The Waffle House on the Pier: A gorgeous feel-good romantic comedy

by Tilly Tennant

  ‘We had to get married,’ Graham continued, looking at his children in turn, ‘otherwise your grandparents would never have had me.’

  Henny looked up from her lunch. ‘I hope you’re not insinuating that you wouldn’t have married me given the choice. Because if you are it’s a bit late to say so, but not too late for me to pack a suitcase for you and send you off to the Sea Salt Guesthouse.’

  ‘Of course not,’ Graham said with an indulgent smile at his wife, whose nostrils flared in a way that reminded everyone forcefully that she had once been very posh indeed, and that, in the end, the apple never really fell that far from the tree after all. ‘You know I was head over heels with you. Everyone knew it. You were the one making sacrifices, my sweet. You could have been married to some toff now, living on a country estate instead of working the boat with me every day.’

  ‘I happen to like working the boat,’ Henny said stiffly, though it was clear that her husband’s silky words had worked their magic and the offence she might have taken at his previous statement had well and truly dissipated. ‘And I never wanted a toff.’

  ‘Well that’s alright then,’ Graham replied cheerfully. ‘Because it won’t be changing any time soon, not unless we win the lottery… or your parents decide to help us out a bit.’

  ‘We don’t need their help,’ Henny said, again with the kind of haughtiness that reminded everyone of the ‘good stock’ she’d come from. ‘I told them the day I left home that we’d stand on our own feet.’

  ‘As I recall,’ Graham said with a faint smile, ‘what you actually said was that they could stick their inheritance.’

  ‘That was because they were being ghastly to you,’ Henny said. ‘You know that. We soon made it up when Ewan was born. They travelled down to see him straight away and they’ve doted on all the children. And they helped us buy this house, don’t forget.’

  ‘As if I’d forget that,’ Graham said with an unmistakeable wryness in his tone.

  Sadie exchanged a look with Ewan but said nothing. Doted was perhaps a bit strong a word to describe how Henny’s parents felt about Sadie and her siblings. Tolerated was more like it. Sadie couldn’t recall ever receiving a single hug or compliment or kind word from Henriette’s mother and father, not as a child and certainly not as an adult.

  ‘But even after all these years they haven’t changed their mind about me,’ Graham reminded her.

  ‘Regardless, we’ve stood on our own feet and we’ve made a success of it. We don’t need their money now and I would never ask.’

  Graham smiled at his wife, so obviously full of pride and affection that it warmed Sadie to see it. Her parents were, perhaps, the biggest single reason why she herself couldn’t find the right man. Even the one time she’d come perilously close to ‘the one’, ultimately he just hadn’t been able to measure up – or, at least, Sadie hadn’t been able to get past the perfect example she was so determined to live up to. Her parents’ relationship appeared so faultless, their beginnings so dreamy and romantic, that Sadie had grown up increasingly invested in the notion that all love affairs were the stuff of fairy tales like that. At least, if they were worth having at all. If there were no fireworks, no Romeo and Juliet moments, no all-conquering love against the odds, then it couldn’t be right, could it? This conviction hadn’t been helped by the fact that Grandma and Grandpa Schwartz had also been completely devoted to each other, not to mention that her brother had been swept off his feet by the beautiful and practically perfect Kat.

  Sadie could only thank her stars that good old Lucy who, despite offering to fix Sadie up with an eligible New York bachelor, was herself still happily single. Otherwise she might have started to think that there was something terribly wrong with her for not yet being embroiled in the love affair of the century herself.

  ‘I don’t know what on earth started all that anyway,’ Henny said. ‘If we give another minute’s conversation to my silly parents I’m quite sure every bit of food on the table will suddenly go rancid.’

  Ewan let out a snort of laughter.

  ‘Steady on, Mum!’ Lucy cried, though she was grinning.

  Everyone else laughed too. Everyone but April, who apparently hadn’t noticed a joke had been made, and Henny, who simply turned a wry smile to her son. She loved her parents, everyone knew that, but she also knew as well as anyone around that table just how difficult, obstructive and constantly disapproving they could be.

