The Way Home

by Katherine Spencer

  Emily glanced at her father and continued, “She gets very crabby. She doesn’t like anyone touching her toys.”

  “Can you blame her?” Mike asked. “She needs to sell that stuff. You can’t use it like some big trampoline. I better go up there and make sure you didn’t break anything.”

  “I don’t think she did,” Avery reported, winning another smile from Emily. “Though it was some landing. She’s really fearless, isn’t she?”

  Mike tried to make a serious face at his daughter but wasn’t quite able. “She needs to slow down and be careful.”

  “I am, Daddy. Can I go out and ride again?”

  Mike paused a moment, then nodded. “Don’t go too far. Nana’s coming to take you and Noah to the beach.”

  He had a lot to juggle, didn’t he? Running this place, his job at school, and raising his children alone. Any woman who got involved with him had to accept the whole enchilada.

  Could I do that? Avery wondered. I’ve always wanted kids, but I keep putting it off in my mind to someday. When I get a business going. When I meet the right man . . .

  Could Mike be the right man? It wouldn’t take too much more to convince her, she realized.

  “Sorry about that. I told her not to go that far,” Mike said, breaking into her thoughts.

  “Oh, that’s all right. I’m glad she’s not hurt.”

  “So you finally made it down the block to the Tuna. I was wondering if you would ever stick a toe in here.”

  His tone was half teasing, but half serious, too. Avery suddenly felt a little embarrassed that she hadn’t visited sooner. She had only seen him once or twice in the past week, she realized, strolling by the Peregrine.

  “Sorry, I should have come sooner. But it’s always so crowded, I never think I’ll make it past the door.”

  “So, what do you think? Is it everything you dreamed it would be?”

  “Oh, it is. And more. Much more,” she assured him with a laugh. “Honestly, I love the mural. Was that your idea?”

  “My dad’s. He was a bit of an artist. We’ve all added a few embellishments over the years.”

  There was a lot of history here, a lot of character, Avery realized. That’s what made it so charming and unique. And so very popular. It didn’t really matter what kind of food Mike served. People came here for the experience. For Mike, she realized. And she could finally understand that.

  “What are you thinking, Avery? I’ve seen that look before,” he said in a wary tone. “Are you wondering how you can copy this magical . . . ambience?”

  That word again. He never tired of teasing her about it, did he?

  “Oh, I could never even try,” she said truthfully. “You’ve got the funky fish house beat totally wrapped up.”

  He laughed. “Hope so. It’s been my life’s work . . . So how’s the lunch shift going?”

  “Pretty good. Business is up,” she reported. “And . . . we got a very nice review in the Cape Light Messenger last week. In case you didn’t see it, I have a few hundred copies lying around. I could give you one. And there will be a good review coming on the radio this weekend. WCLR. So set your dial.”

  “Sounds like the Peregrine is taking off. I’ll have to step up my game,” he said with a smile.

  Avery smiled back. He knew the Peregrine was still no threat to the Tuna, but it was nice of him to act as if it might be.

  Before she could reply, a little boy walked out of the kitchen. He was eating half a peanut butter sandwich and wore a thoughtful expression. A few years older than Emily, he looked like a miniature Mike. He wore a nylon surf shirt, swimming trunks, nose plugs dangling around his neck, and carried a boogie board. “Is Nana here yet?”

  “She’ll be here any minute. I want you to meet a friend of mine. This is Avery. She owns the café down the street. Avery, this is my son, Noah.” Mike gently held Noah’s shoulder, just in case he bolted, Avery thought.

  “Hello, Noah, nice to meet you.” Avery smiled and extended her hand. Noah reciprocated, hesitating to meet her eyes.

  “Hi,” he said simply. “Can I go outside and wait?” he asked his father.

  “Did you drink your milk?” Mike pinned him with a stern gaze.

  Noah nodded.

