Thomas Kinkade's Cape Light

by Katherine Spencer

He does look like a real writer. And I haven’t even served the black coffee yet, she thought wryly.

  A short time later, Zoey returned with his food. James was scribbling wildly in his notebook and didn’t notice her. “The ketchup is on the table. Can I get you anything else—more coffee?”

  He looked up then, down at the food, as if he had just woken from a nap. She could see that he had been off in his own world, not purposely being rude.

  “That was fast. Thanks.” He met her gaze and pulled off his glasses, then took a huge bite of the burger. “This isn’t so bad,” he mumbled around the mouthful. “How long do church meetings last? My grandmother is the only person in the world without a cell phone.”

  Zoey checked her watch. “The first probably didn’t start until at least half past eleven, after coffee hour. The second meeting probably started around twelve thirty, or even one?”

  He looked relieved and ate a French fry. “Thanks. I guess I don’t have to choke this down, after all.”

  “You’d better not. I don’t know the Heimlich maneuver, and it takes a long time to read that poster.” She was teasing. She knew all types of first-aid procedures, but had never needed to use them. She certainly didn’t want to start on James. “More coffee?” she asked.

  “I’m good. I keep forgetting I’m not in the city. No reason to stay up all night. I’ve been sleeping like a baby at my grandmother’s house. It’s so peaceful out there, it’s like a Zen retreat or something.”

  Zoey smiled. She felt the same about Sophie’s house and the orchard. “A Zen retreat with apples.”

  “Exactly.”

  She liked the way he laughed at her jokes. She watched James inhale more fries, her tray balanced on her hip. “I thought you’d be on your way back to New York by now.”

  He shook his head, his blue eyes disconcertingly wide. “I’m staying with my grandmother for a few weeks. Through the holidays. She needs the help, and I can use a break from the city.”

  “Oh, wow . . . that’s good!” Zoey blurted out. Then she quickly tried to backtrack. “I mean, it works out well for both of you. I sort of worry about Sophie being alone out there.”

  She felt her face turning red. So much for acting cool. No matter what she had said to cover up her flub, he knew now she liked him.

  Good job, Zoey. That would have been lame even if you were still in middle school.

  “I think it’s going to work out fine. This village is more interesting than I remembered.” He met her gaze again and smiled. Was he really flirting with her? Zoey gave herself a mental shake. Get a grip. You have to be imagining that.

  Usually, she would have walked away by now, letting a customer take his time with his meal. For some reason, she felt a sudden, uncontrollable urge to rush him along.

  “I guess you’re in a hurry to pick up your grandmother. Here’s your check.” She had added the total and quickly tore off the slip and placed it facedown on his table.

  James sat back and stared at her. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.” She turned and walked away, feeling his eyes on her.

  Back at the counter, she attacked the napkin dispensers again and forced herself not to look at him. He had his notebook open and seemed oblivious once more to his surroundings, lifting the last of his French fries mechanically to his mouth.

  If he’s staying here a few weeks, does that mean he doesn’t have a steady relationship in New York? But maybe his girlfriend is going to visit him here. That wouldn’t be too hard.

  After a few moments, she saw him stand and put some bills on the table. He slipped on his jacket and headed for the door. “So long, Zoey. I’ll see you around.”

  “Sure. See you.” She nodded and looked back at the napkins, her very important work.

  The door closed. Zoey sighed with relief. So, James Potter wasn’t disappearing to New York this weekend. She wasn’t sure if that was good news or bad. She already had a little crush on him and got the feeling he liked her, too.

  But she could also see that James knew he was attractive and liked to flirt. She guessed he had girls falling all over him. I shouldn’t take him seriously.

  Her attraction seemed just as pointless now as it had when she thought he was on his way back to Manhattan. Maybe even more.

  Even if he doesn’t have a steady girlfriend, he would never be interested in me. And he’s only staying for a few weeks. It’s not as if he’s moving here. Another reason not to think too much about him.

