Farewell to Cedar Key

by Terri DuLong

  “Oh, okay. I had a question about that new sock pattern I’m working on. Not a big deal. I’ll be at the knitting group tomorrow evening and you can help me then. It’s not as if I don’t have another dozen or so projects in the works that I can do this evening.”

  I let out a chuckle. She was right. Was there any serious knitter who didn’t have way more than one project going at the same time?

  “Okay,” I said. “If I don’t see you before, I’ll see you at the shop tomorrow evening.”

  7

  “That was delicious, Mom,” I said as I helped her to clear the table. Although Delilah did cook most of the meals for my parents, on her evenings off my mother proved herself to be a very adequate cook.

  “Oh, thank you. I was lying down for most of the afternoon, so I wanted something that would be easy to put together. The chicken dish was a recipe from an old Good Housekeeping magazine. I’m glad you liked it. I can copy the recipe for you.”

  “Great,” I said, knowing I’d probably never use it. While I wasn’t a bad cook, I tended to lean toward the simple, and I knew that despite what she said, the chicken had involved at least an hour of prep time. “You’re not feeling well again?”

  She waved a perfectly manicured hand in the air. “No, it was nothing. Just a tummy twinge and could have been something I ate.”

  Orli began to help my mother fill the dishwasher.

  “Want me to get the coffee ready?”

  “Yes, that would be good, Josie. We’ll have it outside on the patio.”

  After I filled the paper coffee filter and poured the carafe of water into the machine, I reached into the cabinet for the tray and arranged three mugs along with the sugar bowl and creamer. So far, so good with mealtime conversation. We had kept it light, mostly about the current novel my mother was working on, some local gossip, and Orli’s school activities.

  “So,” my mother said as the four of us sat at the patio table. “Hasn’t Ben even contacted you about the memorial service for his uncle?”

  I took a sip of coffee and nodded. “Actually, he did this afternoon. It’s being held in a few weeks.”

  “Yes, I knew that. October tenth at the Methodist church, with a lunch after. Sydney called and told me all that. But what else did Ben have to say? Will he be keeping Al’s house and stay there when he visits? Is he going to move here permanently now?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “No idea? What on earth did he tell you?”

  “He didn’t actually tell me anything. He left a message on my home machine with only the details about the service. That was it.”

  My mother shook her head. “I swear, Josephine, you have the strangest relationships with men. I’ll just never understand. You two barely see each other, it doesn’t seem you’re in contact very much, his uncle passes away, and you don’t seem to know anything. You call this a romance?”

  I knew I was gnawing on my lower lip and didn’t care. “I’ve never called this a romance—whatever it is. It’s not one of your novels. Ben and I have been trying to figure out exactly what it is we have. Which at this point doesn’t seem like very much. So let it go, Mom. Please.”

  My mother was about to say something more, but my father interrupted her. “So, Josie, am I still the lone pupil for those knitting classes?”

  Bless my dad. “No, actually, you’re not. I had a man sign up today. He’s new in town and renting a place on Third Street for the winter. He’s in your age group and seems very nice.”

  “Terrific. I look forward to meeting him. I think it’ll be a fun class.”

  “Oh,” my mother said, “and I forgot to tell you, I bumped into Doyle Summers at the book shop earlier today and he plans to drop by and sign up too. So you’ll have at least three.”

  “Very good. And maybe there will be a couple more,” I told her, grateful that she’d gotten off the subject of Ben. “And . . . I think I have some good news to share. You know the new doctor who’s opening a practice here? Dr. Clark had recommended me, and Dr. Mancini called me today to set up an interview for Friday.”

  My father reached over to squeeze my arm. “That is good news, Josie. It would be great if you could work right here in town instead of having to do the commute to Gainesville.”

  When my mother didn’t comment, I looked over at her, waiting for a reaction.

  “Well . . . yes. That does sound promising. Of course, there’s a huge difference between working for a small-town doctor and a large city hospital. But . . . of course that’s your choice.”

  Yes, Mom, I thought, it is.

