The Way Home (19 page)

“That would be great. Claire has made lunch for you here, so why don't you and Christine come right after lunch? The café will be empty, and I'll have a little time to show you around.”

Avery partly dreaded her sister and mother seeing the Peregrine. Not because she was ashamed of how it looked, but because business was still erratic. Some of her theme nights—pizza and a movie and Lobster Sliders—were going well. Other nights, the café was far too quiet. Traffic had picked up, but it was still slower than she wanted. The Peregrine was not yet what anyone would call a success.

But they don't know that. You aren't open for lunch so it's fine if the café is empty,
she reminded herself.

Still, she felt as if she was only putting off the inevitable. Embarrassment and disappointment on her part and her sister's long-suffering looks.

She only hoped that the crowds of Fourth of July visitors would save her. Even if they didn't rush into her café and fill every table, she hoped the place would look lively enough.

After one of Claire's delicious lunches, Avery took her sister and mother to the north side of the island, explaining that it was an up-and-coming area, a perfect opportunity for new businesses.

“Oh, isn't this charming?” her mother said as they drove past the ferry station. “I bet that ferry ride is fun. Why don't we try it, Christine? I read about the town on the other side, Newburyport. We could go shopping.”

“How many times a day does the ferry run?” Christine asked, ignoring their mother's suggestion. “Is the fare expensive?”

Avery didn't want to admit that she didn't know. “It runs very frequently. Even more on the weekends and holidays,” she added, thinking that must be true.

The dock did look very busy with people coming and going off the island. A ferry had just arrived, and a throng of island visitors was crossing the street to the boardwalk.

Dressed in shorts and T-shirts, or sundresses over bathing suits, they carried umbrellas, beach chairs, and bulging tote bags, marching along like the invasion of a small, disorganized army. Small children, toting plastic pails and sand toys, brought up the rear. A few families had even brought dogs. Avery could practically smell the sunblock in the air.

“Well, it seems like you have a lot of potential customers around. For such an out of the way place,” Christine observed. “Of course, it is the Fourth of July. Every place is crowded.”

Avery didn't answer, steering her SUV into a space near the Peregrine.

“My, look at that view. Can you see the water from your restaurant, honey?” her mom asked.

“We have a great view. I opened up the front with big glass doors and made a patio,” Avery replied.

“How romantic . . . I can't wait to see it.”

A few moments later Avery was unlocking the front entrance as her mother admired the French doors she had just described.

“How lovely. It reminds me of a wonderful old restaurant your father and I liked to visit in New Orleans. I sang there once,” she added, smiling wistfully.

“Maybe you could sing here sometime, Mom,” Avery said, thinking that would be a nice idea. She had been looking for some live music.

“Oh, no, I couldn't,” her mother demurred. “I haven't performed for years . . . Well, maybe if I got my voice back in shape. We'll see.”

When Avery got engaged to Paul, her mother had promised to sing at their wedding. Avery wondered if she remembered. If she did, she never mentioned it. Avery was grateful for that.

Once inside, her mother and sister were full of compliments for the decorating and atmosphere. Though her sister was not without a few needling comments and questions. “How many people can you seat in here at one time?” she asked as she began counting the chairs. “I read that the rate of turning tables over is really critical to a restaurant's bottom line. I think they say you can't let people take more than forty minutes for a meal.”

Avery knew that some people made a science out of figuring how to maximize profit in a restaurant. Though she wanted to be efficient, asking her waitresses to carry a stopwatch wasn't her style.

“That's very true. There are more seats outside, Chris,” Avery added, directing her through the glass doors.

While Christine went outside to survey the patio, Avery stayed inside with her mother. Helen watched her older daughter a moment and shook her head. “She likes to count things. She's always been that way, since she was a little girl.” Helen shrugged and turned back to Avery. “You've done a wonderful job, Avery. It's a beautiful restaurant. Everything is so stylish and still relaxed. Beachy,” she added, smiling. “And look at that view. Anybody would love to have a meal here. You found a perfect place, honey.”