  ‘Pass the wine please, Graham,’ Henny said. She looked at Ewan and Kat as her husband handed her the bottle. ‘It’s a lovely vintage. Thank you for bringing it.’

  Ewan shrugged. ‘It seemed a bit too posh for us to drink at home by ourselves. It’s funny what satisfied clients bring in for you. I mean, sometimes I think it’s a bit over the top – we’ve only taken them for a splash-about in the sea, really – but I don’t suppose I’m going to sniff at a nice bottle of plonk for doing something I’d love doing anyway.’

  ‘Well I wish I got perks like that from my job,’ Sadie said.

  ‘You don’t have a job,’ Ewan said with a grin for his little sister. ‘What you do is just crowd control.’

  ‘She has a vocation,’ Lucy said, gallantly riding to her little sister’s defence. ‘It’s better than a job.’

  ‘What she said,’ Sadie agreed, wrinkling her nose at Ewan.

  ‘So you fancy swapping with her?’ Ewan asked Lucy. ‘You can sit with a load of kids every day and Sadie can do the swanky lunches with celebs and Broadway producers?’

  Lucy took a sip of her wine. ‘God no!’ she said, laughing. ‘Give me a room full of teenagers for longer than an hour and I’d be reaching for the Valium. The only teenagers I want to be anywhere near are ones I can get cast in the newest production of Dear Evan Hansen!’

  ‘Your average teenager gets a bad press,’ Sadie said. ‘They’re challenging – yes – but their views on the world can be fascinating. Teaching is a vocation and it’s better than any old job. I’m helping to steer future generations; I might be helping a future Nobel Prize winner to realise his or her full potential.’

  ‘I’ll ask whether you still feel that way next time you’re stuck inside revising and I’m having a lovely swim out in the bay and getting paid for the privilege,’ Ewan said.

  ‘Funny!’ Sadie said with a pretend grimace. ‘At least my job will make a difference… at least, it will when I qualify and finally get one.’

  But then she paused, the old misgivings about her career choice resurfacing again, as they had done many times over the previous weeks. She pushed them back down into the depths once more. This was the path she’d chosen and she was going to see it through. What she’d opted to do with her life did matter, didn’t it? She was going to make a difference in the world, wasn’t she?

  ‘My job makes a difference,’ Ewan said. ‘I make people happy, don’t I? I have a waiting list for new clients.’

  ‘Of course you do,’ Sadie said with a theatrical sigh. ‘If you were teaching people how to plate up shit you’d have a waiting list because half of Sea Salt Bay is in love with you—’

  ‘Sadie!’ Henny exclaimed. ‘Firstly – language! And secondly, you can’t say things like that in front of Kat!’

  ‘Oh, right,’ Sadie said, laughing but still colouring at her mum’s chastisement.

  ‘Oh, Mum, please,’ Lucy cut in. ‘Like Kat doesn’t already know that. I mean, it’s the only reason most of Ewan’s clients book him.’

  ‘Oh, I know that.’ Kat gave Ewan a coy smile. ‘But business is business, however we come by it. Besides, I’ve always liked a challenge.’

  ‘Am I a challenge?’ Ewan asked her.

  ‘Keeping the marital mystique is definitely a challenge.’

  Ewan grinned again. ‘Oh, I think you’re doing more than OK there…’

  ‘Gravy?’ Henny barked, shoving the gravy boat in between Ewan and Kat, just to head off any dinner-table double entendres that might be in the offing.

 
‘I’m OK, thanks,’ Ewan said, waving it away.

  ‘I’m OK too,’ Kat said. She looked at the children, sitting quietly while the adults chatted. Freya was the oldest, a serious ten-year-old who more often than not had her head in a book rather than a dive helmet. While her parents were outdoor, sporty types, Freya couldn’t have been further from that. She’d rather be in a library than on a tennis court. Right now she was reading an old copy of Malory Towers that Henny had given to her. Any other child would not have been permitted to read at the table while eating, but Henny doted on Freya and would have allowed her to conduct chemistry experiments at the table if she thought for a moment it would make her granddaughter happy.

