Removing the seat cushions from the love seat, Kayana pulled out the collapsible bed and made it up. She’d enjoyed spending time at Graeme’s home. It was a change from her apartment above the restaurant, and despite not being as large as the house where she’d grown up, she discovered it was spacious enough for at least two people. And it was more than apparent that Graeme had spared no expense when renovating his island home.
A trio of doors off the kitchen concealed a pantry, a laundry room with the latest, up-to-date washer/dryer, and a half-bath with a commode, vanity, and shower stall. One of the bedrooms on the second floor had become a home office, with a desktop computer and printer on an L-shaped workstation. Bookcases lined against one wall were half-filled, an alpaca rug covered the hardwood floor, and framed black-and-white and color photographs of the world’s capital cities hung from the wall facing the doorway. She also noticed there were no photographs of Graeme with his parents in the study or in any of the rooms in the house. Although tempted to go inside and examine the spines of the books, Kayana had held back because she didn’t want to be tempted to examine the loose sheets of paper stacked on the desk. Graeme had said he was attempting to write a novel, and when he hadn’t been forthcoming as to what he was writing about, she hadn’t asked.
She undressed and slipped into a pair of cotton pajamas, checked the doors for the last time, armed the security system, turned off the lights, and then got into bed. Graeme had given her an extra set of keys and the code to the alarm company. Barley whined for her to pick him up, but she ignored his whining until he finally walked over to the bed in the screened-in porch and settled down to go to sleep. If Graeme didn’t want his dog to sleep in the bed with him, then she would adhere to the house rule.
Kayana slept fitfully throughout the night, and when the alarm on her cellphone went off at 4:30, she welcomed it, as it had banished the disturbing dream of a baby crying inconsolably. She’d found herself running in and out of rooms to find the child, but all of them were empty. The crying continued before growing faint and disappearing altogether. She didn’t know if talking to Graeme about his adoption had triggered the strange dream. Was it about his birth mother trying to locate him? But the young woman had to know the legal names of his adopted parents, and even though they’d passed away, it would be easy enough for her to contact Graeme. Kayana took a shower, dressed, and put out fresh water for Barley. She walked him, waiting patiently for him to finish doing his business, then walked him back to the house, and closed and locked the door behind her. Now that Graeme was on the road to recovery, she planned to bring over enough food to last him several days.
“Good morning, Kayana.”
Groaning under her breath, Kayana turned and smiled at the woman who’d been her third-grade teacher. Fortunately, she’d been able to leave Graeme’s house without encountering anyone—until now.
“Good morning, Miss Donaldson.”
The retired teacher must have discovered the Fountain of Youth. Her blond hair had silvered, while her slender figure had remained virtually unchanged. Either she had inherited remarkable genes, or she’d gone another route where she had been nipped and tucked or used fillers to hold back the hands of time.
“How have you been?”
“Very well, Miss Donaldson.”
The older woman angled her head, smiling. “I must say you’re looking very well.”
“So are you,” Kayana countered. She wanted to ask the woman what her secret was for not aging.
“Twenty years ago, I decided to become a vegetarian, and it changed my life. Not only do I believe I look better, but I feel fantastic.”
“It definitely shows. I’d love to stay and chat, but I have to get to work.” Kayana had to get away from the talkative woman, who’d earned a reputation as an incurable gossip.
“Are you still reading?” Miss Donaldson asked as Kayana turned and walked to her vehicle.
“Of course,” she said over her shoulder. Miss Donaldson had taught English and language arts at the local elementary school, and had been responsible for introducing her to the love of reading. Kayana started up her SUV and drove away from Graeme’s house, peering up at the rearview mirror to find that her third-grade teacher hadn’t moved from where she’d left her.
Kayana knew it wouldn’t take long before the news of her involvement with Graeme, no matter how platonic, would spread throughout the island. Most of the locals tended to avoid Miss Donaldson or were careful about what they said to her if they didn’t want it repeated. The retired former teacher was among a few older women—single or widowed—who were counting down to the time when they would sell their homes to strangers. Some of the kids with whom Kayana had grown up left the island as soon as they graduated high school, claiming there was no future for them on Coates Island.