  Zoey strolled over to pick up the check on James’s table and take away the dirty dishes. He had left her a generous tip.

  Which I don’t exactly deserve. Along with the check and the money, she found another slip of paper, folded in half. It looked like it must have been torn from his notebook. She opened it and read:

  “Not all those who wander are lost.” —J. R. R. Tolkien

  Glad I wandered in here today and saw you. —J.

  Zoey was surprised . . . and pleased. She quickly read the note a second time and felt herself blush. Maybe he does like me—a little? Or he’s a terrible flirt. Maybe both things are true, she realized with a smile. I guess now I’ll have time to find out.

  She tucked the note in the pocket of her uniform and practically skipped to the register with the table check. Just as she was putting the money in the drawer, a huge crash in the kitchen made her jump. She slammed the register drawer and ran toward the kitchen.

  “Dad, is everything okay back there?”

  The kitchen doors flew open and Scotty ran out. He pulled on a fleece jacket with one hand and pulled off his apron with the other, then tossed the apron on the counter and headed for the door. “Bye, Zoey. Good luck. Your father is crazy. I hope you know that.”

  Zoey turned to watch his speedy exit, but didn’t reply.

  She knew Charlie had his difficult moments. But another part of her—a larger part—bristled with indignation at the insult.

  She pushed through the doors to find her father standing in a pile of broken pottery. A broom and a dustpan in hand, he didn’t seem to know where to start. It looked as if the dishwasher had exploded, but of course, that was not the problem.

  “Dad . . . what a mess. What happened?”

  “That damn fool kid . . . I told him not to overload that shelving. The bolt came loose from the wall, and I didn’t have a chance to fix it yet. Did he listen to me? No, sir. Why listen to me? I’m only the boss around here.”

  Zoey bent to pick up a piece of a broken plate near her foot, but Charlie shouted at her, “Gloves, Zoey! Heavy ones. Use your head. I don’t need a trip to the emergency room today on top of everything.”

  Good point, she thought, though he could have said it in a nicer way. She pulled on some work gloves she found near the utility closet and brought over another broom and trash bag.

  “To top it off, the darn kid quits on me. Jumps right over the mess and out the door. Like a scared rabbit.” Her father’s voice got progressively louder. “Does he think he’s going to come back next week, looking for his paycheck? I’m deducting every dish, cup, and saucer. He’s going to end up owing me money.”

  Unlike some other restaurants, Charlie didn’t usually charge the help for items that were broken while serving. It’s not as if the Clam Box served on fine china and crystal. But she knew some restaurants did charge the help, and this situation was extreme. Though on the other hand, was it really Scott’s fault that her father had not fixed the bolt?

  “It’s too bad you didn’t get to fix the shelf, Dad,” Zoey said finally. “Anybody could have overloaded it.”

  “‘Anybody’ didn’t do it. He did. After I warned him.” Charlie dumped a scoop of broken glass into the trash barrel. “I can’t do everything around here and run the town, too. That’s the problem, Zoey. Flip the burgers, fix the bolts, open up, close down. Et cetera and so
on . . .”

  Zoey could tell he was approaching some meltdown moment. She didn’t know what to say. She picked up a few more pieces of broken pottery and tossed them into the pail, too.

  “Problem is, I need a manager, someone who knows the diner and can watch over it for me.”

  “That’s a good idea. You should find someone. Did Trudy ever get back to you?”

  “She doesn’t want to do it. She’s made up her mind. I can’t persuade her.”

  “That’s too bad.” Trudy had been working at the diner as long as Zoey could remember. She wouldn’t need any time to be trained.

  “It is too bad,” her father said. “That’s why I need you to step up. As soon as your term is done, I need you to work here during your school break and handle things. I’ll give you a nice raise.”

  Zoey dropped the bits of broken glass in her hand and stared at him. “I told you I can’t work here full-time during my break. I’ve applied for an internship at the center where I volunteer. If I get it, it starts right after Christmas. Even if I don’t, I promised them I’d come in extra hours in January, at least twenty hours a week.”

