The Way Home (8 page)

She decided not to ask him. If that was true, it would be too depressing to think about right now.

“Hey, I know your place was slow this weekend. But don't panic.” His quiet tone drew her attention.

She put down her scissors and looked up at him. “Slow is not the word. Torpid. Deserted . . . Forlorn?”

“Hey, what did I say? Don't panic.” He said it again, even slower. He had slipped off his glasses and stared at her. She suddenly noticed he was touching her shoulder. “It takes time to build a following, Avery. We're not exactly on the middle of Main Street. People have to find you out here. Then it becomes a fun place to visit for dinner. A destination.”

She knew that but felt better hearing him say it.

“And you can't compare this place with the Tuna,” he added. “We've been here nearly thirty years. People who went to the Tuna as kids are bringing their own families now.”

Avery sighed. “I hope it doesn't take that long for the Peregrine to catch on.”

She couldn't last the summer, serving only four or five tables a night. But she didn't admit that to Mike. For one thing, she already knew what he would say: “Don't panic.”

The words did calm her, she had to admit. Especially when he said them.

He looked at his watch. She hoped he was getting ready to go. She enjoyed talking to him, but she just felt too awful right now about her failed grand opening, and the only way she would feel better was to take some positive action. Like calling up the advertising department at
What's Happening in Cape Light?
Not hanging out with her biggest—albeit, very attractive—competitor.

“What time does your crew come in?” he asked.

“About four.” It was already three. Avery hoped she had enough time to make her phone calls.

“Want to take a walk on the beach?”

His invitation surprised her. When she hesitated he said, “I bet you haven't even been out on the beach once since you got here, have you?”

She wanted to deny it, but it was impossible to lie looking into those big brown eyes. “I wanted to, but I haven't had a chance. I don't really have time now either,” she added.

“Just what I thought. At least come out and walk the boardwalk? Have you seen Mrs. McNulty's tube collection? I'd love to show you the highlights. I think she even has the Loch Ness Monster. Do you think kids really like that, or are they scared to death?”

She couldn't answer the question but couldn't help laughing at it, either. He was referring to Sunshine Sundries, right next to the café, and the vast collection of water toys and tubes displayed out front. The Loch Ness Monster was not much of an exaggeration. From where she sat, Avery could clearly make out a shark, a whale, and even some kind of giant squid thing with tentacles.

“That is a tempting invitation.” She was teasing him back now, and he seemed to enjoy it. “But I have to take a rain check. I have too much to do.”

He looked disappointed, and she wondered if she should change her mind. Then he shrugged his big shoulders. “It is getting late. I probably ought to get back to the Tuna. I have to get things rolling for the dinner rush.”

Dinner rush
? Did he have to use that exact term?

Any qualms she'd had about refusing his invitation vanished. It was Monday night, for goodness sake. Who had a crowd on a Monday? But Avery didn't doubt that if anyplace did, it was the Lazy Tuna.

She felt even more resolved to stay at the café. She was too worried about her business to enjoy the beach right now anyway.

“See you around,” Mike said as he started to go. “Don't forget what I told you,” he added.

“I won't,” she promised. Was it his simple but sound advice that had calmed her down—or just his natural charm? Either way, she couldn't help smiling as he turned and strolled away.

Avery opened up the magazine then snuck another look at Mike. He had slipped on his sunglasses and walked down the street as if he owned it. As if he owned the whole boardwalk . . . the whole island, for that matter.

She hoped she hadn't hurt his feelings when she'd turned down his invitation. She certainly hadn't meant to; it just all happened so fast. But he seemed pretty sure of himself. He had probably forgotten about it already.

Mike Rossi was quite a character. He was nothing like the men she was used to meeting. In fact, he was the complete opposite of the type she was usually attracted to. She remembered when she had first fallen for Paul; he had seemed so sophisticated with his fine clothing and his knack for always being ahead of the latest trend. Whereas Mike was running a restaurant that hadn't changed since 1960. But she did like him. She couldn't deny it. Not to herself, at least. She enjoyed talking with him and even liked his corny jokes, and the way he teased her.

But she didn't have time for a relationship right now, and she had definitely learned her lesson about men in the restaurant business. And besides all that, wouldn't it be a dumb idea to get involved with her only competition on the entire island?

Sorry, Mike, I guess you're ruled out on a few counts.

And I hope I can remember that, next time you come around with your charming smiles and helpful advice.

* * *

C
LAIRE
folded a crisp, clean sheet, but her mind was not on her task. Jamie had left at two o'clock and should have been back around half past three or even four. But she had not heard from him and only got his voicemail when she called his cell phone.

If the car had broken down or he'd been in an accident, wouldn't he have called? Even if his own phone didn't work for some reason, wouldn't he have found a phone and called her?

The phone rang then. It was half past five. Claire picked it up, trying to make her voice sound normal when she saw the caller ID. “Hello, Liza,” she said smoothly.

“Just checking in. How is everything going?”

“Fine . . . just fine.” Claire felt bad lying to Liza, but she didn't want to worry her, either. Especially when there might be some perfectly reasonable explanation for Jamie's lateness. Though what that might be, she couldn't begin to guess.

“Claire . . . are you there?” Liza's voice broke into her thoughts. She wondered again if she should tell Liza what was going on. “We're staying in town for dinner, so I probably won't be back until ten or so. You must be tired from cleaning all day. Did Jamie help?”

“Yes, he did every well. We were done quickly.” That much was true. He had worked hard at that job.

“Oh, good. Glad to hear it. Where is he now?”

Claire took a breath, preparing to explain what was going on. What was the use of withholding the information? If something bad had happened to Jamie, or the Jeep, it would only look worse later.

“He took the Jeep and went into town. To get some paint for the fence, mainly . . . The thing is . . .”