The two-mile-long island was a summer paradise for the owners of the mom-and-pop novelty shops, but once the season ended, all activity slowed to a crawl. Students who attended the high school on the mainland tended to hang out there after classes or on the weekends. The mainland mall—with its movie theater, fast-food restaurants, game arcade, shops, and boutiques—offered discounts to repeat shoppers.
As the only eating establishment on the island, the Seaside Café could count on a steady stream of customers from the Memorial Day weekend to Labor Day, with enough of a profit to keep it viable for the next nine months. Kayana pulled into her reserved spot in the restaurant’s parking lot and shut off the engine. The only other vehicle in the lot was a white panel van with the name of the restaurant stamped on the front doors. Derrick would occasionally drive the van when he needed to pick up restaurant equipment or supplies.
She unlocked the rear door, disarmed and then armed the security system. Climbing the staircase, she opened the door to her apartment and was met with a blast of hot air. Knowing she was going to spend the night at Graeme’s place, to save on energy she’d shut off the air conditioner. Kayana left her overnight bag on the floor, closed the door, and retraced her steps to the kitchen. She changed out of her street clothes and into the uniform of a tunic, pants, and clogs before covering her head with a bandana from a stack on a shelf in the linen closet.
Six more weeks. That was how long she would be committed to getting up at dawn to prepare a buffet breakfast. After Labor Day, she and Derrick would alternate two weeks on and two off, Monday through Saturday, preparing a 10:00 a.m. to 2:00 p.m. buffet brunch. Sunday would become their day of rest.
Derrick had talked incessantly about missing his daughter, while Kayana wanted to remind him that he needed to get used to missing her for more than the summer once she enrolled in college. Deandra had mentioned completing her senior year of high school in Florida in order to establish permanent residency because her intent was to attend one of their state colleges. Her niece’s disclosure upset Derrick, and he’d gone into a funk for several days. Kayana had to remind him that at seventeen Deandra was growing up and becoming an independent young adult.
Kayana knew it wasn’t easy for Derrick to let go of his daughter after losing his wife, but she promised she would always be there for him. And there was always the possibility that Deandra would someday take over running the Café like her father, aunt, grandmother, and great-grandmother before her.
* * *
Kayana stared intently as Cherie and Leah sampled the mai tai mocktail. The nonalcoholic drink was the perfect complement to the Asian-inspired menu for their third book club discussion meeting.
Cherie smiled. “This is delicious, and I don’t miss the rum.”
“I agree,” Leah said. “What did you use to make it?”
“Almond syrup, grenadine, lime, orange, and pineapple juice, and sparkling water.” Three maraschinos on toothpicks and an orange slice provided a vibrant garnish for the bubbly drink.
Cherie took another sip. “Next year, I plan to rent a bungalow way before the summer season begins so I’ll have a kitchen.”
Kayana removed
the lids from serving dishes that held deep-fried pork garnished with chives with a soy dipping sauce, bite-size spareribs, shredded orange beef, and fluffy white rice. Cooking the rice was a reminder of the time she’d given Graeme a cooking lesson, while unaware she would sleep under his roof after he’d come down with what she suspected was a virus. After two days during which he registered a normal body temperature, she knew it was time for her to sleep in her own bed. She’d left containers of soup, salads, and steamed vegetables in his refrigerator for him to eat until he’d feel strong enough to venture outdoors.
She smiled at the younger woman. It was the first time she’d noticed Cherie wearing makeup. “You plan on coming back here next year?”
“Yes, but only for three weeks. I took off this summer without pay, so I won’t lose my accrued vacation time.”
Leah set down her glass. “Are we going to resume our book club discussions next summer?”
Kayana handed Leah a plate. “I’m game if you are.”
“So am I,” Leah said in agreement. “What about you, Cherie?”
“Count me in. I’d like to suggest we choose the books we want to discuss for next summer before we leave. That way we’ll know what we’re going to read.”