  “All right. But wash your hands when you finish that sandwich. And try to find your sister. She’s riding her scooter to California.” Mike rolled his eyes as Noah ran away. “He has his choice of thirty entrees, and all he really wants is peanut butter. I try not to take it personally.”

  Avery laughed. “Maybe it’s just a phase.”

  “I hope so. He didn’t inherit my appetite, that’s for sure. Not yet anyway.”

  “He looks like you. So does Emily,” she added.

  “Thanks. They can drive me crazy, but I couldn’t live without them. They’re my whole life.”

  Noah appeared again at the front of the restaurant, this time leading an older woman by the hand. Her short white hair framed her face in a stylish cut. She wore a beach cover-up over a bathing suit and carried a big canvas beach bag. She was probably in her mid-sixties, Avery guessed, but looked very fit and youthful, more than able to handle the two children.

  “Michael? We’re going now. I have Emily’s suit,” she added. “Oh, hello . . . I’m sorry to interrupt,” she added, suddenly noticing Avery.

  “Mom, this is Avery Bishop. She owns the Café Peregrine, down the street. Avery, this is my mother, Victoria Rossi.”

  Avery waved. “Nice to meet you. Great day for the beach,” she added, trying to make conversation.

  “A perfect day. Too bad the two of you can’t join us. You restaurant owners are a pale-looking group. I’m sure that you’re both low on Vitamin D. But I do love your restaurant, Avery. I’ve peeked inside a few times. It’s very pretty. I’m going to eat there very soon.”

  “Anytime,” Avery offered.

  “Good, don’t tell Mike,” she added, though he was standing right there.

  “It’s all right, Mother. You’ll like the food. Better than mine.”

  Victoria laughed. “Have a good day. Time to get buried in the sand. If you don’t hear from me in a few hours, come down with a shovel,” she told her son as Noah led her away.

  “They don’t really bury her. My mom likes to joke around . . . Well, maybe just her feet. Up to her knees or so.”

  Now he was joking with Avery.

  “Seems like it’s a family trait. Joking around, I mean.”

  “My dad was the all-time champ. I’ve inherited it from both sides.”

  “Not a bad thing,” she said, thinking his humor was one of the qualities she liked best about him.

  “Some people might disagree, but I’m glad to hear you like my jokes,” he added.

  He smiled and met her gaze. It suddenly seemed as if time stopped and everything around them just melted away. Avery felt . . . mesmerized.

  Then his phone rang, breaking the spell. “Sorry, got to grab this,” he murmured. “I have another tour group coming in tomorrow. If there’s any overflow, I’ll send them your way.”

  “Thanks, I appreciate that. This time I’ll be ready.”

  She waved and left Mike to take care of his business.

  As she headed back to the café, she felt light and happy.

  Venturing down to the Tuna had been a big step. She had to admit now that she had felt anxious about it. Intimidated, really. But she was glad that she finally had visited and glad she had seen Mike and met his family.

  Maybe today had been the right time to go there. Maybe going there earlier, when she had been so unsure about the Peregrine succeeding, would have been too daunting. But today she had been ready to see and appreciate Mike’s restaurant for what it was—a one-of-a-kind and totally fun classic. No wonder it had su
ch a loyal following. There was certainly room for more than one restaurant on Ferry Street. She was ready to see that, too. Maybe she was even more ready for a relationship than she had thought.

  Avery was soon busy with the lunch rush. She realized she didn’t even need the overflow from the Tuna anymore. Her café had plenty of customers of their own. Finally.

  Afterward, as she helped Gena and Brittany clean up the dining room, Gena gently poked her. She didn’t say anything but urged Avery to follow her glance out to the street.

  Avery did and saw Mike passing by with Cindy, the friendly woman from the Pilgrim Tours. They were too busy talking to take notice of Avery. Mike laughed and Cindy slipped her arm through his as they walked by, perfectly in step with each other.

  Avery felt the blood rush to her face but couldn’t say a word. Had Mike’s interest suddenly turned to the Pilgrim Tour guide? Has he just been flirting with me all this time, when it didn’t mean anything to him?

