7. Chapter Seven
Chapter Seven
E mma
A few days pass, and I drum my fingers on the dining room table, sighing for the third time in a row.
"Emma Jane, you’re going to scuff up my good mahogany if you carry on with that."
I glance at my Grandpa who’s throwing on his signature conical hat and shuffling around the small living groom as he talks.
"Sorry, Grandpa," I say and draw back my hands, lacing them together in my lap to keep from fidgeting. "Just got a lot on my mind."
"That seems to be the case with you lately." He throws me an amused look and picks up his water bottle from the side table by the couch, tucking it into his sack. "Wanna let the load off a little bit?"
I shake my head. Typically, I love to tell Grandpa all about my problems, but not when they are financial in nature. He’s getting older and I don’t want him to worry as much.
It’s why I suggested he let Rick take over the management of the Tiki Bar, while I assisted and trained to be a co-manager.
At this stage, Grandpa should be planning a retirement and doing nothing but enjoying his life, going fishing and such.
Instead, he spent all his retirement funds on sending me to college, for a degree I didn’t even finish.
A familiar guilt travels through me but I shake my head. Guilt won't help me now.
I have to find a way to fix it and get that money back to him. I thought we could at least count on the Tiki Bar for consistent income, but sales have been dwindling more and more every year as fewer tourists roll into town.
And with this new development that James Dean Hair—I’ve taken to thinking of him as James Dean Hair—is planning, it’s going to make things even worse.
"That asshole," I murmur under my breath as Grandpa returns to searching for his sandals. It’s irritating that I don’t even know his name so I can’t even curse at him properly.
James Dean hair. Dark eyes. And lips that would seduce a nun.
"There we go," Grandpa announces triumphantly, fetching one of the sandals from under the couch. He’s kneeling and begins to stand, groaning as he gets up. He stumbles back a little when he stands fully, and I frown.
"You feeling okay, gramps?"
"Yeah." He waves away my concern. "Just not as spry as I used to be. At my age, everything just needs a little bit of oiling."
"Oh." I take note of his body as he places his hands at his waist and tilts forward, before moving his hips in a circle. "Do you want to see a physiotherapist or something?"
Ha. Like we can afford that.
"Nah. I’ll probably go see Poppy Moon’s daughter when she gets back to town, and go to one of her woo-woo things. Old Man Shoreton said that helped him with his joint pains."
"Sure. Or you could go see Poppy herself? I heard she used to be a nurse back in her army days."
"Over my dead body," Grandpa’s face suddenly gets dark. "The day I ask that woman for a favor is the day hell freezes over and the devil invites me in for a ski."
I chuckle. "Alright, Grandpa." My grandfather has a long-standing rivalry with Poppy Moon, one I don’t entirely understand. Neither of them has gone out of their way to explain the details to me.
All I know is that they were close once and may or may not have been high school sweethearts and had a falling out at some point. It’s intriguing and I have a bunch of possible stories crafted in my mind but my questions on that topic always go unanswered.
"Alright, I think I’m good to go," My grandpa says, throwing his fishing sack over his shoulder. "I’m feeling lucky enough to catch me a nice big bass today."
"I hope so. I’ve had just about enough pike as I can take."
"Alright. You going to the Tiki Bar today?"
"Yeah. For the afternoon shift." Carly showed up today and as a favor for covering her shift, she’s letting me come in late. She knows how to pour simple drinks and, apart from our little visitor, most of our patrons aren't picky.
But Carly didn't need to pay me back. I would have covered her shift anyway. It’s not like we can afford to let her go and hire someone else at this point.
Although, we might have to let her go anyway.
"Alright. Well then man the fort till then and don’t get into too much trouble."
"I won’t," I respond but before the words can even fully leave my mouth a loud knock sounds at the door. Grandpa and I glance at it in unison and then back at each other.
"You expecting anyone?" Grandpa asks and I shake my head, slipping out of my seat. I head to the doorway and look through the peephole, spotting familiar brown curls.
Oh no. Not this again.
Frowning, I pull open the door to find Amelia standing in the doorway, with the journal in hand and an apologetic look on her face.
"Hi." She lifts her hands and waves.
