“Of course.”
He watched as Kayana turned and walked through the swinging doors leading to the kitchen. Graeme felt as if he’d somehow broken through the formality that had existed between him and the cook. When observing her, he’d discovered Kayana to be friendly and easygoing with the customers frequenting the restaurant. There were a few occasions when someone complained about their order, and she calmly reassured them that she would prepare something else more to their liking. Not once had he witnessed a change in her expression when interacting with a dissatisfied customer or detected an inflection of annoyance in her voice. That’s when he’d wanted to intervene and tell the difficult diner that there was nothing wrong with their order. Every dish prepared in the Seaside Café’s kitchen was exceptional; he knew because he’d sampled most items on the menu.
Searching for an empty seat, Graeme found a table with an elderly couple. “Good morning. Do you mind if I share your table?”
The white-haired, bespectacled man wearing a Boston Red Sox T-shirt gestured to the chair opposite him. “Please sit.”
“Did I hear a New England accent?” the man’s wife asked.
Smiling, Graeme sat. “Guilty as charged.”
“We’re Claude and Edna Ferguson, and we live in Worcester. This is our fifth time coming here for vacation.”
A beat passed, and Graeme realized the couple expected him to introduce himself. “Graeme Ogden from Newburyport.” Although he’d spent most of his childhood in Boston, he now called the historic seaport city home.
What, he mused, were the odds of meeting a couple from Massachusetts when during the prior two years the few he had opted to interact with were from Michigan or Ohio. Graeme had made a practice not to become involved with those on the island because he’d come to Coates Island to work and not socialize. He didn’t hang out on the beach or in the town square to watch movies or listen to prerecorded music.
“That’s a really pretty little city,” Claude said.
Edna leaned over the table. “How long will you be here?” she whispered, as if it was a secret.
“Probably a couple of weeks.” Graeme had no intention of revealing his plans to a couple of strangers.
“Did you come down with your wife?” Claude asked.
Well, I’ll be damned, Graeme thought. Had he chosen to sit with a pair of retired interrogators? As soon as Kayana finished with his omelet, he was going to sit out on the patio to avoid what was certain to become an inquisition.
As if on cue, Kayana approached the table. “Here’s your omelet. Enjoy.”
Coming to his feet, Graeme took the plate. “Thank you.” He turned to the Fergusons. “Thank you for allowing me to sit with you while I waited, but I’m going to eat on the patio.”
Kayana walked with him over to the buffet table. “Did the Fergusons put you through the third degree?”
He gave her a sidelong glance, noticing for the first time that she wasn’t as tall as he’d thought. The top of her head came to his shoulder. “How did you know?”
“I usually don’t engage in gossip about my customers, but most folks know never to share the Fergusons’ table because you’ll end up being asked about your entire life, beginning with your birth weight.”
Graeme smothered a laugh as he picked up a serving spoon of home fries and placed it on the plate next to the fluffy omelet. “I just witnessed that. Thanks for the heads-up.” For the second time in a matter of minutes, he watched Kayana walk. He had never seen her wear anything other than a chef’s tunic, black checkered pants, and a bibbed apron. Her telling him about the Fergusons had him feeling as if they were co-conspirators.
* * *
Kayana walked back into the kitchen to resume making the pasta salads. “Graeme Ogden unknowingly fell prey to the Fergusons’ interrogating him.”
Derrick gently mixed a large bowl of lump crab with Old Bay and other spices before forming them into crab cakes. “He’s been here enough times to know to stay away from them.”
“He usually keeps to himself.”
“That’s because he prefers to sit and stare at my sister.”
Kayana went completely still. “What are you talking about?”
Derrick smiled. “Are you so turned off on men that you don’t know when a man is interested in you?”
She went back to grating cheese. “You’re talking out the side of your neck.”
“No, I’m not, little sister. There were a few times when I caught the man gawking at you with his tongue hanging out, and I wanted to tell him not to be so obvious.”
