eddie put in for a transfer to the Dewberry Beach firehouse and it was accepted immediately. Brenda enrolled the kids in the nearby public school, and the family planned to make their permanent home at the shore as soon as Eddie worked his notice in Manhattan.

  Two weeks later, on a bright morning in September, Eddie reported for his last day of active duty in Manhattan. Early that morning, his battalion received a call about a plane flying into the Twin Towers and at first it was treated as an accident, pilot error from the airfield in Teterboro. Eddie suited up with the rest of his crew and went to help. At the end of the day, the fire chief called for a final headcount and Eddie was one of the responders who didn’t return. Heartbroken, Brenda quit her job, sold their apartment in Queens, and moved her family to Dewberry Beach because that’s what she and Eddie had planned to do. Brenda had been living here full-time ever since.

  “What are you going to do?” Kaye asked softy.

  “I don’t know.”

  “What do you want to do?”

  “I don’t know that either.” Brenda’s voice cracked. “You know, it’s been twenty years. You’d think I’d be fine by now.”

  “No, I wouldn’t.” Kaye reached across the table for Brenda’s hand. “I wouldn’t expect fine. Eddie was an extraordinary man and we all miss him.” After a moment, Kaye rose from her chair. “Show me what you’ve been working on.”

  The studio breathed life into Brenda. Kaye watched the transformation as her friend described the oxide wash she’d ordered from Japan and the silver clay she wanted to try. Afterwards, they moved outside where Kaye helped Brenda plant a flat of violets in a shady spot of the yard. When they were finished, Kaye gathered the empty pots and shovels and put them away. She held open the screen door as they walked back into the kitchen.

  “Are you going to be okay?” Kaye asked.

  “’Course I am.” Brenda nodded. “We both are.”

  There was sense in what Brenda has said about the truth behind Stacy’s fear of the ocean coming from Kaye and no one else. Maybe Kaye could explain in a way that she’d understand. But when she returned home in the early afternoon, the house was empty. A flutter of notes on the kitchen counter were the only indication that a family lived here.

  From Brad:

  Took Iona to the mall. Will eat there and maybe see a movie. Don’t wait up.

  From Stacy:

  Ryan drove back home to work. He’ll be back tomorrow. Dad and I took the kids to the duck pond with the last of the bread. Will get more on the way back.

  And from Chase:

  Doctor’s appointment rescheduled from next week to August. Back later.

  At least they were all under one roof.

  Ten

  “It’s crowded today.” Chase looked through the windshield at the line of cars in the parking lot. “I didn’t expect it to be.”

  “I suppose after the crab crawl, everyone decided to come here for breakfast,” Kaye replied from her place in the passenger seat. “There’s one.” Kaye pointed to a car pulling out.

  Chase pulled in then turned off the ignition. As they crossed the parking lot, the cicadas began to sing, signaling the beginning of another hot day at the shore.

  “Our house party is next weekend—I hope it won’t be this hot then,” Kaye remarked.

  “I’m sure it will be fine.”

  “They’ve decorated for the Fourth of July already.” She gestured to swaths of bunting and miniature flags poking out from potted plants at the restaurant’s entrance.

  “Very nice,” Chase murmured, though he hadn’t noticed them. Could it be they’d been at the shore house a month already? Time seemed to have very little meaning without a job or a purpose to anchor him to the rhythm of the day.

  “Here they come.” Kaye brightened as she spotted Stacy and the kids moving toward them, and Chase’s mood lifted too. After all, they were about to have breakfast at one of his very favorite restaurants.

  Breakfast at the Parkway Diner had been part of the fabric of summers at Dewberry Beach since Chase was a kid. It was the kind of place that locals loved and renters remembered, with pancakes overflowing the edges of the plates they were served on, oniony home fries, fat omelets, and crisp, grill-toasted hard rolls. The coffee was hot and fresh and the refills frequent, by servers who were almost as old as the diner itself. The wait staff knew all the locals and got to know the renters, if they tipped well. Chase and his brother ad deferred all rewards for grades and achievements during the school year to the summer, so they could collect their prize in the form of a stack of chocolate-chip pancakes, extra whipped cream, and sometimes a waxy little candle pegged on the top. Chase hadn’t thought about those pancakes in years.

