The Way Home (24 page)

“Yeah, I thought you might. But I couldn't stop to call and waste more time. I know you must have been thinking I stopped to see my friends and hang out.”

Claire felt her body grow tense, but she didn't turn around.

“I didn't mean that,” she said.

“You're a bad liar, Claire. It's all right. I sort of deserve that. I hope you and Liza can trust me now; that's all I'm trying to say.”

“We do trust you, Jamie,” Claire said sincerely. “You've earned it. You've come a long way in the last few weeks—working hard and studying.” She turned to look at him. “I'm very proud of you.”

She could see he was embarrassed by the praise and maybe didn't quite believe it.

“Well . . . thanks. I'm trying. I don't know that I've done anything that spectacular. Except to keep the rabbits and deer out of the vegetables.”

Claire smiled. “That, too, but I mean it. Liza feels the same. But I hope that you're proud of yourself. That's the most important thing.”

He shrugged and leaned back in his chair. “I'll be proud if I pass that test. But it's going to be hard. I'm not sure I can do it, and I hate to waste your money.”

“Vera says you're doing very well. You have several more weeks to study. Besides, you can take it again and again. The important thing is that you're trying. You'll get there. Don't worry.”

Jamie looked down at the table, fiddling with the crust from his sandwich. “If I do pass, it's because you helped me so much. I just want to thank you, Claire—you and Liza—for giving me a second chance here, and pushing me to get my diploma.”

“Oh, Jamie, I'm happy to help you. The test is just a small part. No matter what happens, no matter where your life takes you, there will always be a place for you with me. If not at this inn, then at my cottage. I want you to know that.”

Claire suddenly felt very emotional. It had been a trying day, a test for all of them. But they had come through it, and she felt as if a weight had been lifted.

Jamie glanced up at her. He looked confused. “Why are you so nice to me, Claire? I never understood. Why did you pick me out? There were so many kids at the shelter.”

Claire was surprised by the question. “Oh, I don't know. I always thought you picked me out,” she said, with a small smile. She paused and waited until he looked at her again. “It was because God put love in my heart for you,” she added in a more serious tone. “I love you and have faith in you. And I know that God loves you even more and wants you to thrive, to work hard and do right, and use the talents and smarts He's given you. I'm just a helper. A messenger, you might say.”

Jamie slowly smiled. “I'm not a big churchgoer or believer, like you. But I'm starting to think maybe there really is a God up there who tries to help people. I can't see any other way I could have been lucky enough to meet up twice with someone like you . . . I love you, Claire. You're the only one who's ever really helped me.”

Claire was deeply touched by his admission. She didn't know whether to laugh or cry and ended up doing a bit of both. He smiled at her and rose from his chair, then gave her a hug as he walked by.

“I guess I'll go up and change for dinner. Liza likes me looking smart when I serve these big parties.”

Claire nodded and wiped her eyes. “Yes, you do that. We have to get the hors d'oeuvres set up by half past five. I think the hardest part is over,” she said quietly.

The hardest part of this gala bridal weekend . . . and for Jamie and his struggles, she really meant.

* * *

A
VERY
arrived at the café around ten o'clock on Wednesday morning.

A reporter from the
Cape Light Messenger
had finally visited the café and given it a great review. Avery had immediately bought a frame and was trying to decide where to hang it. Somewhere near the front door, visible to the outside—but somewhere where people waiting inside could see it, too?

She checked a few spots, walking inside and outside the restaurant. The problem was, she actually needed more than one copy of the article. Or more than one good review. But it was a very good sign. And she was very proud.

She propped it up in a spot near the front door and stepped back to check.

A small child in a pink helmet whizzed by, so close behind her she felt a draft of cool air. Avery spun around just in time to see a little girl on a pink scooter fly past the restaurant, then slip to one side and crash into a pile of Mrs. McNulty's blow-up water toys.

Avery ran to help her. “Are you all right?”

The little girl pushed herself up on her hands. She was sitting on the head of an inflatable dolphin. She looked a bit dazed but unharmed. Avery crouched down to talk to her. Her helmet had fallen forward and Avery pushed it back from her eyes.