“I hope so, Mom.” Avery felt very pleased that her mother “got it.” It was good to have her here. It meant a lot to hear her mother's words of praise, more than she had even expected.

“I can't wait to try the food. Should we come tonight?”

Avery wasn't sure the café would be crowded tonight and tried to steer them toward Saturday.

“I guess you could,” she said vaguely. “But Claire had a lobster bake planned at the inn tonight, to welcome Fourth of July guests. I thought you and Chris might want to do that, and come to the café tomorrow night. There might be some fireworks on the beach tomorrow night, too.”

Christine had come back inside and heard the last part of their conversation. “I think we should have the lobster dinner at the inn, Mom. I mean, meals are included and we're paying for it,” she reminded her.

Saved by Christine's calculator,
Avery thought.

“Oh, all right. That sounds nice, too,” Helen said agreeably. “I love lobster. But you won't be there, honey?”

“Sorry. I have to stay here until at least midnight. But maybe we can go to the beach tomorrow morning. I think you should take my car back and drive around to see the cliffs,” she advised. “Someone will give me a ride home later.”

“Good idea. We ought to get in some beach time, Mom. We can go see those cliffs, and I think there's a lighthouse somewhere, too.” Christine had a guidebook in her purse and pulled it out.

“Sorry you can't come with us, honey.” Helen gave Avery a kiss good-bye on her cheek. “Don't work too hard. I just love this place,” she added. “I'm going to take a lot of pictures to show my friends. Maybe we'll come back for a girls' weekend sometime.”

“Good idea, Mom.” Avery was glad to see her mother enjoying herself. But her mother was the type of person who rarely complained and seemed delighted wherever she went. It was, Avery reflected, a very rare talent.

* * *

T
HE
brief visit with her family had been fun but exhausting. Avery was eager to get to work. Gena, Teresa, and Jack arrived, and they began to set up the café and prep food for dinner.

“Sorry, Avery. Courtney couldn't start tonight. She had to drive her folks to the airport. It's a long story—” Jack began.

“That's all right. You don't have to explain.” Avery didn't have the time for a long story right now. “Does she still want the job?”

“Oh, yeah. She wants it. She'll be in tomorrow, I promise.”

“Okay. Tomorrow then. In the meantime, we'll all have to help Gena. That's all we can do.”

The dinner hour was busy but not completely unmanageable.

Avery thought it was just the right amount of customers, especially shorthanded. She now regretted that she had not told her sister and mother to come. She would have felt some relief getting their visit over with.

But tomorrow night should be even busier and make the café look more successful, she reasoned. That was the main thing.

* * *

B
E
careful what you wish for.
Avery recalled the old saying as she peeked out at the dining room on Saturday night. It was only six o'clock, and the tables both inside and out were filled, and more people stood in line, waiting to be seated. She felt her heartbeat quicken. This could be their biggest night yet. Perfect timing for her mother and Christine, who would be coming in soon for dinner.

“Wow, what a crowd! People are coming down to see the fireworks,” Gena said as she swooped through the kitchen. “Did Jack's girlfriend get here yet? I thought she was going to be here by five.”

“I don't know what happened to her. Teresa went to ask him.” Avery had no sooner mentioned her name than Teresa marched into the kitchen.

“Bad news, no Courtney. The lovebirds broke up.”

“What do you mean, no Courtney?” Gena demanded. “I can't handle all those tables on my own.”

Gena was usually so cool and levelheaded, the sane one of the group who often calmed Avery down. Avery felt a prickle of alarm as she realized her ace waitress was in a panic. But something in this scenario wasn't making sense.

“What's the difference if they aren't dating?” Avery asked. “Courtney accepted the job.”

Teresa threw her hands up. “You know kids. I spoke to her myself. She says she's sorry but, ‘It would, like, be, like, too weird.' Then she hung up.”

Avery took a deep breath. “Okay, let's just calm down a minute and figure this out. We'll all just have to pitch in, like we've been doing since Serena left. We'll be fine,” she told the others, though she hardly believed it.