Kayana made a sucking sound with her tongue and teeth. “The next time you see him look my way, you should tell him your sister isn’t interested. And even with his gawking, he could have a wife hidden away somewhere.”
“You’ve been reading too many Gothic novels where men hide their wives away in a dungeon or locked room in order to seduce the heroine.”
“Don’t knock my books, Derrick,” she said defensively.
“I happen to know that Graeme Ogden isn’t married. Covering dinner allows me to talk to our customers when I ask them if they’re enjoying their meal or just chatting about other things. He’s a teacher and enjoys coming down here to get away from it all.”
“Single or not, at this time in my life I want nothing to do with a man.”
“Not all men are like James.”
“I’m aware of that, but giving him almost twenty years of my life, only to be traded in for a newer model, still galls me.”
“You’re only forty-six, Kay, and—”
“Please let it go, Derrick,” Kayana said, cutting him off.
She knew her brother wanted to see her with someone, but that wasn’t going to happen—at least not yet. Two years, when compared to two decades, wasn’t long enough to get over her ex’s deception. If he had only told her he wanted out of their marriage, instead of her seeing him and his mistress coming out of a downtown hotel when he’d told her he was going out of town for a conference. She would’ve become his genie and granted his wish, because she didn’t believe in staying in or continuing a toxic relationship or marriage.
“Is it because Graeme isn’t black?”
Kayana cut her eyes at Derrick. “His race has nothing to do with it. I just don’t want to get involved with anyone, and please let’s leave it at that.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Derrick intoned.
“You’ve been single longer than I have, so hush your mouth.”
“The difference between you and me is I have a child and you don’t.”
“What does that have to do with anything?” she asked. “Deandra has one more year of high school before she goes off to college. Are you going to wait to become a grandfather to begin dating again?”
Filling the sink with enough water to cover racks of ribs, he added a cup of vinegar. “You’re pushing it, Kay, with your grandfather yakety-yak.”
“Consider yourself fortunate if you’re able to attain that honor because that’s something I can never claim. Luckily, I have nieces and nephews I can spoil rotten.”
Kayana had been married less than a year when she discovered she was pregnant. She had been within weeks of completing her first trimester when she began hemorrhaging, and the doctors were unable to stop the bleeding. Kayana was not given the option of becoming pregnant again after undergoing an emergency hysterectomy. Subsequently, she and James had discussed adoption, but whenever she brought up the subject, he said they were still a family even if they didn’t have a child or children. After a while, they simply dropped the topic.
“Can you answer one question for me, Derrick?”
“What’s that?”
“You went to see Errol about breaking up with Jocelyn. Did you do the same when I told you I was divorcing James?”
Removing a pair of disposable gloves, he met Kayana’s eyes. “No, because I knew you could hold your own with him. Being the youngest, Jocelyn has always had us to fight her ba
ttles, and I doubted whether she would’ve been able to stand up to Errol. Now, if James had gotten funky with you, then I would’ve driven down to Atlanta and kicked his bougie ass.”
She laughed. “I managed to beat him without lifting a finger, and because we didn’t have a prenup, he had to give me what I asked for or I was ready to drag out the divorce for infinity and beyond.”
“Damn, Kay, you’ve watched too many Toy Story movies.”
“Those are Jocelyn’s kids’ favorite movies.”
Kayana was relieved that she and her brother could talk about things other than the lack of a man in her life. She knew she would not be able to engage in a meaningful relationship unless she forgave her ex. Otherwise, the next man would bear the brunt of her simmering rage, and that would be unfair to him.
Derrick had asked whether dating out of her race was a deal breaker, and for Kayana it wasn’t. While in college, she’d gone out with two men who weren’t black and found them no different from the African Americans she’d dated. Although she never lacked for dates, it had taken her a while before she’d had a serious relationship, and she knew it had to do with her parents’ divorce.