“That’s a good idea,” Kayana said.
Leah filled her plate with rice and shredded beef. “If Cherie’s only going to be here for three weeks, then each of us should select one of their favorites. My choice is Memoirs of a Geisha.”
Kayana waited until Cherie filled her plate before serving herself. “That’s one I haven’t read. However, I did see the movie.”
“The book is better than the movie,” Leah countered, as she picked up a place setting. “Which one do you recommend?”
“Love in the Time of Cholera by Gabriel García Márquez.” The novel rated high on Kayana’s list of favorite books. “What about you, Cherie?”
“My choice is a little dark, but it is a masterpiece. The Alienist by Caleb Carr.”
“Wasn’t that a TV miniseries?” Kayana questioned.
Cherie nodded. “Yes, but the book goes more in depth. I believe you would like it because the protagonist is a psychologist—or alienist, as they called them at the time. The novel is set in New York City at the dawn of the twentieth century.”
Kayana smiled. “Don’t you think it’s ironic that we’ve chosen period pieces?”
“That’s because brilliant minds think alike,” Leah quipped.
“Hear, hear!” Cherie and Kayana chorused.
“Before we rave about what we’re going read next, are we going to discuss Pride and Prejudice today?” Leah asked.
“Of course,” Cherie replied. “After rereading this novel, I realize today’s so-called modern woman isn’t that different from Austen’s heroines.”
“Why would you say that?” Leah asked.
“Because Mrs. Bennet’s sole focus is making certain her daughters marry wealthy, eligible bachelors.”
Kayana’s fork halted in midair. “Not all modern women are looking to marry well. Sometimes it happens, and sometimes it doesn’t.” She thought about her own marriage to James Hudson and his family’s status as members of Atlanta’s black elite.
Leah nodded. “I have to agree with Cherie. Most of the girls at my school have coming-out parties where they’re introduced to young boys in their same social class with the hope they will make suitable matches.”
“The difference between the Bennet sisters and today’s single woman is choice and options,” Kayana said, after taking a sip of the punch. “We don’t have to marry in order to support ourselves, and we have the choice of marrying or remaining single without being stigmatized. Charlotte Lucas, who happens to be Elizabeth’s best friend, accepts Mr. Collins’s proposal after he’s rejected by Elizabeth because Charlotte doesn’t have any suitors, and is nearly thirty and a spinster. For Charlotte, it’s not about love but being mistress of her own home. And don’t forget that Mr. Collins, who just happens to be a Bennet cousin, stood to inherit the Bennet estate upon the death of Mr. Bennet.”
“And remember,” Leah interjected, “at that time, a woman’s gender prohibited her from inheriting property. If there were no sons, then the next male heir in line would get everything. And if he chose, he could evict his female cousins, so it was incumbent upon a woman to marry well.”
Kayana recalled the girls with whom she had attended college who had applied to Spelman because they were single-focused on marrying a Morehouse brother. “Women have come a long way when it comes to being self-sufficient, but not much has changed when it comes to Jane Austen’s courtship and today’s dating. Women have standards for what they want in a husband, and it’s the same with men seeking a wife. In Pride and Prejudice, the elder Bennets are landed gentry, and they expect their daughters not to marry below their social status.”
Cherie nodded. “It was the same with the girls at Yale. I got so sick of them preaching that they would only marry a man who graduated from an Ivy League college.”
“That’s so shallow,” Leah said, wrinkling her nose as if she smelled something malodorous.
Cherie emitted an unladylike snort. “Shallow or not, that’s who they are.”
“I really like Elizabeth because she is one of Austen’s strongest female characters,” Kayana stated. “She meets Mr. Darcy again at Lady Catherine de Bourgh’s home, and he asks her to marry him, and she refuses, despite his wealth and good looks, because Mr. Wickham told her how Darcy broke up the romance between Mr. Bingley and her sister Jane.”
Cherie made a sucking sound with her tongue and teeth. “Wickham reminds me of a lot of boys I grew up with. Their only focus was using women for their own selfish needs. When Wickham convinced Lydia Bennet to run away with him, he had no intention of marrying her. He’d also attempted the same with Darcy’s sister, who was even younger than Lydia at the time.”