  Freddie was two years younger and a carbon copy of his dad. Already he was handsome, with soft brown eyes that could melt the hardest heart and a head of dark curls. Although he was good-looking and charming, he was more difficult than Freya, perhaps because he was a bit too boisterous and energetic like his dad – always in trouble, always hurting himself, always intrigued by things that he shouldn’t be. If someone put a huge red button in front of him and told him that should he press it the world would end, Freddie simply wouldn’t be able to control the urge to slam his hand down on it, just to see what would happen. He loved to go out diving with Ewan, rain or shine, no matter the temperature of the water. He loved swimming in the shallow pools around the rocks, he loved surfing the smaller waves that rolled onto the beach, and he loved running and climbing. He was obsessed with any sport he could get the chance to play, anything that meant he didn’t have to sit still for more than five minutes. Right now he was gazing longingly out at the churning sea beyond the windows of the conservatory, perhaps dreaming of a day spent splashing through the waves instead of being cooped up at a sedate family meal.

  ‘You both have enough gravy?’ Kat asked them, and both children nodded. Freya’s head went immediately back to her book as she absently speared a carrot onto her fork and moved it dextrously to her mouth without even looking; it was clear she’d spent many a mealtime reading. Freddie’s gaze returned to the sea where, should anyone have looked closely enough, they might have seen little movies of afternoons spent surfing reflected in the pools of his huge brown eyes.

  Henny put the gravy boat down and retrieved her cutlery.

  ‘Meat’s lovely, Dad,’ Sadie said.

  Graham smiled up at her.

  ‘Very tender,’ April said, though Sadie glanced at her plate and didn’t see how her grandmother could know because her food didn’t look touched.

  ‘It is,’ Ewan agreed. ‘I’ve always said you do a mean roast.’

  ‘I’ve definitely missed your cooking,’ Lucy said. ‘I think I might have put on at least ten pounds since I’ve been here – it’s a good job I’m flying back tomorrow because any more and I’d have to pay for an extra seat on the plane.’

  ‘Oh, darlin’,’ April said, smiling at Lucy. ‘You look just peachy to me. If you’ve put on a little extra padding it suits you – you were too thin when you arrived back. I think you work too hard.’

  ‘I have nobody feeding me all this lovely home-cooked food either,’ Lucy said, and it was telling that she didn’t dispute the fact that she did work hard. Perhaps her sister did feel it was too hard sometimes, but Sadie knew that even if she did, she thought it was necessary. Lucy had always been ambitious and determined, passionate about the arts and a champion of those involved in them. She’d once wanted to train as an actor herself but had decided very early on that she just wasn’t that good; then a chance meeting with a theatrical agent in London who wanted to set up a New York office had set her on her current path – a path Sadie suspected suited her far better and that she loved. It probably made her more money too, though she would never be crass enough to show off about how much she might be making.

  ‘This is all lovely, of course,’ Kat said, and suddenly Sadie detected a hint of impatience in her tone. ‘But while we’re enjoying the chance to catch up, I think perhaps there’s something we really need to talk about.’

  Henny nodded slowly, her gaze travelling to April momentarily before resting on Kat again. ‘I think you might be right.’

  ‘I’m glad we’re on the same page,’ Kat said.

  Ewan looked at her. ‘Would someone mind telling me what page that is? Because I’m not sure I’m even in the same book.’

  ‘The waffle house, dear,’ Kat said. ‘Perhaps we ought to talk about it sooner rather than later.’ She looked around the table. Other families might have thought her pointed instruction impertinent – after all, she was only there by virtue of her marriage to Ewan – but the Schwartz family knew that she was probably the only person at the table not so blinkered by emotion that she could be rational about the difficult discussions they faced. Though nobody wanted to address it, Kenneth was gone and they had to acknowledge that the waffle house would be tough for April to run by herself. The place had been closed for a month now, during the height of the tourist season, and money was draining from the business faster than water from a leaky boat. It couldn’t continue that way. Something had to be done and today, whether they liked it or not, was one of the rare occasions they’d have to sit together and decide what that ought to be.