“That was barely working when we had no customers,” Gena moaned. “How will it ever work tonight? The customers are going to freak out. We might as well give up now and claim there was a kitchen fire or something.”

For a single desperate moment, Avery considered the idea.

Teresa, bless her soul, was undaunted. “Get a grip, Gena. I know how to waitress. It's not exactly rocket science.” The feisty little woman pulled off her white apron and pulled out a black one with the café's logo, the silhouette of a peregrine falcon, on the front pocket. “I'll take the patio and the bottom half of the dining room, up to the photo of the lighthouse. You've got the rest.”

“Okay, you're on. Want some lipstick?” Gena offered up a tube, and Teresa looked at it doubtfully. “Take some, you need it.”

“Oh, all right.” Teresa swiped on some glossy pink lipstick and suddenly looked about ten years younger. She forced a fake smile. “Welcome to Café Peregrine. My name is Teresa. I'll be your server tonight,” she recited.

“That was pretty good. I didn't even know you were paying attention at those rehearsals,” Avery said.

“There's not a lot that gets by me. You two ought to remember that.” Teresa pushed through the kitchen doors and headed for her customers.

“Good luck in here,” Gena called over her shoulder as she followed. “And don't worry, I won't let Jack mope. He can bus and run food. It's all hands on deck.”

Avery smiled but didn't have time to reply. She was already busily attacking the orders, making up four arugula and goat cheese salads and a crab cake appetizer, working as if she had six arms instead of two. With Teresa out of the kitchen, she would need a few extra tonight.

Though the waitstaff shortage was patched over, there were more speed bumps to come. They were serving so many more customers than usual, Avery ran out of two of the specials before her sister and mother even arrived.

When they did arrive, Avery wasn't even able to go out and say hello. The kitchen was backed up with orders, and both Gena and Teresa were desperate to keep the food flowing.

Despite everyone's sympathy and pep talks, Jack was dragging around, looking heartbroken. Which made Avery even doubly mad at the mysterious Courtney. Couldn't she have waited until July fifth to dump him?

“Jack, clear table nine and serve these desserts at seven,” Gena barked at him. He nodded and floated off like a sleepwalker.

“Just what we needed tonight. A heartbroken, zombie bus boy,” Gena said, grabbing two orders of lobster bisque off the serving counter. She checked the rest of the order. “How's that striped bass coming?” They had been substituting striped bass for the halibut since seven.

Avery had just emerged from the cold box. “Small problem . . . We're out of bass. I'm out of . . . everything. Where did all the food go? I thought I bought more than enough for the entire weekend.” She stared at Gena feeling an acid taste of panic rise in the back of her throat.

Gena put down the dishes she was holding. “Take a deep breath, Avery. Just calm down. This happens at places. It's not the end of the world . . . Don't we have anything in the freezer? Like some shrimp or chicken wings?”

“Chicken wings?” Avery stared at her. Just what she wanted to serve her sister tonight. Christine would take an hour choosing an entree and then end up with chicken wings?

“Oh, you know what I mean.” Gena caught herself, realizing how ridiculous the question actually was. “A spare tire in the trunk, that's what I'm asking . . . Frozen ravioli?” she asked hopefully.

Avery sighed and shook her head. “We haven't been in business long enough to have any extra supplies like that. That's something bigger restaurants do.”

“Bigger restaurants . . . like the Tuna?” Gena asked. Before Avery could reply she added, “Maybe Mike can give you some food. Why don't you call him?”

Avery felt her heart clutch at that suggestion. Mike was the logical choice here, and she was sure he'd help her. But she felt too embarrassed to ask him. “I can't,” she said simply.

“Sure you can. He'll be happy to help. He likes you, Avery. I know he does,” Gena answered quickly.

Avery felt herself blush and hoped Gena thought it was just working over the hot stove that made her cheeks fiery red. “What would I say? ‘I'm running out of food. Can you loan me some?'”

Teresa nodded. “I think that would work.”