Summer Dance

by Nan Rossiter

  Tearfully, I reached into my pocket for some smooth stones and sea glass I’d picked up on the beach the last time I’d walked along the water. Then I held them in my palm before neatly arranging them on top of their headstones, pausing to lightly trace each name. “Love you all,” I whispered softly. “Thank you for everything, Dad.”

  Chapter 17

  Abe was up to his elbows in muffin batter when I walked in—just in time for the Labor Day rush. “Thank goodness!” he said. “It’s been crazy around here. Everyone keeps asking when you’re coming back—they actually think your muffins are better than mine! Can you believe that?” He gave me a hug. “How’d it go? And more importantly, how’re you doing?” he asked, searching my eyes.

  “I’m okay,” I said. “I still can’t believe he’s gone.”

  Abe nodded. “You’re going to feel that way for a while.” He hugged me again and then reached for the spatula to resume stirring. “Were you able to tie up all the loose ends?”

  “For the most part. My dad’s attorney is going to sell the house and settle the estate.” I reached into my pocket. “Here’s the money you lent me,” I said, pulling out two hundred-dollar bills.

  “I didn’t lend it to you—I gave it to you. Keep it.”

  I shook my head. “I want to pay you back, Abe.”

  “Are you sure?” he asked, eyeing me.

  “I’m positive,” I said. “In fact, if you ever think you might like to take up fishing full time, I’d probably be able to buy this place from you with all the money my dad had socked away—literally.”

  “Wow! I’ll keep that in mind,” he said. “You must’ve had a good dad.”

  “I did have a good dad. I just wish I’d been a better daughter.”

  He frowned. “I’m sure you were a wonderful daughter.”

  I nodded, although I wasn’t convinced. “Want me to take over?” I asked, motioning to the bowl.

  “I’d love it if you took over,” he said, handing me the spatula. “By the way, your not-so-secret admirer has been in here every day asking if I’ve heard from you.”

  “Coop?”

  Abe nodded.

  I smiled and shook my head.

  “How come you won’t go out with him?”

  I sighed. “It’s a long story.”

  “Yeah?” he said, eyeing me, and for a brief second, I was tempted to explain, but I bit my tongue.

  “Everyone has a story, Sal. If you ever want to talk, I’m here.”

  “Thanks,” I said, stirring the batter.

  He looked at the clock. “Guess I better put the coffee on—if you-know-who finds out you’re back, he’ll be here first thing.”

  I laughed as I scooped blueberry muffin batter into the waiting pans, and after I slid them into the oven, went to get a cup of coffee. I stirred in a generous amount of cream and took a sip. “Mmm, I missed this place,” I murmured, looking around at the familiar wooden walls decorated with retro metal signs that advertised all kinds of coffee and baked goods. Abe certainly had a knack for decorating, but if I ever owned it, I’d add seating—there was plenty of room for a few tables and chairs— and I’d expand the menu to include sandwiches. I’d probably change the name, too—Nantucket Bread and Baked Goods was a little ho-hum.

  Abe unlocked the door and I looked up from sliding freshly baked loaves of bread into bags. “Did you ever think of adding sandwiches to the menu?”

  “I can barely keep up with what we have. Besides, I like to keep things simple.”

  “I like things simple, too, but if you hired another person and added some sandwiches—even just breakfast sandwiches like bacon, egg, and cheese on a hard roll—you’d make a fortune.”

  He chuckled. “That doesn’t sound simple to me. Besides, I’m not in it for the money.” Then he looked up and smiled. “When you buy it, you can change it.”

  “I might,” I said. “I’d have to come up with a new name, though.”

  “What?!” he asked incredulously. “It took me forever to come up with Where the Dough Always Rises. I can’t possibly sell it to you if you’re going to change the name.”

  “I’d keep that part,” I said, laughing. “And I’d keep the tradition of sending free loaves of bread to the Cape too.”

  “Okay, I might sell it to you then,” he said with a grin.

  July

  “Da . . . I mean, Cap,” Aidan called. “How’s this look?”