She also thought about her brother’s reference to Graeme Ogden’s interest in her, and she wanted to tell him he was delusional. The tall, middle-aged man with large gray eyes, which reminded her of dark clouds rolling across the sky before an impending thunderstorm, did not appeal to her. Whenever he visited the restaurant, she rarely gave him a passing glance, as she did most of the patrons. She greeted everyone politely, and her sole concern was making certain they enjoyed what she and Derrick had prepared for them to eat.
Graeme Ogden planned to summer on the island and then return home at the end of the season, while she would have her hands full cooking and serving at the restaurant. What little time she had to spare she tended to spend reading, because there was no room in her busy schedule for romance.
Chapter 3
Kayana always looked forward to Sundays. Once the restaurant closed at 1:00, following brunch, she had the rest of the day for herself. After showering and changing into a pair of cropped slacks, a T-shirt, tennis shoes, and a straw hat to protect her head and face from the brilliant late-spring sun, she set off on foot to go into town to browse the variety shop; she wanted to purchase something for Derrick and Jocelyn’s children. Deandra liked cloth-covered journals, Jocelyn’s sons were into Legos, and her daughter had amassed a collection of stuffed bears. Reaching into her tote, she removed a pair of sunglasses and placed them on the bridge of her nose.
She waved to people she’d known all her life as they drove slowly along the paved road. Although there was no posted speed limit, most residents did not exceed more than twenty miles an hour. It felt good to walk. It had become her only form of exercise since moving back to Coates Island. One of the rooms in the Atlanta house was outfitted as a home gym where she worked out regularly. The backyard was as opulent as the interior, with an outdoor kitchen, inground pool, jacuzzi, and swim-up tiki bar.
It was a source of pride for James whenever he’d entertained. And they’d done a lot of entertaining, so much that Kayana told James it had to stop, because she felt as if they were running a catering hall. It stopped for several weeks before starting up again. It wasn’t until she saw her husband and the woman coming out of the hotel together that she’d realized why he had invited his colleagues to their home so often. Having a crowd had provided the perfect cover for him and his mistress to openly socialize together. Kayana did not want to believe the shy, soft-spoken, butter-wouldn’t-melt-in-her-mouth intern had smiled in her face while she was sleeping with her husband. She didn’t blame the woman as much as she did James. After all, he was the married one.
Kayana knew she had to let go of the past or she wouldn’t be able to move on. She wasn’t looking forward to getting married again, because she’d been there, done that. Then she remembered the plaque she’d hung on the wall in her office at the hospital. It was the Serenity Prayer, and she would recite it whenever she felt stressed out. Now she didn’t feel stressed, yet she knew she had to accept the things she couldn’t change. Her husband had left her for another woman because she was able to give him what Kayana couldn’t: a child. And now she was relieved that they hadn’t had children, because as a child of divorced parents she hadn’t wanted the same for her children. She repeated the prayer over and over to herself, and miraculously she felt free, freer than she had in a very long time.
A wide smile parted her lips as she quickened her step. She hadn’t intended to stop in the bookstore, but now that she recalled her conversation with Leah, Kayana decided to pick up a few titles as possible choices for their upcoming book club discussion. Particles of sand grated under her feet as she moved onto the grassy surface of the road when she heard an approaching vehicle. A jitney filled with vacationers drove by. The fee vacationers paid to park their cars for the season afforded them free jitney rides around the island from 6:00 in the morning to 10:00 at night. However, the owner of the jitneys did charge those wishing to go over the bridge to the mainland a nominal fee.
* * *
Graeme Ogden walked into the bookstore on Main Street and knew he’d made the right decision to purchase property on Coates Island because it reminded him of Newburyport with its historic quaintness. Small, independent bookstores were now as scarce as hen’s teeth, and whenever he found one, he usually lingered there for a while; although not electronically challenged, Graeme still preferred reading a physical book. And much to his delight, Turn the Page Bookstore was stocked with current best-sellers and older titles in most popular genres. Wooden benches with enough room for two were positioned in the aisles so customers could sit and read before making their purchase.