“Are you saying he took Darcy’s sister’s virginity?” Leah asked Cherie.
“I’m not certain. It may have been implied by Darcy.”
“We do know that he took Lydia’s,” Kayana said. “If he’d been around today, he probably would’ve been a baby daddy many times over.”
Holding a cherry by the stem, Leah popped it into her mouth. “Who’s to say he wasn’t? He did have a pattern of seducing young girls. I think Lydia was all of fifteen, which would make him a pedophile by today’s standards.”
Kayana was content to listen to Cherie and Leah analyze each of the Bennet sisters and the men they’d chosen as suitors. Cherie proved to be a hopeless romantic when she admitted she hated Wickham because he told Elizabeth that Darcy was responsible for Mr. Bingley breaking up with Jane.
“I rarely read romance,” Kayana admitted, “but the novel has the same formula of boy meets girl, boy loses girl, boy finds girl, and they live happily ever after.”
“And don’t forget Wickham’s the villain, and there’s a meddling older woman who happens to be Lady Catherine de Bourgh, who believes Elizabeth isn’t what she would approve of as a wife for Darcy,” Leah added.
“Kayana, who were your favorite and least favorite characters?” Cherie questioned.
“I really like Elizabeth because she refused to be swayed by Darcy just because he proposed marriage. Her first impression is a lasting one when she overhears him refusing to dance with her. I also like Bingley. For him, it was love at first sight when he saw Jane. I’m ambivalent when it comes to Darcy because there were times when he was a complete ass. But he managed to redeem himself when he blackmailed Wickham into marrying Lydia by paying off his debts, while providing him with a substantial amount of money. Mrs. Bennet irked me because she was so anxious to get her daughters married that she never considered their feelings. The poor woman did have a hissy fit after Elizabeth turned down Mr. Collins’s proposal. Mr. Bennet is what I think of as a cool dude. Lady de Bourgh is certainly on my shit list, along with Wickham, when she demands that Elizabeth promise that she will n
ever become engaged to Darcy. The manipulative heifer even has the audacity to tell Elizabeth that she can strip Darcy of his wealth if he goes against her wishes. What she fails to realize is that Lizzy is not one to be intimidated. We all know what Wickham is about. I’m willing to bet that if Austen had written a sequel, Wickham and Lydia would not be together. She’d end up with stairstep kids, while her husband would spend most of his time in a pub drinking, gambling, and praying he’ll win enough money to buy some food for his family.”
“What about you, Leah?” Cherie questioned.
The redhead pressed her palms in a prayerful gesture. “I like Charlotte because she didn’t delude herself as to her status. She wanted a husband and her own household, and she got both once she married Mr. Collins. I too like Bingley because it was impossible for him to hide his affection for Jane. Lydia almost got what she deserved if Darcy hadn’t bailed her out. She forgot that she was raised as a gentlewoman when she ran off to ho around with Wickham.”
“No, you didn’t say ‘ho,’ ” Kayana said under her breath.
“Yes, I did.” Leah stressed the three words. “That’s what she was until Darcy forced Wickham to marry her. Darcy irked the hell out of me. First, he appears so unattainable, and then when Elizabeth rejects him, he views her as a challenge because she’s the one controlling the courtship. My least favorite would have to be Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Everything about the pompous, malicious, manipulative bitch reminds me of my mother-in-law.”
Kayana glanced at Cherie, who lowered her eyes with Leah’s outburst. The animosity she felt for her husband’s mother was palpable. Kayana knew from her initial meeting with her future mother-in-law that the woman did not approve of her for a number of reasons: She and her siblings were first-generation college graduates, her family were shopkeepers, and even if Kayana did marry her son, she would never be acceptable to those in her social circle. Her words were prophetic because Kayana was rarely invited to Hunter family gatherings, which prompted James to host, with annoying regularity, his own get-togethers where he’d become the center of attraction.
The Seaside Café Page 18