I don’t let it sway me. "What are you doing here Amelia?"
"I had a few questions for your Grandpa," she says. "See I was reading the journal and I noticed a couple of pages were missing. I wanted to ask if he knew what happened to them."
"Oh." Grandpa comes around behind me and his eyes gleam as he stares down at her with a smile. "It’s your little friend. Anna."
"Amelia." We both correct.
"There are some missing pages in the diary," Amelia continues. "Looks like they were ripped out. Do you know where they are?"
"Oh, I’m afraid that’s a mystery to grandfather as well," he says. "It was like that when I found it."
"Oh." Amelia's shoulders sag her disappointment.
"But I have a few theories about what could have happened to it." Grandpa rubs his chin musingly. Then he drops his sack by the door. "Oh well, I suppose I can delay my fishing trip for a few more hours. The sun won’t come down anytime son. Come on in and I’ll make you some tea and tell you all about it."
Grandpa heads to the kitchen beckoning us to follow.
Amelia grins and nods, but I block her as she makes a move to enter.
I raise an eyebrow at her. "Does your dad know where you are?"
"Yeah," she says and almost sounds convincing except for a slight tilt at the end of her tone. I raise an eyebrow at her and she sighs.
"Okay maybe not exactly," she says. "But I left a note this time, in case he was looking for me."
"You left a– Amelia, you can’t keep doing this."
"Doing what?"
"Running off on your dad. He was really worried about you when you did it a few days ago and one day you might give the man a heart attack."
"He’s not that old," she giggles but I don’t smile. She sighs.
"I’m sorry I lied to you about my age," she says. "I thought you wouldn’t take me seriously if you knew I was only thirteen."
"As much as you shouldn’t have done it, I understand. But that’s not what this is about. I’m going to have to call your dad this time and tell him where you are."
She sighs. "Alright. By the time he gets here, maybe Grandpa will have finished the rest of his story."
I offer her a smile this time. Crafty kid. "Maybe. Although I’m not entirely sure that’s possible. Grandfather likes to go off on tangents."
"Yeah, I noticed."
I open my palm and she reaches into her pocket and pulls out a phone. She unlocks it for me and opens the contacts, the most recent of which is 'Terminator Dad.'
I press it and hold it to my ears.
It only rings twice before he answers. "Amelia."
Even his voice has energy coursing through me. "Erm..it’s not Amelia."
There’s a few seconds of silence and then, "Shit."
"Yeah," is all I say to that. "She’s over here again. I’m guessing she didn’t tell you this time either."
"No, she didn’t," Amelia is looking at the doorway as we talk, investigating it like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world.
"You wanna talk to her?" I ask.
"No. Let her stay there. I’ll be right over."
And with that, he hangs up.
"A please and thank you would be nice," I murmur at the receiver as I hand it back over to Amelia.
"Dad’s not big on please and thank yous," she says with the same apologetic-ness as that day by the lake.
I smile.
"The tea is almost ready," Grandpa calls from the kitchen and I gesture my head to Amelia. "Come on. Let’s go have some hot chocolate. Or as Grandpa calls it, tea."
We head to our small kitchen where Grandpa is already filling a kettle with water from the tap. Amelia's eyes travel around the cluttered, colorful room with its mismatched pastel pans and shout of yellow wallpaper. The scent of cinnamon and eggnog drifts in the air. I’ve always liked our whimsical kitchen, but I imagine it's probably too shabby for a girl like Amelia.
"Don’t expect too much," I joke. "As you can tell from the decor, we’re not exactly serving five-star fare over here."
"I think it’s wonderful," Amelia says, sitting on a stool and laying the journal on the kitchen island. I would think she’s just being nice except for the awe in her voice
As Grandpa brews the hot chocolate, I spend much of the time asking Amelia about herself. She is indeed thirteen years old, and I learn that her parents are divorced and have joint custody. Her school offers a hybrid program where she studies partway at home and partway in person. It suits her lifestyle because she has to constantly travel.
"But it’s fine," she says as Grandpa slides a steaming cup of hot chocolate in front of her. "We’re on vacation now so I can spend some time with my dad. That's why I'm here."
Grandpa hands me my cup and then pulls up his own stool.