“Claire? I'm sorry . . . I can't hear you that well. My connection is breaking up. I'll try you back later, okay?”

“That's fine,” Claire nearly shouted. But the connection had already been lost.

Claire wasn't sure if she felt relieved or frustrated. She knew she felt torn between her loyalty to Liza—their deep friendship and her respect for Liza as her employer—and her feelings for Jamie, her vow to help him all she could, given this extraordinary second chance.

For not the first time that day, Claire considered taking Liza's SUV to go out looking for him. But that would be too extreme, and how likely would she be to find him? He would probably come back while she was out. That was the kind of luck she had been running today.

She returned to the dining room, where she was ironing and folding the clean linens, then setting them in piles on the long table to be put away. At least the work gave her some outlet for her stress and some distraction.

Finally she heard the front door of the inn open.

“Claire? I'm back,” she heard him call out.

She walked to the foyer to meet him, practically shaking with anger and worry.

Jamie gave her a quick, nervous grin. She could tell he knew that he had done wrong, that he had deliberately taken advantage of the situation. But he was going to see what she would say first before he explained himself.

Did he think she would just let this go without saying anything? That she was afraid to confront him? Well, she wasn't.

“Where have you been? You left here more than four hours ago. You should have been back by three thirty, or maybe four o'clock. It's past six now.”

He nodded. “I know. I lost track of time. I got a little lost finding the stores on the list, and I needed a few more things than I thought—”

“What happened to your phone? I called several times and it went straight to the messages. Did you turn it off?”

“My phone? Gee, I didn't see any messages.” He took his phone out and stared at it. “Maybe it needs a charge. It's one of those cheap phones, pay as you go? Doesn't work so good,” he added.

Claire didn't believe that. “Are you sure you just went to Cape Light, Jamie? Or did you drive into Boston to see your friends?”

“Of course not. I went to the stores, like you told me. I stopped to have some ice cream . . . Hey, what's the big deal? Did you think I stole your car or something?” he flared back at her, losing his contrite manner.

Claire felt shocked and hurt by his angry tone. Was he trying to scare her with this outburst? She would not be shouted down or cowed. He hadn't even said he was sorry or given any logical explanation for his disappearance.

“You have no right to use that tone. So far, I've heard a lot of excuses and no real explanation for why you disappeared all day on a simple errand into town. What is the real story, Jamie? I'll find out sooner or later.”

He took a breath and stared at her. When he finally replied, he seemed to have his temper under control. “There aren't any guests around, so I thought I could chill awhile. All I did was drive around a little and get a look at the town . . . I should have called you. I'm sorry.”

His tone was forced and annoyed, but at least he had apologized. Halfheartedly, but it was something.

“If you're sent to town on an errand, you need to come right back. You need to make sure your phone is charged and stay in touch.” Her tone was controlled but stern. “Liza and I will work out a schedule, so you'll know when you have time off. I suppose that might have been unclear,” she added, giving him a slim out.

He nodded, his expression blank, an unreadable mask. She had seen that face before—when he was a boy and wanted to detach, to go off by himself into a dark, angry world.

“Okay. I didn't know. I guess it's better to know the rules straight off,” he added somewhat reluctantly.

“I can see we need to be clearer with you.” She was still angry with him but didn't see the point of belaboring this. They both had to cool down before they could talk about it in a reasonable manner. “If you want to wash up, I've made dinner.”

“No thanks. I'm not hungry. I'll just empty the Jeep and go up to my room. Unless you have more work for me to do?”

“No, that's all right. There's nothing more to do today.”

Claire was annoyed that he had gone off with her Jeep all afternoon and hadn't called, leaving her to imagine the worst.

Then he tried to convince her it was all a miscommunication, that he didn't know he was expected to come back right away. Clearly, he was testing her, trying to see how much he could get away with here. And with her. Claire couldn't help feeling a deep disappointment. She thought Jamie knew better than that. She had trusted him, and he had let her down.

She remembered now how she questioned so many of his stories when he was younger. When he would “find” fistfuls of money or take the “wrong” jacket home “by mistake.” They were forgivable transgressions for a little boy fighting for his survival, but not for a young man. Claire thought he had outgrown those testing behaviors. But maybe not.

She remembered when he was young, how he would disappear for days at a time. A week, sometimes two. She would be frantic with worry, but even a call to his grandmother's house would yield little information or honesty. “Jamie is down with a bug,” his grandmother might say, or, “He has a case of the sniffles.” But Claire sensed his grandmother didn't know where he was either.

When he returned to the center, there would often be bruises or a black eye. Jamie always had a ready explanation. “Some kid tripped me.” “I fell down the stairs at school.” Or, “I got into a fight. No big deal,” he would assure her if she questioned him.

Claire knew those stories weren't true either. He had run because he was scared or angry or both. But her attempts to press the issue, to get him help, were fended off by his grandmother. And even by Jamie. She had walked a fine line back then and realized she was walking it again, right now.

She felt caught. She didn't want to come down too hard and alienate him or see him quit. He would disappear into thin air again, and her chance to help him would slip through her fingers.

It seemed that fond memories had brought him here, but that was not nearly enough to move forward. Their old relationship was a leaky boat that would not get them very far across these rough waters. They would have to build something new, based on mutual respect. No matter how much good she wished to do for him, she couldn't let him take advantage of her or Liza.

Claire had never known the joys of motherhood. She had wanted a child so very much at one point in her life, but that blessing was not to be.
This situation with Jamie today is just a taste of that awesome responsibility,
she realized. He had come to her, looking for maternal care and nurturing, she was sure, even if he didn't realize that consciously. But a good mother teaches limits and self-control. Which is not always easy, not easy at all.