  Avery turned to Gena, struggling to hide her dismay. “That’s the woman from the tour company. They’re just friends,” she said quickly.

  Gena shrugged. “Whatever you say. He sure has a lot of friends.” Avery heard the words Gena didn’t say. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.

  Avery felt a dull ache in her chest. She had assumed Mike was sending his children to the beach with their grandmother so he could work. Was it really so he was free to see Cindy?

  Maybe it’s a business meeting, to talk about the tour groups that come to the Tuna, she told herself.

  Right. There was so much to talk about. Fries or baked potatoes with the entree? Coleslaw or pickle chips? Avery wasn’t sure what had come over her, but she was suddenly and totally insanely jealous. Why did Cindy from Pilgrim Tours get to spend the afternoon with Mike, strolling around the boardwalk, talking and laughing and doing who knows what else . . . and she did not?

  Maybe I should have reminded him about my rain check on that sailing date, she thought suddenly. Maybe he thinks I’m not really interested in him that way. She could hardly blame him. She’d been practically radiating Not ready, need to work on my business vibes ever since they met.

  Have I fallen for the Lazy Tuna guy? And I waited so long he’s given up?

  Avery didn’t like the idea of that at all. The good reviews, the uptick in business, and the sense that the café was finally catching on—that was all long-awaited good news. But it suddenly seemed cold comfort if it had come at the cost of missing her chance for a real relationship with Mike.

  * * *

  BY the time the weekend rolled around, more great reviews for the Café Peregrine rolled in with it. A review on the local radio station was repeated almost hourly and another that Avery didn’t expect popped up in the weekend issue of What’s Happening in Cape Light?

  Teresa was the first to spot it and read the article aloud to the staff as they sat together on Friday afternoon, enjoying Avery’s seafood bisque. “‘If you’re looking for innovative cuisine, reasonable prices, and ocean-side ambience, try the Café Peregrine on Angel Island. A newcomer to Ferry Street this season . . . ’”

  “Wait . . . did you just say ‘ambience’?” Avery asked.

  “Right. Ambience. It means . . .”

  “Oh, I know what it means. It’s just a little joke.”

  While the rest of the staff clapped loudly and even gave a few catcalls of approval, Avery thought of Mike and their silly joke. She would take real pleasure showing him this one, maybe even highlighting the word in contention—that is, if he wasn’t otherwise occupied with Cindy.

  “Let’s frame this and put it up near the other. We’ll have a whole wall full before the summer is over,” Gena predicted.

  A while later, sitting at the tiny desk that was crammed in a kitchen corner, Avery decided to call her family to share the good news. She tried her sister first and found her still working at her office.

  “I haven’t heard from you for a while. Is everything all right?” Christine asked.

  Avery hated to think it, but had a feeling Christine expected her to say, “Everything is terrible. I’m going to take your advice and give up.”

  Instead she was able to report all the good news. “. . . And this weekend we had a rave on the radio and another one in print. I’m going to send you a copy.”

  “That’s terrific. It was a good idea to serve lunch. I just hope it’s not too hectic for you. I hope you’re not exhausted by the end of the summer.”

  Avery thought back to the night her family had dined at the café, and cringed. Christine must think the place looked like a sitcom every night, but there was no convincing her things were under control.

  “I hired a great new waitress and everything’s going very smoothly. There are just three more weekends until Labor Day,” Avery noticed, glancing at the calendar. “We’re going to coast into the finish line.” It wasn’t just hopeful optimism either. She knew this was true.

  “That’s great news, Avery. I can’t wait to tell Mom. It’s really strange that you called today to tell me this. I ran into Paul just this morning. He told me that the Tulip Café closed. He’s very broken up about it.”

  Avery was surprised at the news and at her reaction. It was like hearing about the passing of an old friend. Though she was sure Paul was more broken up about the restaurant failing than he had been about their broken engagement.

  “The Tulip closed? It was doing so well when I left. Did Paul tell you why?”