Big dark eyes and dark brown hair. She was very cute. And looked very familiar somehow.

“Are you okay?” Avery asked quietly. “Does it hurt anywhere?”

The girl shook her head but still didn't answer. Mrs. McNulty ran out of her store and hurried over to them. “Emily, are you all right? You shouldn't be riding that thing so fast. I'm going to call your father.”

“I'm all right. I am,” Emily insisted, standing up on thin wobbly legs that stuck out from a pair of pink shorts. “I can go back on my own. Please don't call him.”

Mrs. McNulty's phone rang. “Well, as long as you're not hurt. Oh dear, I have to answer that.” And she headed back into her store.

Avery was left to comfort the little daredevil. “Don't cry, honey. It's okay. Where do you have to go?”

Emily looked down at her sneakers. “To the Tuna, just down the street.”

Avery stared down at her. She was Mike's little girl. That's why she looked so familiar.

“Do you want me to walk you? Are you sure you aren't hurt?” She had taken quite a tumble. Maybe she was hurt and didn't want to admit it.

“I'm not supposed to go anywhere with strangers,” she told Avery in a serious voice. “I shouldn't even talk to you.”

“That's right. But I know your dad. I can call him for you.”

But before she could say more, Emily picked up her scooter and ran down the sidewalk, heading back to the Tuna. She jumped on and pushed with one foot, then disappeared quickly from view.

Avery practically started laughing. Then she saw that Emily had forgotten her helmet. She picked it up and followed.

Halfway down the street, it hit her again, the thought that she had never been inside the Lazy Tuna. Open for two months just a few yards away from her main competitor and never set foot in the door. She had meant to go, dozens of times. But once she met Mike, she had felt intimidated—or possibly too stubborn and proud.

But here she was, hat in hand. Helmet in hand, actually.

It was the perfect excuse to visit, and she did want to make sure Emily was really all right.

The first thing she noticed was the pink scooter, tossed by the entrance. The restaurant was open to the street and the big gate had already been pulled up, though all the tables and chairs were stacked against a wall. A busboy was busily mopping the dark green linoleum floor with strong-smelling cleaner. He stopped to let her pass.

“Is Mr. Rossi here?” Avery asked.

“Mike? Yeah, he's in the kitchen. Just go on back.”

Avery nodded and carefully proceeded on the wet floor. It was hard to watch her step. There was so much to look at.

She had imagined the inside of Mike's restaurant would be colorful, but the reality was beyond her wildest guess. The theme seemed to be “Under the Sea.” The walls and even the ceiling were covered with murals of undersea life. Smiling starfish, cross-eyed crabs, leaping lobsters and grinning sharks, an octopus wearing saddle shoes and horn-rimmed glasses. Mermaids and Poseidon with his trident . . . spearing a fish sandwich. And in the very middle of the sea life community, the Lazy Tuna himself, lounging in sunglasses and a Hawaiian shirt.

But there was more. Lobster traps and colorful striped buoys, tarnished lanterns and fake palm trees. Fish nets that hung from the ceiling with beach balls and plastic fish inside. Tiny lights were strung throughout, and Avery could just imagine what the place looked like at night. The tables were plain wood, painted blue and white. The chairs were standard, too. A few beach chairs sat near the door, in the waiting area, next to a real lifeguard's stand. She wondered if Mike ever sat up there with a whistle, keeping the crowd of diners under control.

All in all, very cute, she thought. Very fishy-kitschy.

She had just reached the kitchen when Mike came through the door, holding Emily by the hand. She looked up at Avery and pointed.

“There she is, the lady who helped me.”

Mike met Avery's surprised gaze. “I thought she was talking about you. I'm sorry she nearly ran you over.”

“Oh, I'm okay. I was worried that she hurt herself and didn't want to tell me. Here, she left her helmet.”

Emily grabbed it before Mike could. “Thanks.” She smiled, showing a gap where a tooth had fallen out. “I'm glad you helped me and not Mrs. McNutty.”

