Casting About (21 page)

“M
y God,” Grace said, wiping down the counter in the coffee shop. “That woman is a sandwich short of a picnic.”

I laughed and shook my head. “Yeah, I have to admit, she's something. I just couldn't believe those gifts she got Clarissa.”

“And then showing up three sheets to the wind. Nice. Very nice example to set for her daughter. What did poor Clarissa say about all of it?”

“I'm beginning to think that child has more intelligence than Carrie Sue could ever hope to have. When her mother left, she looked at Adam and asked if she had to wear that dress. He told her definitely not. Then she suggested donating all of it to Goodwill or something. I think I can understand why she really didn't miss Carrie Sue when she came to live with us.”

“Exactly. A kid knows where the love is. Since she arrived, both you and Adam have shown an interest in her. From the sounds of it, something Carrie Sue never did.”

“You know, after watching her in action, I've been thinking maybe my own mothering skills aren't as absent as I always thought.”

Grace sat across the table from me. Leaning chin in hands, she said, “Hmm, you think?”

“Well, I don't know. All I know is that Carrie Sue has certainly proved she lacks common sense. Truthfully, she all but ignores Clarissa, and it's obvious she knows nothing about her. When she first arrived, neither did I, but now…well, gosh, I know her favorite color is purple, she adores dogs, her favorite TV show is
Hannah Montana,
she really does like chicken and—macaroni and cheese, well, she'd rather have that than anything.”

I heard Grace chuckling and looked up at her. “What?”

“Listen to yourself. And think back to April. All those doubts that you had when Clarissa first came. I tried to tell you it would just take time, but oh no, you wouldn't listen. You were bound and determined to label yourself Mommie Dearest—and I do mean that in a derogatory way. It's never easy raising a child, but little by little you're catching on to what's important. Like teaching Clarissa to knit. Anybody can tell how much she enjoys that, but I don't think it's just the knitting—I think she likes the fact that it's something the two of you can do together and share.”

The same thought had crossed my mind.

“You've been too hard on yourself, Monica. Personally, I think you've done a great job with Clarissa.”

“You do?”

“Yes, I do,” she said, getting up to come and pull me into a hug. “She's well adjusted, happy…what more can parents ask for?”

“That's exactly what Adam told me the other night. In addition to those things, he mentioned how well she's doing in school and said that's always a signal if a child feels stable.”

“See? What have I been trying to tell you?”

Despite all the kudos from both Adam and Grace, one thing still nagged at me. I wouldn't admit it to them, but I still didn't feel that overpowering, fierce
love
that I knew most parents had for their children. We never even voiced those words to each other. Maybe a woman had to carry a child for nine months in order for that particular emotion to surface? But then I recalled my mother being adopted and the deep love she shared with my grandmother, which once again left me with no answers.

The door to the coffee shop opened and both Grace and I looked at the man walking in. Not a local. Tall, slim but broad-shouldered, dark curly hair with a trace of gray at the temples, and olive-complexioned skin, dressed in casual slacks and navy pullover sweater. I wondered if maybe he was a substitute teacher at the school.

“Hi,” Grace said to him, walking behind the counter. “What can I get ya?”

“I know it's a coffee shop,” he said, speaking fluent English with an unmistakable French accent, “but I noticed your sign says you also have tea?”

“I do,” Grace said with a smile and pointed to the board on the wall. “Actually, I have quite a good selection.”

Walking closer to read the listings, he removed a pair of reading glasses clipped to the neck of his sweater. After a few moments he said, “Yes, I can see you have a wonderful selection. I think I'll have the chamomile, please.”

He leaned over to inspect the baked goods Grace had in the display case. “Oh, and one of those blueberry muffins to go with it.”

Grace began preparing the tea. “Just visiting the island?” she asked him.

“Well, yes, for right now,” he told her, his French accent becoming more pronounced. “I'm in the process of purchasing the bookshop downtown.”

I sat up straighter in my chair. Ah, so this was the new owner.

“Oh, right. I'd heard somebody had purchased it.” Grace placed the cover on the Styrofoam cup and extended her hand. “Well, welcome to the island. I'm Grace Stone.”

I watched as the man took her hand in his.

“Lucas Trudeau,” he told her. “Very nice to meet you.”

“And this,” she said, pointing toward me, “is my best friend, Monica Brooks. Monica owns Spinning Forward, the yarn shop downtown.”

He now shook hands with me and said, “Very nice to meet you, as well.”

“Thanks. I hope you'll like it here.”