  “So,” she said, “I don’t think I’ve told you. The foolishness with CC? It’s only getting worse. Now she tells me she’s planning a trip to Tuscany with this young guy. Not only that, it seems she’s picking up the tab. Can you imagine! I have no idea what on earth has gotten into her.”

  I caught the wink that Orli sent me across the table and smiled.

  “Mom, maybe he makes her happy. Did you ever stop to think about that? Just because she’s paying, it doesn’t mean he’s taking advantage of her. Maybe she enjoys his company, he couldn’t afford his share of the trip . . . and rather than not go at all, CC is paying.”

  My mother waved her hand in the air. “Crazy. That’s what it is. Just downright crazy. And Jane? I spoke to her again today and she doesn’t seem to have a problem with it either.” My mother shook her head before taking a sip of her coffee.

  I let out a deep sigh. “Maybe Jane’s right. Maybe CC’s reached an age when she’s entitled to do stuff like this. Act silly. Be spontaneous. Enjoy the moment.” Saying this, I realized that my mother had probably never once experienced any of those things.

  After we got home, Orli curled up at the other end of the sofa to watch a rerun of Downton Abbey, the British TV series that we were both hooked on.

  With Clovelly stretched out between us, I began casting on stitches for the first facecloth I planned to make.

  During a commercial, Orli glanced over and said, “Oh, pretty. I love the color. What’s it going to be?”

  “A lacy facecloth. I thought they would be nice Christmas gifts for your teachers, with a bar of scented soap wrapped inside.”

  “Perfect. Sometimes I think my teachers are thrilled to have me at the beginning of the year because they can count on a nice hand-knit Christmas gift from you.”

  I looked over and saw the smile on her face. “Oh, I doubt that. They know what a superb student they’re getting. Speaking of which, any more thought about where you’ll be applying for college? Is the university in Gainesville still in the running?”

  “Oh, definitely. I’m just not sure if I want to go to a town I’m so familiar with. Maybe it would be better to go to school in the northeast.”

  I could feel a lump forming in my throat at just the thought of Orli leaving home for college, but I nodded. “Yeah, time to spread your wings, huh? Like where? Boston area?”

  “Hmm, maybe. Or New York. There’s lots of great colleges there too.”

  The show resumed and I stayed quiet, lost in my own thoughts while I knitted. Who was I to say anything? I had done exactly the same thing when I graduated high school. Left my small-town life and headed to Emerson College in Boston. And of course, I’d never regretted it for one minute. It was where I had met Grant. It was where I had conceived my daughter. But still . . . the thought of Orli so far away made me feel sad.

  I recalled the conversation earlier with my mother about CC. Here I was thinking that my mother had never done anything silly or spontaneous. But had I? Sure, I’d left home for college, but that wasn’t so remarkable. Sure, during my first few months in the dorm, I drank beer under age, took a few hits of pot, but beyond that, when was the last time I’d done anything that wasn’t responsible or practical? After having a daughter at nineteen, I’d chosen to skip those silly moments, trading them in for motherhood instead. And I wasn’t sorry. Not in the least. But now at age thirty-five, I could unders
tand even more why CC wanted to make her moments count—no matter who didn’t agree with her.

  Orli had gone to bed and I was still sitting on the sofa knitting when the phone rang. I glanced at the clock on the mantel as I headed to the kitchen. Who would be calling at close to ten-thirty?

  I answered and was surprised to hear Ben’s voice.

  “Josie?” He hesitated before saying, “I’m sorry to be calling a little late, but I wanted to discuss something with you.”

  His voice sounded odd. Had he been drinking?

  “No, it’s okay. I’m still up. What’s going on?”

  “Well—” He hesitated again before saying, “Well . . . um . . . you see. It seems that I’ve met somebody. . . .”

  Now I realized that what I heard in his voice was nerves and uncertainty.

  “It seems?” I asked.

  I heard a forced chuckle before he said, “Right. Well, I have met somebody. Her name is Dawn. She works with me, you see. A fairly new editor at the company. It started off with just a drink after work. You know.”