  His gaze skimmed the large dining room and he felt himself relax. The smell of warm bread and fresh coffee provided the background for a hum of quiet conversation and the delicate clink of silverware. It never changes, Chase thought. The Parkway Diner was always, reliably, the same.

  They were led to a large table by the window, which was impressive considering how busy the restaurant had become. They were seated immediately, bypassing several groups who had arrived there ahead of them. Kaye could be quite persuasive when the situation required it and Chase wondered what she’d said to the hostess.

  They table was set with a glass of ice water at each place, beaded with condensation dripping on the paper napkins below. In the middle of the table were coffee mugs filled with crayons for the children or anyone who needed to draw on the paper placemats. Chase held the chair for Kaye, then took his place beside her, snapping the paper seal on his rolled napkin and smoothing it on his lap. While his family settled in, his mind wandered back to the pancakes he and his brother enjoyed years ago and he wondered if they tasted the same now.

  The hostess distributed plastic-covered menus, pausing beside Chase. “Mr. Bennett, it’s good to see you again. We’re happy you’ve recovered.”

  Kaye covered his hand with hers. “Thank you for the card, Millie. It meant a lot to us.”

  When the hostess left, Chase leaned toward his wife. “They sent a card?”

  “About a week after you came home from the hospital; everyone signed it. Flowers too, I think.”

  “I didn’t see a card.”

  Kaye looked at him, confused. “Did you want to?”

  “Yes, of course. I would have liked to thank them.”

  She turned her attention back to her menu. “I thanked them for you. I wrote a nice note.”

  And that seemed to be the end of it.

  Ryan flicked open his menu and settled back in his chair to read the contents. “What’s good here?”

  “Everything,” Stacy replied as she glanced at her brother. They shared a look, an inside joke Chase didn’t understand that ended with Stacy rolling her eyes. “Almost everything.”

  They’d been sitting for several minutes, menus down, when a waitress Chase vaguely recognized came to take their order. Dressed in a standard yellow uniform with the Parkway Diner logo embroidered over her pocket and a green plastic nametag pinned underneath, she made her way to the table. “The Bennetts are at my station.” Her eyes crinkled when she smiled. “I’m glad you’re back.”

  “Thank you, Shelly. It’s nice to be back,” Kaye replied.

  Shelly. That’s her name.

  “You brought the whole family with you, I see?” Shelly’s gaze swept the table.

  “Yes,” Kaye offered. “You know Stacy and Brad already. And I think you remember Ryan, Stacy’s husband, and their children—our grandchildren—Sophie and Connor. And this is Iona, Brad’s friend.”

  “Girlfriend,” Iona corrected.

  Kaye allowed a quick nod of acknowledgement. There would be a reckoning later between Kaye and that girl, and Chase almost looked forward to it. Not for the drama that would follow, but for the spark in his wife’s eye as sh
e reminded the girl of her place. There was a time, after his incident, when he had looked for the spark in his wife’s eyes but couldn’t find it. All he had seen was worry. And fear. He was afraid that his illness had been too much for her, that he had been too much of a burden.

  Shelly shrugged as if the girl’s title didn’t matter in the slightest. She slipped her pad from her apron pocket and flipped to a new page. “Ladies first. What can I get you, Mrs. Bennett?”

  Kaye ordered, then Stacy next to her, and Shelly continued around the table. Everyone knew what they wanted. Ryan and the kids ordered, then Brad, and then it was Iona’s turn.

  “What can I getcha?”

  “I’m not sure exactly.” Iona reached for her menu and opened it.

  “Do you need more time?” Shelly shifted her weight and glanced at the tables in her area. They were filling up with customers who wanted attention.

  “No,” Iona said idly. “I have questions about the menu.”

  “Lemme hear ’em.”