Hmm, nice-looking guy. Well put together. Probably early forties, with a cosmopolitan look about him. Definitely looks like somebody who could own a bookshop, minus any nerdy qualities.
A quick glance at his bare left hand told me there was also a good chance he was single.

“Yes, I believe I will. It appears to be a friendly town, and Dick assures me that it is.”

“Oh, yeah,” Grace said, laughing. “Cedar Key is definitely friendly. Everybody knows everybody.” She passed the tea and muffin across the counter to him and rang up the sale.

“Do you mind if I sit here to have this?” he asked.

“No, not at all,” I heard her say with a bit of enthusiasm in her voice. “Come join Monica and me. It's slow this time of day, so I was taking a break.”

“So,” I said as they both sat down, “how soon will you be opening the bookshop?”

“Well, I've also purchased the empty shop next door, so I'm going to be doing an expansion and remodeling. My goal is to have it open by the fall.”

“Oh, what a great idea. I've always told Dick that bookshop was too small. He needed more space. Not like a chain, of course. There's something special about an independent bookstore. Did you see the movie
You've Got Mail
?”

Lucas threw his head back laughing, and it was difficult not to notice his attractive smile. “I did,” he said, “and thoroughly enjoyed it.”

“Weren't you just rooting for Meg Ryan?” Grace asked. “She had the greatest indie bookshop, and that stinker, Tom Hanks, wanted to put her out of business.”

Lucas nodded. “Yes, I'm afraid with the poor economy the past few years a lot of shops like that one have failed. So I feel very fortunate to have done so well with my other one.”

I recalled what Polly had told us and said, “Where's that one?”

“Brunswick, Georgia—about four hours north of here, just over the border.”

I saw the look of surprise that swept across Grace's face. “Brunswick?” she said. “I was born and raised there. My aunt still lives there.”

Now it was Lucas's turn to look surprised. “You said your last name was Stone? You're not by any chance related to Maude Stone, are you?”

Grace laughed. “I am. That's my aunt.”

Lucas shook his head. “What a small world. Maude is one of my best customers. When I opened that shop five years ago, she's the one who was instrumental in forming the great book club that we have there.”

“That would be Aunt Maude,” Grace said. “She's always involved in one thing or another. With that accent and a name like Trudeau, you're French?”

“Yes, originally from the south of France and then about fifteen years in Paris. I had a bookshop there as well and sold it when I moved to Brunswick.”

There was definitely some chemistry going on here, and I almost felt like I was intruding.

“But you won't be selling the shop in Brunswick?” Grace asked.

Lucas shook his head. “Not at the moment. I have an excellent staff I can depend on. This is what will allow me to spend a lot of time here getting this shop up and running. I had come here last year and fell in love with the island, so when I saw the bookshop was for sale, I couldn't help but make an offer.”

“And you also purchased a house here?” Grace questioned.

“No, I'll be renting a small cottage over on Second Street. Very convenient to walk to the bookshop.”

“I imagine your wife will like living here as well,” Grace said.

I put my hand to my face, smothering a smile. Sly, Gracie, sly.

“I don't have a wife…. It's just me and Duncan. He's my Scottish terrier.”

“Oh, they're adorable,” I said. “My mother's best friend, she owns the B and B here, she has a Scottie, Winston.”

“I got Duncan just before I relocated from Paris, and he's been a wonderful companion.”

“I'm anxious to see what you do with the bookshop,” Grace said. “I bet you have some great ideas.”

“I think I do, yes.” He glanced at the watch on his wrist and took the last sip of tea, then stood up. “It was so nice meeting both of you. Thank you for your hospitality and I look forward to seeing you again.”

“Oh, same here,” Grace said, watching him walk out the door.

The smile now formed on my face. “Interesting.”

“Interesting? What do you mean?”

“Good-looking guy, don't ya think?”

Grace nodded. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Also single.”

“Hmm, that's right, I think he did say that.”

“Going to be here quite a lot getting the bookshop together.”

“I suppose so.”

I couldn't hold back the laughter any longer. “Oh, Gracie, 'fess up. You're attracted to him.”

“God, was I
that
obvious?”

“No more so than he was.”

“Get outta here!” she argued.

“I'm just telling you what I saw. And yeah, I'd say he was interested. Who knows, maybe you won't be that spinster in a nursing home after all.”