  Liam glanced up from sanding the newly replaced bottom of the 1955 Chris Craft Barrel Back he’d found in the classified section of WoodenBoat magazine. The ad had said, “Needs work,” but after driving all the way to Maine, Liam realized it should’ve said: “Needs complete restoration!” Liam had never backed away from a challenge, though, and in his mind’s eye he could see the finished boat glistening in the sunlight, so he paid cash, loaded her onto his trailer, and drove all the way back to Hyannis, where he arranged—because she wasn’t seaworthy—to have her transported to Nantucket.

  Now, as he looked over at the spot Aidan had been sanding, he nodded approvingly. “Looks great.” He watched him resume sanding, and smiled. It was the third time this week Aidan had almost called him Dad. He didn’t mind being called Cap, but he wouldn’t mind being called Dad either. After all, he’d come to think of Aidan as his son, and it would be nice to know he felt the same way. He had a feeling that whenever Aidan—who adored his older half brother and loved to emulate him—heard Levi call him Dad, he felt drawn to use the same moniker.

  Liam recalled how hard it had been when he, at Aidan’s age, had been adjusting to living with Coop, and looking back, he wondered if his uncle would’ve liked being called Dad, but then he decided that their situation had been different. Liam had known—and loved—his own dad, while Aidan had never known his real father, so he couldn’t possibly feel the same way about him.

  Liam refolded the worn sandpaper around the block of wood he was using and started sanding again. Just as he did, he heard Tuck bark. He looked up and saw him scramble to his feet and bound out of the boathouse. A moment later, Tuck and another golden retriever raced past the open boathouse doors, jumping and playing.

  “Boomer’s here!” Aidan shouted, dropping his sanding block and racing outside. “Hey, Boom!” he called, and the big golden, who looked just like Tuck, almost bowled him over in greeting.

  “Hi, Aid,” Olivia—who was Aidan’s age—and T. J.—her twelve-year-old brother—called, trotting up to him.

  “Hi!” Aidan said, grinning. “What are you doing here?”

  “Don’t you remember?” Tracey—their mom—said, smiling and ruffling his hair. “Liv, T. J., and Boomer are staying with you for a couple of days.”

  “Oh! I forgot!” Aidan said, then turned to the boathouse. “Ca-ap! Tracey’s he-ere!”

  Liam appeared in the doorway and Tracey—who was an old classmate and friend . . . and daughter of Dimitri—smiled.

  “Hey,” she said, walking up to him.

  “Hey,” Liam said, kissing the top of her head.

  She held up a paper bag and cardboard tray holding two coffee cups. “I brought lunch.”

  “All right!” Liam said with a slow smile. “I was wondering what we were going to have.”

  “I wasn’t sure if you would’ve eaten. Don’t you usually bring lunch?”

  “We do, but we were out of bread this morning, and you know how much I love food shopping.”

  “Yeah, you only go when you’re out of beer,” she teased.

  “That’s how it used to be,” he said, laughing. “Now I have to go if we’re out of milk.” He peered in the bag. “So, what’d you bring? I’m starving.”

  “Chicken salad wraps for us, tuna for the boys, and PB and J for Olivia. Please tell me Aidan likes tuna.”

  “He loves it—especially the way Sally makes it—with thyme and lemon juice.”

  “Good,” Tracey said, looking relieved. “I also brought some of her blueberry muffins.”

 
Liam grinned. “One of the many perks of working at Cuppa Jo—access to an endless supply of Sally’s famous blueberry muffins.”

  “I don’t know if it’s a perk,” Tracey said, patting her belly. “I’ve gained ten pounds since I started working there again.”

  “Well, you don’t look it,” Liam said, putting his arm around her.

  They sat down at the shady picnic table next to the boathouse and Tracey handed him the coffee cup with the letter L scrawled on the lid. Liam frowned. “L?”

  “Mm-hmm,” Tracey said, taking a sip of her creamy sweet coffee. “For Liam.”

  “Oh,” he said, laughing and taking a sip. “Mmm, this hits the spot,” he added, looking up at her sparkling green eyes. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” she said, tucking her wavy salt and pepper hair behind her ears. “It’s the least I can do since you’re going to be watching my tribe for the next few days.”