  Iona paused, tilting her head as she scanned the menu’s contents. “Are your eggs responsibly sourced?”

  Kaye and Stacy exchanged a quick look. Ryan picked up a crayon and helped Connor work the maze on the placemat. Brad had no reaction at all, making Chase wonder how many times this type of thing had happened—his friend taking pleasure in behaving badly. It was a strange type of power play and Chase had seen it before at work. New hires flexing their muscles, eager to prove their worth. It didn’t end well there and it wouldn’t end well here, with Kaye. Iona was out of her league.

  “Our eggs come from chickens. Whether the chickens are happy or not, I don’t know. They don’t tell me.”

  Iona flushed at the comment but pressed on. “Can you at least tell me if the hash browns are vegan?”

  Shelly laughed, making no attempt to hide her disdain. “No, sweetie, they’re not. Javier has bacon grease spread on that grill all day long and nothing that comes off it would be remotely considered vegan. But if it matters, I can tell you the whitefish is fresh this morning and I think that part of the grill was just cleaned. You might want to go with that.”

  “Vegans don’t eat fish.”

  Shelly signaled to a nearby table that she’d be with them in a minute.

  “Toast,” Iona conceded. “Just toast. No butter.”

  Brad reached for her hand under the table, but she shook it off and pushed him away.

  When it was time for Chase to order, he knew exactly what he wanted. If this summer marked a new start, he knew the perfect way to celebrate it. “I’ll have chocolate-chip pancakes.”

  “You got it.” Shelly chuckled as she jotted the order on her pad. “You want whipped cream or butter with that?”

  “Both.” Chase raised his chin as he pictured his breakfast plate, the same as when he was a kid: dripping with syrup and pooling with melted butter.

  “Okay then.” The waitress collected his menu and tucked it under her arm.

  “Just a moment please.” Kaye spoke, her tone cutting through the conversation at the table. She had everyone’s attention.

  “Yes?”

  “I think we can do a little better than pancakes.” As she opened her menu, Chase heard the crackle of the plastic cover and felt frustration bloom in his chest. Kaye had been ruthless in seeing that he followed the diet plan the nutritionist gave him, but his heart attack was three years ago and that diet wasn’t meant to be a prison. Surely Kaye wouldn’t do this in front of the entire family?

  “Instead of pancakes, please bring my husband an egg-white omelet with vegetables only—no cheese—and a slice of whole wheat toast. No butter. And maybe a fruit cup on the side if the strawberries are ripe.”

  Kaye turned her attention to Chase and spoke to him in the same tone she used with Sophie. “Did you want fruit?”

  “No,” Chase said. His frustration turned to anger. “I do not.”

  This is where it ended. He would not accept a life of egg whites and weak, herbal tea. A life where his wife ordered for him, leaving him with no agency at all.

  Kaye folded the menu and handed it back. “Okay, no fruit then.”

  “I mean ‘no’ to all of it.” Chase spoke as politely as he could under the circumstances. “Shelly, please bring what I ordered.”

  But Kaye wouldn’t let it go. “Maybe egg whites and a side of pancakes instead?”

  “Kaye.” His voice was stern, a tone he hadn’t taken in years, and never with his wife. Despite seeing the color rise in her cheeks and feeling the attention of everyone at the table, he continued. “I am a grown man and if I want pancakes, then I will have them.”

  Kaye nodded and surrendered her menu without another word.

  The victory seemed hollow to him. It was an odd hill to plant his flag on, this order of chocolate-chip pancakes. He knew his tone had embarrassed her, that his order would cause Kaye to fret about his heart and cholesterol levels, but it was his heart and his cholesterol, and he wasn’t a child.

  In the end it was for nothing. The pancakes were overly sweet and didn’t taste anything like he remembered. That was the problem with chasing memories: they never stood still long enough to be caught.

  When breakfast was over, he paid the check and everyone went their separate ways. Iona and Brad to the jetty for pictures to post. Ryan and Stacy home to put the kids up for a nap. Kaye didn’t say anything at all and spent the afternoon in the garden.