F
lipping the calendar to February on the kitchen wall, I was amazed that another month had zipped past. All things considered, it had been a pretty good one. We seemed to have settled into a routine, especially with Clarissa visiting Carrie Sue. Although I'd noticed that when she returned from her time with her mother, Clarissa seemed to be subdued, not talking much for a day or so and acting similar to when she'd first come to live with us.

I'd just finished running the vacuum through the great room when the phone rang and I answered to hear Opal.

“Hi, sweetie. Are you busy?”

“Just cleaning house. Why? What's up?”

“Well, I was wondering if I could stop by. There's something I'd like to talk to you about.”

“Sure, I could use a break. Give me an hour, and why don't you come for lunch.”

“Sounds good. See you then.”

Hanging up, I thought
oh, damn
. I had a feeling maybe Opal was coming to tell me she'd decided to return to Georgia and wouldn't be able to keep Clarissa the weekend Adam and I were going to Augusta. If that was the case, I hoped that maybe Aunt Dora could take her.

I decided to dust and vacuum Clarissa's room before Opal arrived. Opening the door, I gasped. “Holy shit!” I yelled.

The room that had been kept perfectly neat for months now looked like a war zone. Clothes tossed here and there. A bath towel bunched up on the chair. Books scattered all over the unmade bed. And sprinkled on the carpet was glitter and tiny red foil hearts—everywhere. The empty tubes from these were on the desk.

Why would Clarissa leave her room like this before going to school? Well, I sure as hell wasn't about to clean it up.

I slammed the door behind me and walked out to the kitchen trying to calm down. Preparing two plates of crab salad, I kept shaking my head. What on earth had gotten into her? I thought we had the cleaning of her room under control.

Arranging lunch on the table, I looked up as Opal knocked and walked in.

“Oh, that looks yummy,” she said, sitting down. “Can I help with anything?”

“No. Sweet tea?”

“That would be good. Something wrong?” she asked.

I let out a deep sigh before plunking in the chair across from her. “Yeah, plenty. I thought we were over Clarissa not keeping her room clean. Come with me,” I said, leading the way.

Opening the bedroom door, I flung my arm forward. “Nice, huh?”

“Oh, my,” Opal said, stepping over the threshold and looking around the room. “Obviously, the child is upset about something.”

“
She's
upset? I passed upset about twenty minutes ago.”

“Well, sure, honey. If she's been keeping her room clean, and then to have this.” Opal gestured around the room. “Clearly, something's bothering Clarissa Jo.”

How the hell did Opal know this? Was this something from Motherhood 102? An advanced level I hadn't gotten to yet?

“Seems to me Clarissa is testing you,” Opal informed me.

“Testing me? But why?”

“Well, that I can't tell you. But yeah, testing to see your reaction to this. If I didn't know better…,” she began, and then stopped.

“What? What were you going to say?”

“Well…Adam said Clarissa's not real happy when she returns from Carrie Sue's place. Not that I can blame the poor child, mind you. But I'm wondering if this is her way of acting out—trying to get some control over a situation where she has
no
control.”

“You mean because she really doesn't want to go to Carrie Sue's?”

“Exactly.”

“That makes no sense. Just because she's back to not keeping her room clean, that doesn't mean it will stop the visits.”

“Right,” Opal explained. “But she's feeling lost and confused again. She could be looking for a way to feel secure. By not cleaning her room, she knows it will cause you and Adam to be angry with her.”

“And that's what she wants?”

Opal smiled, put an arm around my shoulder and directed me back to the kitchen.

Sitting down at the table, she said, “What she
wants
is for you to give her some structure, something Carrie Sue has never done. By not cleaning her room, she's called attention to herself. This in turn forces you to address the problem. I'm not sayin' kids love discipline or being punished. However, it gives them the stability they crave. Lettin' a child run wild and do as they please doesn't show an ounce of love—what it shows is indifference on the part of the parent. Kids instinctively know this. Being a parent is the hardest job in the world—that's because it's so time-consuming. A parent who takes the time to discipline a child makes that child feel wanted and loved.”

I poured sweet tea into our glasses and thought about this for a few minutes.

“So what you're saying is Adam has to discipline her. But she already knows Adam wants her and loves her.”

Opal laughed. “Oh, Monica, sweetie, for such a smart woman sometimes you don't get it. It's
you
that she's looking to for the reassurance, not Adam. She knew you would be the one to see her room this morning. As I said before, she's testing you.”

Which meant that it was up to me how I handled this. For the first time, I was on my own and had to make a decision about disciplining Clarissa.

Picking up my fork for a bite of crab salad, I said, “Thanks, Opal. How'd you get to be so smart?”

