The Seaside Café Page 4

  “They were selling it for more than I was willing to pay because it needed a lot of work,” Graeme admitted. “After a lot of back-and-forth negotiating, we were able to agree on a price, and the first thing I did was contact an architect and have him draw up plans to open up the interior.”

  Shifting on the bench, Kayana turned to give him a direct stare. “Do you plan to live here permanently?”

  “Probably not until I retire.”

  She knew that would not be for a while, because Graeme didn’t appear old enough to retire. Kayana estimated him to be in his late forties or early fifties. She’d also noticed he appeared to be in good physical shape and didn’t have the paunch that occasionally afflicted middle-aged men who’d let themselves go.

  “You will certainly become an anomaly. The only folks who retire on Coates Island live here year-round.”

  “Why do you make that sound like a bad thing?” Graeme asked.

  “Quite the contrary. I grew up here and had an incredible childhood. Everyone knew one another, and parents looked out for each other’s children. The kids who lived on the mainland were jealous of us because we had the beach as our playground and the ocean was our swimming pool. The only thing they had that we didn’t was a movie theater. But during the summer months, everyone was treated to Friday night movies in the town square, and the tradition continues to this day.”

  “Do you still go to the Friday night movies?”

  Kayana shook her head. She’d seen most of the family-oriented movies, and if she’d wanted to see other than a PG or PG-13, then she would drive to the theater on the mainland. “Not any longer.”

  “What do you do during your downtime?”

  “Read.” She was hard-pressed not to laugh in Graeme’s face when his jaw dropped.

  “Are you saying you spend time reading when you’re not working?”

  A shiver of annoyance washed over her, and Kayana struggled not to unload on him. He was no different than James, who’d taunted her relentlessly whenever she settled down to read. When he wasn’t at the hospital or on call, he couldn’t just relax and enjoy their time together. And if he did stay home, he had to have hordes of people around.

  “Would you have been less shocked if I told you I spend my free time smoking weed?” Kayana knew she’d struck a nerve with Graeme when a rush of color suffused his pale face. Within seconds, she regretted lashing out at him, but it was too late to retract the acerbic retort. “I’m sorry. I should not have said that,” she said, apologizing.

  * * *

  The seconds ticked by as Graeme stared at Kayana. Not only was he shocked by her comeback; he was also puzzled why she would even mention smoking marijuana. Was she being defensive because she’d had or someone close to her had had a drug problem? He’d believed his query was innocent enough for her not to come at him as if he’d openly insulted her. His first impulse was to get up and walk away, but he decided against it.

  Graeme knew very little about Kayana Johnson other than she was part owner of the Seaside Café and that she was divorced. The latter he had uncovered when the chatty real estate agent handling the sale of the bungalow offered an overview of the permanent residents on the island. He’d been tempted to delve further into her background, then decided he preferred uncovering things about her on his own. After all, he had planned to live on the island and therefore would get to see her in his daily comings and goings. He’d told her that he’d intended to live on Coates Island once he retired, but in reality, he’d recently retired from teaching after twenty years to concentrate on his second career as a writer.

  And at the age of fifty-two, he could realistically write for another twenty years before settling down to read every book in the extensive collection he’d amassed during his lifetime. First editions of classic and rare-edition books and music recordings were housed in his library in Newburyport, and Graeme knew if he were to transport even half the collection to North Carolina, it would take up every square foot of the bungalow and force him to sleep on a blow-up mattress in the corner of the bedroom. As a young boy, he’d thought of his parents as hoarders because of the number of books they’d bring home after scouring bookstores that sold out-of-print titles. Then there were the auctions and estate sales, where they’d paid what he’d believed were excessive amounts of money for musty-smelling autographed first editions and vinyl recordings. It wasn’t until after they’d passed away and he went through their legal documents that he realized that the value of their book and record collection was appraised at more than seven figures.