  “He didn’t say much. Personally, I think the food went way downhill after you left the kitchen. I would have liked to hear him admit that, considering what he put you through. I told him about your new place . . . and how well you were doing,” she added. “I guess I did embellish a little. But now it seems your café has lived up to my description.”

  At least her sister was honest.

  “I guess so,” Avery said vaguely. News about her ex-fiancé was distracting. Once she would have been secretly pleased to hear that he was getting his comeuppance for dumping her. But she didn’t feel that way at all now. She felt sorry for him, in a distant, unattached way.

  “It’s hard to say why a restaurant fails. There are any number of reasons,” Avery offered, trying to be fair. “I don’t think about Paul much anymore,” she said honestly, “but I’m not happy to hear he’s lost his business.”

  “He’s the type who always bounces back. Don’t worry, he’ll talk someone else into putting him in business again,” Christine predicted.

  Avery thought that was probably true. Paul was a smooth talker, who could be very persuasive when he wanted to be.

  They talked for a few minutes more, and Avery promised to send the new review promptly.

  “I’m really happy things are going well for you, Avery,” her sister said. “I know I sounded a bit negative when we were visiting. I’m sorry about that. I was just worried about Mom. But it seems like everything is working out.”

  “It is,” Avery said. It felt good to hear her sister say that. Christine’s approval meant more to her than she wanted to admit.

  * * *

  THE inn was too crowded on Sunday morning for Claire to slip off to church. Reverend Ben was on vacation this week, and one of the deacons was running the service. She enjoyed these guest speakers, but their sermons rarely came close to the reverend’s.

  She had been up since half past six, along with Liza and Jamie, who worked together to set out the breakfast buffet and set the tables out on the porch and patio, along with the long table in the dining room.

  Guests began to come down around seven and took coffee back to their rooms or out on the porch, where Liza had several copies of the Sunday newspapers available. The food was not served until eight sharp. Then they all appeared and swarmed around the buffet tables, like humming bees drawn to sweet flowers in the garden. />
  Claire stayed at the stove while Jamie and Liza ran from one end of the inn to the other, refilling the platters and coffee urns and clearing the used place settings away.

  Most of the guests began checking out at eleven. Claire looked forward to a quiet day after that. She hoped to take a walk on the beach or show Jamie the stone labyrinth that sat in a high flat meadow a short distance from the cliffs. She hadn’t been there for a long time and thought he might enjoy walking it, considering all the big questions he faced in his life right now.

  She had just gotten the kitchen under control and was wiping down the countertops, when she heard rising voices in the hallway. It was mainly a man’s voice, sounding very upset. She stepped outside the kitchen to see what was going on.

  She recognized Mr. Rapp, one of her favorite guests, who was back with his wife for the second time this summer. Their bags were neatly piled by the door, and Mrs. Rapp stood nearby, dressed for the car ride and wearing a worried expression.

  “Please don’t tell me to calm down. It was a Cartier chronograph, worth a small fortune. My wife gave it to me for our fiftieth anniversary . . . It was right on my bedside table last night when I went to sleep. And now it’s gone.”

  “I’m very sorry for your distress,” Liza said sincerely. “But I think we can find it. If you’ll let me go up and look around the room, I’ll pull it apart from top to bottom. Jamie will help me move the furniture.”

  Liza looked around for Jamie. He was just coming down the stairs, loaded down with suitcases.

  “He’s going to help? He’s the one who stole it,” Mr. Rapp nearly shouted. He pointed at Jamie, his pale face turned a frightening shade of red.

  Chapter Fourteen

  JAMIE stared at everyone in confusion. “Stole what? . . . What are you talking about?”

  Liza looked alarmed and upset. “I don’t think it’s right to accuse someone on my staff of stealing your property, Mr. Rapp. Maybe you misplaced it. Or maybe it was left somewhere you haven’t looked yet—in a pocket or caught between the bed linens. Believe me, it happens all the time,” she assured him.