She threw her head back, laughing. “Comes with the territory, honey. Being a mama is trial and error, and it's all hands-on learning. Now—the reason I came here today is, I need
your
advice with something, and you can help me.”

“Oh, I thought maybe you were coming to tell me you're leaving the island and can't take Clarissa next month.”

Opal waved a hand in the air. “No, no. Actually, I'm not sure when I'll be going back to Naomi's. I just might have me a man in my life.”

“A man?” I said with surprise. This was the first I was hearing about it. “Where'd you meet him?”

Opal patted her lips with a napkin. “Well, actually, I haven't. Yet. Not in person, anyway.”

“What?”

“Well, see…um…I was on the Internet and…”

Now it was my turn to laugh. “You met him in a chat room on the Internet?”

“Well, yes. Anything wrong with that?”

“I'm not sure. Do you think he's really who he says he is? I mean, people can tell you anything in those chat rooms.”

“Yes, well, I thought that too. But we've been chatting for a few months now. Even exchanged some photos. And now…well, he's coming to Cedar Key for a few months.”

“He is? Hmm, then I guess if he's willing to meet you in person, he must have been truthful about who he is. Where's he from?”

“He's from Charleston, and I do think Hank's been truthful.”

“Hank? Does he have a last name?” I kidded with her.

“Of course he does. It's Masterson. Hank Masterson. Has a nice sound to it, don't ya think?”

I smiled. It looked like my mother-in-law was smitten. “It does. Why's he coming here for a few months?”

“He's retired—worked in investments or some such thing. His wife died about ten years ago, children are grown and scattered across the country. He's never been to Cedar Key and thought it might be nice to come down here and spend a few months.”

“Hmm, and get to know you?”

Opal pursed her lips. “Yes, that could be part of it. He's bringing his dog—has a Lab named Charlie. So he's rented a cottage at the Far Away.”

“Interesting, but why do you need my advice about this?”

I swear I saw a crimson flush begin to climb up Opal's cheeks.

“Well, I've been out of the dating world for a while, ya know? Hank mentioned taking me to dinner in Gainesville one evening…and I was kinda wondering…what might be appropriate to wear.”

My eyes went to the fuchsia-colored pantsuit she was wearing. The bright bluish red was something we'd all become accustomed to with Opal—showy, loud clothes that forced people to look. So here was Miss Key Lime Pie of 1960 asking
my
fashion advice? “Hmm, are you thinking of something more…subdued?”

“Subdued,” she said, letting the word roll off her tongue while she thought about it. “Yeah, that might be what I'm looking for.”

“Well, you can never go wrong with black or gray. Maybe an ankle-length gray skirt, charcoal gray turtleneck, and black blazer?”

“That certainly sounds subdued—even dull.”

I shrugged. “Hey, you asked my advice.”

“I did, and maybe you're right. Something like that would be appropriate for an evening dinner. Okay, got that. On to the next problem….”

When she neglected to continue, I looked up from my plate. “And that would be?”

“Well, this is a delicate subject, but I don't have anybody else to discuss it with. Lord knows, I couldn't talk to Adam about it. But I was wondering…is a woman expected to kiss on the first date these days? And if so, does that kiss lead to…well, you know.”

I had all I could do to stifle my laughter. Here was a woman who flaunted her sex appeal at every opportunity and she was worried about dating protocol?

Unable to resist, I said, “Does it lead to
sex?
Is that what you mean?”

The crimson on her cheeks deepened as she nodded. “Well, yeah—I hear so much about that Viagra stuff and all, I'm just not sure what to expect.”

She struck me as a nervous teenager about to embark on her first date. Leaning across the table, I patted her hand. “Opal, I truly don't think much has changed in that department since you were out there dating. Nothing is ever
expected
of you, so just use your common sense and you'll be fine, I'm sure.”

She nodded. “Okay, thank you.” She took a gulp of tea. “Do you think I'm being foolish to meet him? I mean, gosh, at my age….”

“Opal, don't be silly. What are you? Late fifties?”

“Sixty-three.”

“Well, geez, that's far from ancient. What's wrong with having a gentleman friend? Look at my mom and Noah. It's nice to have a companion at this stage of your life. Somebody to go places with, have fun with. It adds longevity to your life.”

“Yeah,” she agreed. “You're probably right. Besides, guess they wouldn't have developed that Viagra if there wasn't a need for it.”

I threw my head back, laughing. “Opal, you really
are
too much. That wasn't quite the longevity I was talking about.”