  Eleven

  The Fourth of July was a big deal at Dewberry Beach, and if the holiday fell on a weekend, as it did this year, the celebration was even bigger. The festivities began with the Kids’ Parade, early Saturday morning. Every kid in town decorated their bike with streamers and glitter ribbon and, following tradition, had filled their bike’s basket with candy to toss to spectators lining the parade route. Getting Connor and Sophie ready for the parade had taken multiple trips to Applegate’s to gather supplies. Stacy had helped them clip playing cards to the spokes of their bikes and add tassels to their helmets, like she and Brad did when they were kids. It had been a tiring week, but worth it. By 8 a.m. Stacy and her children were positioned at the starting line, helmets on, waiting for the mayor to ring the cowbell to launch the parade.

  When the bell sounded, the crowd of kids surged forward. The older kids zipped ahead quickly, clearly trying to finish first. Parents of younger kids walked alongside, offering encouragement and placing a guiding hand on their handlebars to help them navigate the crowd. A few families had brought their dogs, accessorized with flag neckties, and kids too young for bikes were pulled in decorated wagons. In short, the Kids’ Parade was a knot of barely contained chaos from the starting line at the cheese shop to the finish line at Mueller’s, a distance of three blocks.

  “Mommy, I’m done.” Sophie pushed back on her pedal and stopped abruptly, dropping her bike.

  They’d traveled half a block.

  Stacy stopped and just missed getting nicked in the shin with a pedal from a kid behind them. She reached for her daughter’s bike. “Sophie, you can’t stop in the middle.”

  “But I’m hot.” She pushed the edge of her helmet away from her eyes.

  “I am too.” Stacy tucked a strand of damp hair behind her ear. Though it was still early, it was hot—and crowded. In the rush to get the kids ready on time, Stacy had forgotten her sunglasses and a hat. She could feel the sun scorching the part in her hair and a trickle of perspiration slide down her back. “We’re almost there,” she lied.

  “But I don’t have any candy left,” Sophie whined.

  “That’s because you gave it all away already. You’re supposed to toss a little at a time.” At the start of the race, Sophie had misunderstood the directions and dumped the basket’s entire contents. Now, she had nothing to throw.

  Sophie allowed her mother to guide her back on the bike, but she refused to pedal. As Stacy leaned over to grip the handlebars, the baby kicked sharply and Stacy winced.

  “You okay, Mommy
?”

  “Yes, but you need to be a big girl and do this yourself.” Sophie’s training wheels were dangerously close to Stacy’s heels. “Have you seen your brother?”

  Sophie pointed to Connor, riding with his friend Miles. They had already reached the finish line, at Mueller’s Bakery.

  “Soph.” Stacy straightened and pointed to Connor and his friend. “If you pedal—all by yourself—to the finish line, you’ll get a donut, any kind you want.”

  Sophie glanced at the finish line and nodded, accepting the challenge. “Okay.”

  And just like that, Stacy had become a parent who bribed her child with food.

  Stacy eventually caught up with Connor at the finish line. She gave the kids money and sent them into the bakery, then found a shady place to rest. The parade was supposed to be a family event, but one by one every other adult in the family had bowed out, leaving Stacy to manage the kids alone. She swatted a cloud of gnats away as she remembered their excuses: Iona’s sudden mall emergency that required Brad to drive her, Ryan’s work, the preparations for tomorrow’s party that required both her parents’ attention.

  Apparently, everyone was allowed to have outside interests except for her.

  Connor was the first to emerge from Mueller’s, holding his sister’s hand and half a donut, both of their faces dusted with powdered sugar. Stacy rose awkwardly to her feet. The baby wasn’t due for another three months but navigating this humidity had become uncomfortable.

  “You guys ready?”

  “Can we go to the beach now, Mom? Miles and his brother said they’d teach me how to boogie board. Can we go?”

  “I don’t think so, buddy.”

  Connor’s face fell. “But you haven’t taken us one time yet.”

  “I haven’t?”

  Connor shook his head.

  “We’ll have to see then.” Stacy guided them home.