  Charlie shook his head. “I know, but this is real work I need you to do. Not volunteer stuff. I can’t do two jobs at once, honey. It’s just not humanly possible.”

  Zoey felt so upset and angry, she thought she was going to cry. “My stuff is important, too. I’m really happy that you’re finally mayor. I know you really wanted that for a long time. But why does that have to mess up my entire life?”

  “Mess up your life?” Charlie looked amused now, leaning on his broom and rolling his eyes. “How am I messing up your entire life? You have more than a month off from school and absolutely nothing to do. A lot of college kids are scrabbling for jobs right now, trying to make a little money over their vacation.”

  “Then put an ad in the newspaper or post it online. You can hire one of them,” she retorted.

  He squinted at her. “Don’t sass me, young lady. You know what I mean. I’ve already hired you. I’m expanding your responsibilities and your hours. It’s not like I’m asking you to do this for free.”

  Zoey took a breath and tried another tack. “I know I don’t get paid at the center. But I need the experience and good recommendations from the people I work with there for my résumé. If I suddenly disappear for two months, they won’t think I have a serious commitment.”

  Her father didn’t answer right away, and for a moment she thought she had swayed him.

  “I don’t know what to do about that,” he finally said. “I think you ought to talk to them, tell them you have a family emergency and you have to take a break for a few weeks. It’s not a lie, Zoey. This is important. I don’t mean for it all to fall on you. But C.J. has to go back to school right after Christmas, to make up some course he needs during intercession. Or I’d have him in here, too. Though I have to add, I wouldn’t trust him to run things around here the way I trust you.”

  Zoey knew her father thought that was a huge compliment. She did feel a bit proud of his trust in her, but she also wished her brother was here to share the job. C.J. worked in the diner as much as she did when he was home from school, and she missed having him around. At least they had some fun together.

  “I’m sorry, honey,” Charlie said, “but this is more important than your volunteer work right now. We’ve got a situation here that’s urgent.”

  “But, Dad—”

  He shook his head. “Case closed. I’m not talking about this anymore. Now you go out front and turn the sign. We’re closing early today.”

  Zoey pulled off the gloves and pushed through the kitchen doors. She felt her eyes blur with tears of anger and frustration.

  Stuck in this diner her entire winter break? No internship. Not even volunteer hours? And what about a social life or any fun things she might want to do during time off from school? It sounded as if her father expected her to sleep in the pantry or something.

  She flipped the sign on the door to SORRY, WE’RE CLOSED. SEE YOU SOON! Then she locked the door and started the rest of the routine—the closing-up chores that she knew by heart.

  There had to be some way out of this. Some way to change her father’s mind. She wondered if her mother knew about this plan. Zoey doubted it.

  Mom will speak up for me, Zoey told herself. She knows I can’t be stuck in the diner for my whole winter break. It’s great that Dad got to be mayor. Whoopee for him. But why does that mean my entire life has to be screwed up? It’s just totally and completely unfair.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Careful on these potholes, honey. I’d rather we didn’t bust an axle,” Sophie gently warned her grandson. “This truck is so old, no one will be able to find the part.”

  “Good point, Grandma.” James didn’t own a car and hadn’t been driving at all in the city, so he didn’t mind driving slowly today. The truck handled like a small armored tank; he had no idea how his grandmother drove it on her own.

  It was nearly two p.m., and they were just getting back from the village. Though Sophie had given up running the church Christmas Fair, she had stayed on after the Sunday service to give her successor detailed instructions.

  “You ought to get this private road paved, Grandma.”

  “I know. I never got around to it. I suppose if I ever want to sell the place, it would be a good idea. You don’t want prospective buyers to get their teeth shaken loose before they even see the place.”

  “Why not? That would definitely put them off,” he pointed out.