“McNulty,” Mike corrected her. He shook his head. “You know her name by now.”

Avery hid a smile. McNutty did fit fairly well, though she knew Mike was right not to encourage the nickname.

Emily glanced at her father and continued, “She gets very crabby. She doesn't like anyone touching her toys.”

“Can you blame her?” Mike asked. “She needs to sell that stuff. You can't use it like some big trampoline. I better go up there and make sure you didn't break anything.”

“I don't think she did,” Avery reported, winning another smile from Emily. “Though it was some landing. She's really fearless, isn't she?”

Mike tried to make a serious face at his daughter but wasn't quite able. “She needs to slow down and be careful.”

“I am, Daddy. Can I go out and ride again?”

Mike paused a moment, then nodded. “Don't go too far. Nana's coming to take you and Noah to the beach.”

He had a lot to juggle, didn't he? Running this place, his job at school, and raising his children alone. Any woman who got involved with him had to accept the whole enchilada.

Could I do that?
Avery wondered.
I've always wanted kids, but I keep putting it off in my mind to someday. When I get a business going. When I meet the right man . . .

Could Mike be the right man? It wouldn't take too much more to convince her, she realized.

“Sorry about that. I told her not to go that far,” Mike said, breaking into her thoughts.

“Oh, that's all right. I'm glad she's not hurt.”

“So you finally made it down the block to the Tuna. I was wondering if you would ever stick a toe in here.”

His tone was half teasing, but half serious, too. Avery suddenly felt a little embarrassed that she hadn't visited sooner. She had only seen him once or twice in the past week, she realized, strolling by the Peregrine.

“Sorry, I should have come sooner. But it's always so crowded, I never think I'll make it past the door.”

“So, what do you think? Is it everything you dreamed it would be?”

“Oh, it is. And more. Much more,” she assured him with a laugh. “Honestly, I love the mural. Was that your idea?”

“My dad's. He was a bit of an artist. We've all added a few embellishments over the years.”

There was a lot of history here, a lot of character, Avery realized. That's what made it so charming and unique. And so very popular. It didn't really matter what kind of food Mike served. People came here for the experience. For Mike, she realized. And she could finally understand that.

“What are you thinking, Avery? I've seen that look before,” he said in a wary tone. “Are you wondering how you can copy this magical . . . ambience?”

That word again. He never tired of teasing her about it, did he?

“Oh, I could never even try,” she said truthfully. “You've got the funky fish house beat totally wrapped up.”

He laughed. “Hope so. It's been my life's work . . . So how's the lunch shift going?”

“Pretty good. Business is up,” she reported. “And . . . we got a very nice review in the
Cape Light Messenger
last week. In case you didn't see it, I have a few hundred copies lying around. I could give you one. And there will be a good review coming on the radio this weekend. WCLR. So set your dial.”

“Sounds like the Peregrine is taking off. I'll have to step up my game,” he said with a smile.

Avery smiled back. He knew the Peregrine was still no threat to the Tuna, but it was nice of him to act as if it might be.

Before she could reply, a little boy walked out of the kitchen. He was eating half a peanut butter sandwich and wore a thoughtful expression. A few years older than Emily, he looked like a miniature Mike. He wore a nylon surf shirt, swimming trunks, nose plugs dangling around his neck, and carried a boogie board. “Is Nana here yet?”

“She'll be here any minute. I want you to meet a friend of mine. This is Avery. She owns the café down the street. Avery, this is my son, Noah.” Mike gently held Noah's shoulder, just in case he bolted, Avery thought.

“Hello, Noah, nice to meet you.” Avery smiled and extended her hand. Noah reciprocated, hesitating to meet her eyes.

“Hi,” he said simply. “Can I go outside and wait?” he asked his father.

“Did you drink your milk?” Mike pinned him with a stern gaze.

Noah nodded.

“All right. But wash your hands when you finish that sandwich. And try to find your sister. She's riding her scooter to California.” Mike rolled his eyes as Noah ran away. “He has his choice of thirty entrees, and all he really wants is peanut butter. I try not to take it personally.”