The first year he’d summered on the island, he’d felt right at home. The furnished bungalow was no larger than the detached carriage house, converted into an apartment for the caretaker, on the three-quarter-acre property where he’d vacationed with his parents during the summer months, but it suited his needs. The bungalow was far enough away from the other small houses to allow him a modicum of privacy. However, there had been a few drawbacks. The plumbing and the electricity needed updating, along with the kitchen and bathroom. It was only after he’d rented the house the following year that he’d decided to buy it.
Graeme had just turned down the fiction aisle when he saw her. Kayana sat on a bench, a tote, shopping bag, and straw hat next to her. He smiled. It was the first time he’d seen her in street clothes. His gaze lingered on her bare arms. She was so engrossed in what she was reading that she wasn’t aware of his approach.
“Are you enjoying it?”
Kayana’s head popped up, and it took several seconds before she recognized him. “Yes, I am. I see you discovered our bookstore.”
Graeme stared at her straightened hair, parted off center and ending at the jawline. Her hair would’ve been raven black if not for several strands of gray. “It’s one of the reasons I decided to buy property here.”
“You mean it wasn’t the delicious food at the Café that had you coming back?” she teased, smiling.
His smile matched hers. “That, too. May I sit down?”
Kayana shifted the tote bag and hat to her right side. “Of course.”
Graeme made certain not to sit too close and invade her personal space. Not only did Kayana look good, but she smelled delicious. Her perfume was a sensual, woodsy-floral blend of sandalwood, vanilla, and another flower he couldn’t identify.
He gave her a sidelong glance. “How often do you come here?”
Extending her legs, Kayana crossed her feet at the ankles. “Not as much as I’d like.”
She hadn’t seen Graeme in the restaurant since the morning he’d asked for the omelet. Either he’d stayed away or had come in when she was working in the kitchen. She’d unconsciously dismissed Derrick’s allegation that Graeme was interested in her, and when she’d looked up and seen him standing
there, she saw curiosity, not lust, in his eyes.
“Do you ever get a day off?”
Kayana stared at Graeme’s crisp khakis and matching deck shoes. “I don’t get days, but hours off during the summer season.”
“Are you saying you work seven days a week?”
Seeing him this close made her aware that his eyes weren’t as dark as she’d originally thought. They were light gray, with dark centers that reminded her of the mist that occasionally shrouded the island. His sandy-brown hair, with glints of gold and silver, was cut military-style. His features were well-balanced for his lean face, and Kayana didn’t think of him as handsome or attractive, but interesting. It was his eyes and voice she’d found worthy of note. The instant he opened his mouth, she’d known he’d grown up and/or was educated in the Boston area.
“Yes.”
Graeme sandwiched his hands between his knees. “That must get exhausting.”
“I try not to think about it because there are advantages to working for yourself. I don’t have to put up with a boss breathing down my neck, and my brother and I set our own schedules.”
“Did you always want to be a chef?”
Kayana knew she was right about Graeme. He was curious about her. “I’m not a chef, but a cook. Derrick and I learned everything we know watching my mother and grandmother.”
“You must have been an excellent student, because the dishes you and your brother serve are exceptional.”
She smiled. “We just try to keep the family tradition going. By the way, how do you like living on the island?” Kayana asked.
“You know about that?” he questioned.
“You mean about you buying property here?”
“Yes.”
“If you live here long enough, you’ll learn that there are no secrets on Coates Island. When the widow Hutchins left to live with her daughter in Texas, everyone knew it was a matter of time before she would stop renting the house and put it on the market.” Elderly residents who hadn’t passed away tended to move in with family members and rent out their bungalows rather than sell, because there was a wait list for vacationers willing to pay exorbitant fees for the summer season.
The Seaside Café Page 3