  Sophie laughed. “Good idea. Every time your father suggests it, I’ll just put him off. Tell him it gives the place a real country feel.”

  As they rounded a bend in the lane, another car came into view. It was parked alongside the house, and James recognized it immediately—a sleek BMW sedan with a Connecticut license plate. “Looks like you’ll get a chance to tell my dad right now.”

  His grandmother peered out the windshield. “I’ll be. That is his car, isn’t it? Sneaky to park on the side of the house like that. I didn’t even see it.”

  “Dad isn’t exactly sneaky. But he likes to have an edge. A surprise ambush is definitely his style.” James came around to the passenger side and helped his grandmother down from her seat. It was a bit of a hop to the ground, but she was surprisingly nimble for an old person.

  She stood by the truck a moment, yanked down her knitted hat. and tucked a few strands of hair under the edge.

  “Are you all right, Grandma? Need to catch your breath?”

  She shook her head. “Not at all. Just straightening myself out to face your father. It can’t be a good sign, him coming all the way out here alone. It might be nothing, but”—she swiped some lipstick across her small mouth and dropped the tube back in her bag, then took her grandson’s arm—“I think we should be prepared.”

  James nodded. He felt the same. Just the sight of the sedan made his stomach knot.

  As they walked up to the house, the side door swung open. James’s father stood there, smiling. Mac jumped up and did a little dance around his grandmother. James imagined the dog was confused, waiting alone with the surprise visitor.

  “There you are. I thought you’d never get back. I tried your cell phone, James. Didn’t you see my messages?”

  “Sorry, the battery died. I couldn’t charge it in the truck.”

  Bart glanced at the old red pickup. “It’s surprising that engine still turns over. Charging a phone might have killed the battery.”

  “Don’t talk that way about Bella. She might hear you.” Sophie walked past him and took off her heavy coat and muffler but, for some reason, left her hat on. James guessed she thought it made her look more dignified—or perhaps even regal? The hand-crocheted hat did have a bit of a crown shape to it, and some tiny pearls sewn on as well.

  “The truck has
a name?” Bart followed his mother into the kitchen. “I suppose you’ve named the trees, too.”

  Sophie smiled. “Of course I have. I could pick out each one blindfolded, too. Why do you think they’ve given us such wonderful-tasting fruit all these years? That’s no accident, son.” She had flipped Mac a biscuit, and he trotted back to his dog bed and crunched on it happily. Then she turned to the sink and started filling the kettle.

  “I’ll make some tea. Would you like to have dinner with us, Bart? I’m just heating some leftovers Evelyn gave me.”

  “Thanks, but I’ve got to get on the road. I had some business in Boston the last two days. I just stopped by to say hello before I head home.”

  Cape Light was almost two hours north of Boston. Not exactly the most direct route back to Connecticut, James knew.

  “Very thoughtful of you, son. But you didn’t have to go out of your way like that,” his grandmother said.

  “I want to make sure the house is ready for the winter,” his father replied. “I think you ought to chop more wood and put insulation tape around all the windows. And the basement door. I can feel a draft from here.”

  “Good idea. I’ll make a note,” Sophie replied, though she made no move to write it down.

  “Buy plenty of Ice Melt and some sand for that private road. We need to get it paved soon, Mom. It’s treacherous.”

  The kettle hissed, and Sophie turned to lower the heat. “James and I were just talking about that road. You do need to take it slow, but it gives the place a real country feeling. People visiting the orchard for pick-your-own just love that.” She glanced at James with a mischievous grin.

  “I know you like things a certain way, Mom. You’re used to the clutter and the inconveniences. But we need to keep this place up. By the time you’re finally ready to sell, it will be a falling-down wreck. I was just upstairs. Some of those rooms look like walk-in closets, and every one of them could use a coat of paint.”

  “Things do accumulate. I can’t argue with that.” Sophie carried the teapot to the table and set out three mugs, though James had never once seen his father drink tea.