  Why did he always assume that I knew things? When I remained silent, he went on in a rush.

  “One thing led to another, drinks and then dinners and then, well, ah . . . Dawn informed me this evening that she’s pregnant. She just found out. She’s about ten weeks along. I thought you should know.”

  On wobbly legs, I found my way to the stool at the counter and managed to plunk down while trying to absorb what he’d just told me. He’d met a woman. She worked with him. They had drinks. Dinners. And now she was pregnant? There was no assumption involved on my part to know that he’d slept with her.

  “Oh, I see,” was all I could say. Yes, this time I did actually see what he was saying, and doing a quick calculation in my head, I realized he had slept with her in July, either before coming to Cedar Key or shortly after returning to New York.

  “Good. Good,” I heard him say.

  Good? For who? For him? For me?

  “And so . . . where does this leave us?” I asked, and then let out an exaggerated chuckle. “Oh, wait. There is no us, right?”

  “Well, no . . . not anymore. I wanted you to know before I came there for my uncle’s memorial. And I thought it might be easier to tell you on the phone. Dawn and I are planning to get married, but we’re not sure when. I just wanted you to know.”

  “Gee, that was really generous of you,” I said, and didn’t try to disguise the snarkiness in my tone. “Well . . . thank you so much for telling me, Ben. I do appreciate that, rather than finding out from somebody else.”

  “Oh, good,” I heard him reply, followed by a deep sigh across the line. “And just so you know, Dawn won’t be coming with me to Cedar Key next month. I’m going to get my uncle’s house listed with a realtor and put it up for sale. I’m really sorry it didn’t work out for us, Josie. You know how it is.”

  “I certainly do,” I said before hanging up the phone.

  I stood at the counter for a few minutes, not exactly sure what I was feeling. Sorrow? Rejection? Happiness? Relief?

  I walked to the fridge, removed an open bottle of Pinot Grigio, took a wineglass from the cabinet, filled the glass halfway, and then took a long sip. I sat back down on the stool and shook my head as laughter bubbled out of me.

  “What the hell just happened?” I said out loud to the empty kitchen.

  I took another sip of wine and shook my head again. One thing I knew for certain—sorrow was not among the emotions I was experiencing.

  8

  I wasn’t due into the yarn shop until noon, so I had called Mallory at seven in the morning and asked if she could join me for breakfast downtown at Ken’s Diner in an hour.

  When I walked upstairs, she was already seated at a booth near the window.

  “Hey,” I said, sliding in across from her. I waved my hand in the air at the waitress passing with the coffeepot. “Thanks,” I told her as she filled my mug. We gave our order and then I launched into an account of Ben’s call the night before.

  Mallory rested her elbows on the table and leaned toward me. “What. A. Shit. I can hardly believe this! So he goes back to New York, meets this woman, gets her pregnant . . . and all without formally telling you whatever you had together is finished?”

  I nodded. “Yup, that pretty much covers it.”

  “Thank God you never slept with him,” Mallory said, and when I remained silent, she asked, “You didn’t, did you?”

  I shook my head. “No, I did not. There was just never that attraction there for me. Not to mention the difficulties of maintaining a long-distance relationship.”

  “You seem a little down though. Are you sad it’s officially ended?”

  “No. Not really. But it does sting a little to be rejected.”

  Mallory let out a snort, causing me to smile. “Rejected? In my opinion, he did you a favor.” She took a sip of coffee. “Will you still go to Mr. Al’s memorial with him there?”

  “Of course I will. I’m sure as hell not going for Ben. I’ll be going for Mr. Al.”

  She reached across the table and patted my hand. “Good girl.”

  “You’re right,” I said. “He is a shit. Didn’t even have the nerve to tell me in person. Which is actually probably for the better. I have to admit, though, I sure didn’t see that coming. I guess I thought . . . oh, hell, I have no idea what I thought. Maybe you’re right. We were definitely going nowhere. I’d rather be alone than hooked up in such an iffy relationship.”

  “Exactly, and from what I hear, you just might be working for a mighty good-looking doctor.”