  “There’s no need for you to apologize. I had no right to question you about what you do in your spare time.” Lowering her eyes, Kayana flashed what passed for a demure smile. The gesture was so innocent, so charming that he found himself holding his breath.

  “I’m addicted to books,” she admitted.

  Throwing back his head, Graeme laughed loudly. “You have a partner in crime, because I too am addicted to books.”

  “What do you read?”

  He smiled. “Everything. However, I am partial to legal thrillers and books written by Clancy, Patterson, and Baldacci.”

  Her eyebrows lifted questioningly. “You only read male authors?”

  “No. I occasionally will read a female author.”

  “Name one, Graeme.”

  “Octavia Butler.”

  A soft gasp escaped Kayana. “I love her writing. But it’s been a while since I’ve read her.”

  Graeme saw excitement light up Kayana’s eyes. It had been years since he’d met a woman who liked books as much as he did. “I’ve read everything she’s written. I wasn’t much of a science fiction reader until I read Kindred, and then I was hooked.”

  “I haven’t read all of her work, but Clay’s Ark really affected me. I had recurring dreams about women who gave birth to mutant, sphinxlike children after they’d contracted a microorganism brought back to Earth by the one surviving astronaut of the spaceship Clay’s Ark.”

  “She was truly a genius.”

  “I think I’m going to recommend reading one of her titles.”

  Graeme listened intently as Kayana told him about a meeting with a vacationer later that evening to talk about forming a book club. Watching her reminded him of images of young kids opening presents on Christmas morning. “I believe I saw a copy of Kindred when I was looking through the science fiction section.”

  Kayana stood. “I think I’m going to buy it.”

  Graeme rose with her. “Don’t you want to check first to see if you can download it electronically?”

  “No. I much prefer holding the physical copy to reading it on an electronic device.”

  He smiled. “I feel the same way.”

  “It looks as if we have a few things in common,” Kayana said, as she gathered her belongings.

  “When it comes to books, I’d say we have a lot in common. Maybe one of these days we can get together and discuss the books we’ve read.”

  A beat passed. “Would you like to join our book club discussion?” Kayana asked.

  Although Graeme found the invitation very tempting, he knew reading books and having to discuss them would take away the time he needed to complete a manuscript and submit it the second week in September. As it was, he was behind schedule and needed to catch up in order to make the deadline. “Thank you for the invite. It’s very tempting, but I’m going to have to pass. Maybe next summer.”

  “I’m going to hold you to that. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to buy Kindred and begin reading it before I meet with my book club buddy later on tonight.”

  “How are you getting back?” Graeme asked.

  Kayana smiled at him over her shoulder. “I’ll either walk or take a jitney.”

  “Don’t bother. I’ll drive you back.”

  “You don’t have to—”

  “I insist, Kayana,” he interrupted. “It’s much too hot to walk or stand out waiting for a jitney.” If driving her back
to the restaurant meant spending more time with her, then Graeme was more than willing to do it. After dropping her off, he would return to the bookstore to look through the out-of-print titles.

  She smiled. “Okay.”

  * * *

  Kayana discovered the bookstore had several of Octavia Butler’s titles, and she decided to purchase Parable of the Sower, Parable of the Talents, and Kindred. A shiver of excitement eddied through her when she anticipated a reading marathon. It had always been that way with her when she discovered a writer’s work she really liked. She looked for everything they’d written and literally lost herself in the world they’d created, shutting out anyone and everything around her. She was aware that some people became avid readers for entertainment or escape, but for Kayana, it was both. She retreated into books whenever she sought to escape her parents’ incessant arguing. The arguments finally stopped once they were divorced, but for her, the die had been cast. She’d become an avid reader.

  Kayana set the books on the counter and then reached into her tote for her wallet. “I’m going to take these.”