I sip my hot cocoa savoring the warm sweet thick liquid on my tongue.
Amelia looks at him expectantly and Grandpa clears his throat preparing his spiel.
"It was a dark–"
"And stormy night, yes, we're already past that," I say and wink at Amelia, who giggles.
Grandpa isn’t a bit deterred by my tone and forges on. "On such a night the Loyalty Ball was in full swing. This is the ball that the Grand Pearl held every year for its loyal patrons. Of course, it was a chance for the fancy schmancy tourists to wear their fancy schmancy outfits and rub shoulders with each other.
"And boy if you saw those outfits… you’ve never seen dresses like this. All of them sparkling like the night sky. The men in their silk tuxes. And there was your grandpa, of course, a strapping young man with a full head of hair, big strapping muscles– "
"I think you’re exaggerating a little on that last one Grandpa," I say. "I’ve seen photos of you and big strapping muscles would be a stretch." He was only slightly less lanky than he is now.
"Bite your tongue, Emma Jane. Your grandfather was quite the catch back in the day." But his eyes twinkle at the joke.
"Anyway, I was patrolling the grounds at the time, keeping the guests safe and of course keeping my eyes on the shrimp tray. Oh, they had the most delicious shrimp. You know I knew a woman at the time, Stella, one of the waitresses. She liked me quite a bit and would slip away with a whole tray of leftover shrimp for me all the time. I was hoping there would be some today."
"Get to the point, Grandpa," I say.
"I was enjoying looking out for the shrimps when I heard voices coming from out the window of one of the bedrooms on the bottom floor. It was two men arguing. One of them was saying that they had to leave tonight, because they already struck ivory. Staying would be riskier. The other guy agreed but said they couldn’t leave without their partner who was currently missing. That’s all I heard before Stella came and dragged me away to help serve the wine."
Amelia’s eyes pop open. "Wait…were those the thieves? You heard them talking?""Yup, I think so. You know they disguised themselves as guests when they got into the hotel, and stayed for the entire three-week-long festivities without getting caught? That was an incredible subterfuge. But I remember thinking that night that the conversation was strange. It was only in hindsight that I realized what they were actually talking about.""Stealing the Pink Pearl," Amelia murmurs.
Grandpa’s eyes twinkle as he grins. "You are one clever kid you know that?"Amelia beams at him, then frowns. "Wait, what does that have to do with the missing pages?"
Grandpa opens his mouth but a loud knock on the door interrupts the story and we both glance over there.
I sigh. "Looks like you’re out of luck."
Amelia nods and her face falls.
I pick up my mug and head to open the door
James Dean Hair doesn’t even look at me, walking right past me to call out, "Amelia Rose."
Amelia is now standing in the living room, her arms crossed over her chest.
"Dad," she says.
"We had an agreement." His tone is dark, expression tight, but his daughter doesn't back down.
"No. You agreed. I didn’t. Dad, I can’t sit in that room all day. I tried but I’m going crazy."
"I never told you to sit in your room all day. You can go anywhere you want as long as you’re accompanied by Sandy."
"Why her? Sandy's nice but she just wants to shop all the time, and I hate it. She never wants to go hiking or adventuring in the woods. Always says it’s too dangerous."
"Maybe because it is!"
"Actually, our forests are relatively safe," I point out. "They’re free of bears and stuff, you just have to be on the lookout for snakes. And they pretty much leave you alone if you leave them alone too."
"Stay out of it." His eyes whip to me for mere seconds, spitting fire and sparking my own temper.
"Fine," I say and then mutter, "Maybe if you weren’t such a control freak you wouldn't be having this problem."
He glares at me some more, telling me that he clearly heard me. Then again, I wasn't doing much to avoid being heard.
"Get in the car," he tells Amelia.
"No," she responds.
"I’m not going to say it again, Amelia."
She stomps her feet, her face turning red. "Ugh, this is why I hate being with you! I hate that you have more custody than Mom!"
For a second his expression shifts. His face appears struck and he pales.
I almost feel sorry for him.
But then something happens to end it all.
Grandpa lets out a loud choked sound, his eyes going wide.
They meet mine for a long fearful second and then he collapses on the floor.