  “Not a problem,” Liam assured her as he watched Aidan skip stones with Olivia and T. J. “They’re thick as thieves and they entertain each other—it makes life easier.”

  “Well, you’d think Jack would want to spend time with them, but he’s become the epitome of a deadbeat dad,” Tracey said, adding, “He’s so caught up in his new life with his new family, it’s as if T. J. and Olivia don’t exist . . . and I know they feel hurt—T. J. especially. He tries not to show it, but I can tell, especially when he has a ballgame and all the other boys’ dads are there, cheering. I can see it in his eyes.”

  Liam shook his head, picturing his childhood friend Jack, who was also Tracey’s ex-husband. “We’d be happy to come to some of T. J.’s games. It won’t be the same as having his real dad there, but I know all about growing up without my dad, and so does Aidan.”

  “That would be great,” Tracey said, pulling all the sandwiches out of the bag. “Baseball’s over for this year, but maybe in the fall, when soccer starts.”

  “Okay,” Liam said. “I want to sign Aidan up for soccer too. Is Liv gonna play?”

  “She is! Maybe we can get them on the same team.”

  “That would be perfect,” Liam teased. “Then you can take them to all the practices.”

  “Ha!” she said, laughing. “Or you can!”

  Liam smiled and shook his head. “If you ever need help juggling their schedules, don’t hesitate to call.”

  “Do I ever hesitate?” she asked, handing him his sandwich.

  “When’s your flight?”

  “Eight forty-five in the morning,” she said, glancing at her phone. “I’m staying at the airport tonight.”

  “How’s your dad doing?”

  “Not so good. My sister said he’s really weak and he doesn’t even try to get up. She thinks he’s giving up—he misses my mom . . . and he doesn’t have Coop; he misses Nantucket and he hates Florida.” She sighed and shook her head. “Getting old is no fun.”

  “That’s for sure. How old is he?”

  “Eighty-one, but he looks like he’s ninety-one! He’s spent way too much time in the sun.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want the kids to see him?”

  “I was going to bring them, but my sister thought it would be better if they just remembered him as he was—a strong, sturdy troublemaker rather than a bedridden old man.”

  Liam nodded. “Yeah, Coop was lucky to go the way he did—even though it was too soon. A heart attack is quick and to the point; none of this lingering nonsense, making life hard for everyone. That’s how I want to go.”

  “Me too,” Tracey said with a wistful smile. “Oh, I keep meaning to ask you if you finished Sally’s book.”

  “Not yet, but it’s really good. It’s in my truck if you want to take it with you. You’re in it, you know—although I haven’t gotten to that part yet.”

  “So I’ve heard,” she said, laughing. “Are you sure you can part with it for a few days?”

  Liam nodded. “I doubt I’m going to have time to read with the three musketeers around—not to mention two happy-go-lucky goldens.”

  “Well, if you’re sure you don’t mind, I’d love to read it. I meant to bring a book and I forgot.”

  “I’ll get it before you go.”

  “Sounds good.” She looked over to where the kids were playing. “C’mon, guys! Time for lunch!”

  The kids skipped their last stones and ran up to the picnic table with Tuck and Boomer at their heels.

  Twenty minutes later, Tracey gave each of the dogs a tidbit, scooped up all the paper plates and potato chip bags, crunched them into a ball, and tossed it at the garbage can, but it bumped the rim and fell off the side to the ground.

  “Oh, epic fail!” T. J. said.

  “Boy, you’ve really lost your touch,” Liam teased with a grin, remembering all the years Tracey had been the star forward on the girls’ basketball team when they were in high school.

  Tracey smiled sheepishly and reached down to pick it up. “Oh, well, I guess I have . . . but I can still slam-dunk it!” she added with a grin, slamming it straight into the can.

  “All right, Mom!” Olivia cheered supportively.

  “Cap, can we put the old basketball hoop up that’s leaning against the back of the boathouse?” Aidan asked hopefully.

  “We don’t have a basketball,” Liam said, trying to quickly quash the idea.