  The owner of the bookstore smiled, exhibiting a mouth filled with teeth stained by years of smoking cigars and chewing tobacco. The slightly eccentric man wore a ski cap year-round despite the temperature, and Kayana wondered if he had any hair. Lenny Davies and his retired librarian wife had bought the bookstore from the former owner more than twenty years ago; they had updated the interior, and she’d scanned all of the books electronically.

  “I reckon you’re starting your summer reading.”

  “Yes, I am, Mr. Davies.” She noticed slight trembling in his right hand when he picked up the books to scan the bar codes and suspected he might have Parkinson’s. Living with a doctor and working in a hospital had afforded her a front-row seat to the challenges faced by the many patients who came through the doors.

  “You picked some good ones.”

  Kayana wanted to tell the man that she probably wouldn’t have chosen Octavia Butler if Graeme hadn’t recommended the science fiction writer, because she tended to favor the classics. It had been a while since she’d read Henry James, Dumas, Richard Ellison, Edith Wharton, Jane Austen, and James Baldwin. She’d kept up with the best-seller lists and read those that appealed to her. Although not partial to biographies, she did read and enjoy Michelle Obama’s Becoming.

  “I’m looking forward to enjoying them,” she said, handing Mr. Davies her credit card.

  “I didn’t read much before the missus and I bought this place, but now I’m like that character in that Twilight Zone episode who was addicted to reading. He hid out in the bank vault to read and didn’t know that an atomic bomb had exploded that left him last person alive on earth. He couldn’t believe his good luck because there was nothing to stop him from indulging in his addiction.”

  Totally intrigued by the tale, Kayana asked, “What happened?”

  “His glasses fell off, and he stepped on them and shattered the lenses.”

  “Are you saying he needed glasses to read?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh, how awful.”

  Mr. Davies shook his head. “It was the saddest episode I ever saw.”

  Kayana wanted to tell him that she rarely watched television because she didn’t have the patience to become that involved in a program to commit to watching it week after week. But once she opened a book and found herself engaged in the first few pages, she became a part of the characters’ lives.

  “It had to be devastating for him.” Kayana could not imagine anything that would keep her from reading. She signed the receipt and put the bag with her purchases into the tote. “I’ll probably see you again before the end of the summer.”

  “If there’s any book you want, just call me and I’ll order it for you.”

  “Thank you.” Kayana put on her hat and sunglasses, and walked out of the bookstore, nearly colliding with Graeme. His hands went to her shoulders to keep her from losing her balance. For an instant, she felt the strength in his fingers as he tightened his grip on her bare skin. “I’m sorry. I didn’t see you standing there.”

  Graeme dropped his hands and reached for the tote and shopping bag. “I decided to wait outside because Mr. Davies tends to be a little long-winded. By the way, I’m parked around the corner.”

  Kayana smiled and nodded. “It appears as if you’re getting to know a little something about the locals.”

  “They regard me as an outsider, and most are suspicious as to why I’ve chosen to move here.”

  Kayana walked with him to the parking lot, skirting people standing around in small groups as they waited for the next jitney. “It’s going to be a while before they consider you an islander.” Graeme stopped next to a silver Range Rover, opened the passenger-side door, and waited until she was seated before handing her the tote.

  “I’ll put your shopping bag in the back.”

  She smiled at him. “Thank you.” She was grateful that Graeme had offered to drive her back because the heat had intensified and her tote was considerably heavier because of the books.

  Graeme punched the car’s START engine button. “Where do you live?”

  Kayana turned to look at him. “You can drop me off at the restaurant.”

  “The restaurant?”

  “Yes. I live in an apartment above the restaurant.”

  “I thought you grew up here.”

  “I did. But after I graduated college, I moved to Atlanta and lived there for twenty years. I moved back a couple of years ago.”

  * * *

  Graeme shifted into REVERSE and backed out of the space. “I thought you’d always lived here.”

  “That’s a very long story,” she said.

  “Too long for a short drive?”

  “Yes.”