  ‘Right,’ Graham said. ‘And while we have Lucy here, as it concerns her too.’

  ‘I’m not getting involved,’ Lucy began, but her father put up a hand to stop her.

  ‘You don’t need to get involved but I’d rather not have these discussions behind your back. You’re still my daughter and a part of this family even if you’ve chosen to leave the bay.’

  Lucy nodded shortly and turned to her grandmother, and everyone else did too.

  ‘April…’ Kat said gently. April suddenly didn’t show much sign of wanting to engage, but perhaps that was because she knew that the following conversation might be painful. While everyone tiptoed around, Kat, again, was perhaps the only person detached enough to be a little tougher on her, to make her face what needed facing.

  April shook her head.

  ‘April…’ Kat repeated. ‘We have to talk about this. For a start, do you want to open up again? Do you want to carry on working there or do you think this is a good time to retire? After all—’

  ‘I think it’s too much,’ Henny cut in briskly. Graham stared at her but she ignored the rebuke. ‘There,’ she continued. ‘I’ve said it. That’s what we’ve all been thinking after all, isn’t it? I know nobody likes the thought of selling up but I don’t see what else we can do with Kenneth gone. It’s too much for one person to manage on their own, let alone a pensioner.’

  ‘Why does anyone have to manage it alone?’ her husband asked.

  Henny shot him a withering look. ‘Are you going to run it with your mother?’

  ‘Of course not,’ he fired back. ‘That doesn’t mean it has to close.’ He turned to April. ‘Mama, what do you think? Is it making enough to maybe pay someone to help?’

  April shook her head. ‘I really couldn’t say right now. You know your papa took care of all that – I just cooked.’

  ‘You didn’t just do anything,’ Sadie said. ‘You made the magic, Gammy, and that was worth everything.’

  ‘That’s sweet of you to say so, darlin’.’

  ‘Yes,’ Henny cut in. ‘There’s no doubting that, but making magic doesn’t pay the bills.’

  ‘It does when it brings customers in,’ Graham said.

  ‘OK,’ Henny said. ‘But we still haven’t established who’s going to run the place.’

  ‘Well you know it can’t be us,’ Graham replied, looking both flustered and increasingly irritated at the same time. Clearly he wanted to give an answer that served his emotions, they all did, but he didn’t have one and Sadie could see it frustrated and saddened him.

  Henny turned to Ewan.

  ‘I don’t have time,’ he said, his argument perfectly valid though he looked guilty about it all the same.

  ‘I know you don’t,�
�� his mother said. ‘That’s my point – none of us has time. Your father and I have the boat – and let’s face it, we’d be mad to spoil the income from that for the sake of a little business that struggles to make half what we do.’ She held up a hand to stave off objections from her husband and continued talking to Ewan. ‘You and Kat have the dive business and the children. Sadie has her studies and we can hardly ask Lucy to come home from New York to do it. I know it’s hard to say so, but what choice does all that leave us with? Not much, really, does it?’

  The table was silent for a moment. ‘We definitely can’t hire an assistant or something?’ Sadie asked finally.

  Henny frowned. ‘I hardly think that’s financially viable.’

  ‘Perhaps we need to look into that a little more before we say so for certain,’ Graham offered. ‘Maybe there would be room to take someone on.’

  ‘Graham…’ Henny said. ‘I thought we’d agreed when we looked at the books…’

  She stopped short of completing her sentence and Sadie wondered just what her parents had discovered in them. She had to guess that perhaps the waffle house hadn’t been making as much money as she’d imagined it was. She had never really thought about it, because it had always just been there, part of the landscape of the bay and of her life there, and she had never really equated that with the making of an actual profit.

  ‘I fear Henny may be right,’ April said sadly, and Sadie stared at her grandmother. Maybe she’d been forced to agree because she knew deep down that the waffle house wasn’t making all that much, but it wasn’t like her to give up so easily.

  ‘I have to agree with Mum too,’ Ewan said. ‘I hate to say it—’

  ‘You mean you hate to agree with me?’ Henny asked with a faint smile.