  My head snapped up to stare at her. “What do you mean? How do you even know what he looks like?”

  “Well,” she said, dragging out the word and waiting till the waitress put our breakfast plates in front of us. “Seems that Marin saw him yesterday afternoon sitting on the steps of the building that’s being remodeled. She had just come out of the chocolate shop, so she went over and introduced herself. She said he was very nice and very good-looking.”

  I shook my head and let out a chuckle. “And as we know, Marin has very good taste in men.”

  Mallory laughed. “Right. She said that Worth is a keeper but that a lot of the younger women in town will enjoy the eye candy with the new doc.” She paused for a moment. “Just sayin’.”

  I saw the grin on her face and took a bite of my eggs before saying, “Yeah, well, I don’t think I’m in the market for a new relationship right about now.”

  I walked into the yarn shop at noon and heard baby sounds coming from the needlepoint shop. After putting down my handbag, I went through the archway and found Marin sitting beside the portacrib working on a piece of canvas that was coming alive with various colored threads to form a teddy bear.

  Peeking into the crib, I smiled at Marin’s granddaughter, Andrea. “I swear she gets bigger every time I see her. Hi there, sweetie,” I said, reaching out my hand to touch her foot and receiving a beautiful smile.

  “I know. Hard to believe she turns five months old in a couple weeks. I love having her here with me at the shop on Thursdays. Gives us more time to bond, and she’s such a good baby.”

  “She’s certainly beautiful, and it’s obvious she loves her Nana. How’s the day care going on the other days?”

  “Wonderful. Leigh is just great with all the kids there, but it’s nice to have Andrea to myself one day a week.”

  I nodded. “And Fiona’s classes? Everything going okay?”

  “Great. She loves the university, and she’s anxious to graduate as a registered nurse in three more years.”

  During the past year Marin had experienced a life-changing event. After her husband passed away, she’d discovered that he had a grown daughter in the Boston area whom she knew nothing about. It had been a devastating ordeal for Marin to go through, but one that had changed her life in ways she’d never thought possible. After much soul searching, she met Fiona, her husband’s pregnant, nineteen-y
ear-old daughter, introduced her sons to their half sister, and discovered that not only did her two boys accept Fiona but that she had also developed a connection with her. Marin had encouraged Fiona to contact Greg, the father of the child. It was easy to see the love that the couple shared, both for each other and their newborn daughter.

  “Oh,” Marin said, getting up to put the needlepoint on the counter. “Fiona is so excited. It seems that Greg got the word yesterday that a position is being offered to him at the university in January.”

  “That’s wonderful news! I can only imagine how happy they both are.”

  The couple had decided that Fiona would finish her nursing education in Gainesville while she continued to live with the baby at Marin’s house. Greg would continue to teach in the Boston area while they both hoped that his connections in Gainesville would pay off, enabling him to relocate.

  “Does that mean that Fiona will be moving?” I asked, knowing how attached Marin had become to both her stepdaughter and her new granddaughter.

  She nodded and looked down at Andrea, happily kicking her legs while watching the mobile that turned above her head. “Yeah, I think it will. But . . . I’m okay with it. They’re going to wait until Fiona graduates to get married, but they should be together—raising their daughter as a couple. I knew that day would eventually come, and it’s fine. Besides, Fiona has already said not too much will change. It’s only a one-hour drive to Gainesville, and she said that I can keep Andrea every Wednesday evening overnight, so I’ll still have the baby one day a week.”

  “Oh, that is good news. I’m very happy for you, Marin, and I’m sure it’ll be nice to have more private time with Worth. Gosh, Fiona and the baby have been with you ever since Worth moved in.”

  “I know, and you’re right. We’re both thrilled to have them with us, but . . . yes, it’s time for us to be alone. Oh, hey, I met the new doctor who’s coming to town. He is very nice, not to mention quite good-looking. Is your interview tomorrow?”

  “Yeah, it is. Fingers crossed that it goes well. I really need this job. As much as I love working in the yarn shop, it would be nice to get back to nursing.” I heard the chimes on the yarn shop door and turned to leave.