  It would take Graeme less than three minutes to drive from the business district to the Café. The ride ended quickly as he maneuvered into the lot behind the restaurant and parked without shutting off the engine.

  Graeme placed a hand on her arm. “Don’t move. I’ll help you down.”

  Kayana unbuckled the seat belt and waited from him to get out and come around to assist her. He opened the door, and she placed her hands on his shoulders as his fingers tightened around her waist. She had to admit that the Range Rover was higher than her SUV. And the last thing she wanted was to step down awkwardly and sprain her ankle—an unfortunate incident she’d experienced in the past.

  Graeme held her aloft for several seconds before slowly lowering her until her feet touched the ground. She looked at him through the lenses of her sunglasses. There was a hint of a smile touching the corners of his mouth.

  “Thank you for the ride,” she said when he opened the rear door and handed her the shopping bag.

  He winked at her. “Anytime.”

  Kayana turned and walked to the back door leading into the restaurant, aware that Graeme hadn’t moved to get into his vehicle. She unlocked the door and then disarmed the security system. It was only when she’d closed and locked the door behind her that she heard him driving away.

  She mounted the staircase leading to the apartment, recalling the short time she’d spent with Graeme Ogden. She did enjoy talking with him about books and authors. But at no time had he appeared to come on to her, which had put her totally at ease with him. And Kayana liked listening to him because of the distinctive New England inflection in some of his words.

  “He’s nice,” she whispered under her breath.

  Kayana entered the living room and set her tote and shopping bag on a low table. The clock on the fireplace mantle chimed the hour. It was five, and she’d told Leah to meet her on the patio any time after six. An hour was enough time for her to change into something more comfortable and put up a load of laundry before her book club partner arrived.

  Chapter 4

  Kayana set platters of different types of cheese, seedless grapes, sliced strawberries, and stone-ground wheat crackers on the table on
the enclosed patio, along with small plates and serving pieces. She’d also put together a caprese of sliced tomato and mozzarella drizzled with a balsamic vinegar glaze and topped with fresh basil, and a charcuterie plate with smoked ham, olives, cured sausage, and a pâté made with chicken liver.

  Diners were able to take advantage of the screened-in patio regardless of the weather. During the colder months or in inclement weather, the pocket doors were closed to the elements; woven shades, when raised, provided diners with picturesque views of the beach and ocean, while, at the same time, they were afforded complete privacy from those outside looking in.

  Kayana didn’t know whether Leah had had dinner, but had prepared a light snack in the event she hadn’t. She’d just returned to the dining room when the sound of the bell echoed throughout the restaurant.

  Peering through the blinds, she saw Leah and opened the door. A narrow dark-green headband holding her hair off her face matched a green floral midi-sundress. It was apparent the woman had spent time in the sun, as evidenced by the bright-red color on her nose and bared arms.

  “Welcome.”

  Leah flashed a warm smile. “Thank you. I have a confession to make.”

  Kayana’s expression changed at the same time she bit her lip. She didn’t want to believe their book club had met its demise before it even began. “What is it?”

  “I hope you don’t mind that I invited someone else to join us. I ran into her again and told her I was meeting with you to talk about books, and she seemed very interested. She’s younger than we are, but I feel she can offer another perspective to our discussions.”

  She was looking forward to talking about books with another person who shared her passion for the same genre. “Of course not. The more the merrier.”

  “I told her we were meeting here at six, so she should be coming soon.”

  The words were barely off Leah’s tongue when a young black woman with cropped dark hair wearing white shorts, a matching T-shirt, and red leather flip-flops walked up the steps. Kayana remembered seeing her once or twice when she’d come in for breakfast during the past week. She’d also noticed that she preferred sitting alone, wondering how she and Leah had connected. As she came closer, Kayana realized the younger woman hadn’t selected her clothes off a department-store rack, but from a boutique geared to those who selected garments without first checking the price tag. And she knew the crossbody designer bag had cost her at least five figures.