  “We have a basketball,” T. J. piped. “We just have to stop by our house. . . .”

  “Or we could buy one,” Aidan pressed.

  “I’ll treat to a new basketball,” Tracey said, reaching into her bag for her wallet. “Then I can remind your dad—I mean, Cap—how it’s done when I get back.”

  “Put your money away,” Liam said, eyeing her. “And that sounds like a challenge . . . so I hope you’re ready.”

  “I was born ready,” Tracey teased defiantly.

  “Yeah!”

  “The challenge is on!” T. J. said, cheering, and Aidan and Olivia, realizing the hoop would definitely be going up, cheered too.

  “Isn’t it time for you to get going?” Liam said, realizing he’d just been duped.

  Tracey looked at her phone. “Yes, it is,” she confirmed. She picked up her coffee cup, slung her bag over her shoulder, and started to walk toward her car. “Come get your stuff, guys,” she called.

  T. J. and Olivia trotted after her and began pulling their sleeping bags and backpacks out of the trunk and throwing them into the back of Liam’s pickup truck.

  “Here’s the blueberry muffins,” Tracey said, handing Liam a large waxed paper bag.

  “All right!” he said, peering into it. “I might just have to have one of these bad boys right now.”

  “Aren’t you full from lunch?”

  “I always have room for dessert,” he said, grinning. He lifted one out, took a bite, closed the bag, and stepped over to put it in his truck. “Oh, here’s the book!” he said, reminded when he saw it on the seat.

  “Great,” Tracey said. “Thank you so much—for everything.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  She turned to the kids and gave them each a hug—including Aidan. “Be good . . . and try to be helpful,” she admonished, eyeing T. J. in particular.

  “We will, Mom,” they promised in unison.

  “Say hi to Grampa,” T. J. added, and Olivia nodded.

  “I will.” She kissed the tops of their heads. “Love you!”

  “Love you too,” they said. Then they turned and ran back down to the water to skip stones.

  Tracey turned to Liam. “Thank you so much for doing this,” she said.

  “No problem,” he said, pulling her into his arms. “I’m happy to do it. Have a safe trip and say hi to your dad for me too,” he added softly, kissing the top of her head.

  “I will,” she said, tears suddenly welling up in her eyes.

  “And stay as long as you need to. We’ll be fine.” He lifted her chin, saw her tears, and gently brushed them away with his thumbs. “Everything’s goi
ng to be okay.”

  Tracey nodded. “I know.”

  Liam searched her eyes. “I hope you know this, too . . . I love you.”

  Tracey mustered a smile. “I love you too.”

  Liam leaned down and kissed her softly on the lips.

  “Mmm, I remember that from a long time ago,” she whispered.

  “You mean the time on the beach when you got me drunk and seduced me?”

  “I think it was the other way around,” she teased.

  “Well, maybe when you get back, I’ll let you seduce me again.”

  “I’d like that,” Tracey said. Then she looked at her watch. “I wish I could stay.”

  Liam nodded. “No, you better go or you’ll miss the early ferry and then you’ll hit all kinds of traffic.”

  Tracey looked down at the book. “Thanks for the book—I have a feeling it’s just what I need.”

  He nodded and let go of her hand. “Have a safe trip and keep in touch.”

  “I will,” she said as she climbed into her car and started it. Then she backed up and looked in her rearview mirror, and through the blur of her tears, she saw all three kids standing with Liam, waving while both dogs barked. “Bye, Mom! Love you!”

  “Love you too!” she called, waving back.

  As she pulled out of the boathouse parking lot, she took a sip of her coffee and glanced down at Sally’s book on her passenger seat. She couldn’t wait to read it and hoped it would help take her mind off everything that was going on in her life.

  By the time she boarded the plane the next morning, she was already on chapter eighteen, and as soon as she stored her carry-on and sat down, she opened it back up to part three and started reading again.

  PART III

  For I do not do the good I want to do . . .

  —Romans 7:19

  Chapter 18

  “What a great car,” Coop said as he walked around my dad’s old turquoise Bel Air.

  “Want to buy it?” I asked as I swept leaves off the front steps of the bakery.