Chapter 9
CHAPTER 9
“Fancy running into you, here,” Jack holds the door for her and motions for her to go in. He takes off his jacket and puts it on the back of a chair, “Do you have time to hang out for a few minutes?” he asks. “Whatever you want, I’ve got it.”
Lizzie wonders if the next two weeks are going to be a sea of endless run-ins with Jack. She was suddenly missing the anonymity of living in Boston. She’d forgotten how small this place was. It was good in some ways–locals were always helping each other out–but the downside was there were no secrets and no privacy.
“Thanks, but I can’t, I’m here for work,” she says not wanting to stand here too long talking to him.
“Is the Boston Sentinel doing a story about Cranberry Harbor?” he asks, curious.
“Oh, no, I’m helping my dad,” she wants to just get away but finds herself explaining the broken arm situation.
“That’s so nice of you to help him, I’m sure he really appreciates it,” he says. “Are you sure I can’t get you a coffee or something? Even when you’re working you need coffee, especially when you’re working. I know you.”
She’s not taking the bait of him knowing her so well, and being charmed by it. “No, really, I’m good, thanks though,” she turns to go find Leah.
“Okay, maybe another time, I’ll text you,” he says, getting in line to get his coffee, then turning to watch her go.
Lizzie pokes her head in the doorway to the back of the shop where all the baking magic happens. “Leah?” she calls out.
“Just a minute,” a young voice calls back. “Be right there.”
Lizzie leans against the doorframe thinking about how she can avoid seeing Jack for the rest of the time she’s home and thinks it’s pretty impossible unless she just stays at her parent’s house and never leaves. Leah emerges, drying her hands on a towel.
“Oh my gosh, Lizzie! I didn’t know it was you!” Leah gives her a big hug. “What are you doing here? I mean not in Cranberry Harbor, but here, now?”
“Well, you may have heard, since Sea Coast is the nerve center of the town, that Stan fell and broke his arm,” she says.
“I did hear that. My grandma took some muffins and coffee to them. I was so sorry to hear that. So what can I do for you?”
“Well, I’m helping my dad out by doing some stories for the paper, and he said that you had been very involved in trying to make the festival more eco-friendly. Would you have a couple of minutes to give me the basics of what you’re doing?”
Leah glances back at the kitchen, “Yeah, I don’t have too long, but if we can be quick.” They walk over to an empty table and sit down. “I don’t mean to be difficult or anything, it’s just with the holidays and people taking time off, it’s a little crazy. I have a hard enough time getting enough help, never mind at Christmas.”
Lizzie has taken out a notebook and pen. “My brother was filling me in a bit about the lack of help, he’s having a really hard time.”
“It’s all so interconnected - the lack of affordable housing, and I’m not even talking affordable with a big A, just housing normal, working people can afford is getting more and more rare. So, that means fewer families. This used to be a perfect after-school, first-time job but there are fewer and fewer teenagers around here,” Leah says, sitting back and taking a deep breath. “If my family didn’t live here I wouldn’t be able to.”
“I’ve been off-Cape since I graduated from college. I knew it was bad, but I didn’t realize quite how bad,” Lizzie says.
“It’s really reaching a crisis point,” Leah says. “Something has to change. Someone has to come up with some innovative ideas or no working people will be able to live here. Ugh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to go off on that. That’s not what you came here to talk to me about!”
“Don’t apologize! This is an important subject and after the festival I think I may want to talk to you again and get more into this. But yeah, for now, tell me what is happening with the festival,” she says, pen poised to start writing.
“Well, first of all, all plastic is banned from drinking bottles to forks, spoons, decorations,” she says.
“Was that a hard sell to the other businesses and vendors?” Lizzie asks.
“Not really, we’ve been edging more and more toward no plastic for a while. And most restaurants who do takeout switched to compostable containers, bamboo cutlery, things like that,” Leah says.
“And what about decorations?”
“More businesses are decorating with living trees that will be planted after the holidays, and they are using decorations that will be able to be used year after year, and we’re doing a big push to shop local and convince people to not shop online but to support local businesses.”
“That seems like a lot to try to control!” Lizzie says, writing everything down.
“It is!” Leah laughs. “I’m very passionate about not throwing decorations away, wrapping paper too, and I especially want to encourage people to shop locally. It’s hard. People love sitting at home in their jammies with their laptop clicking and putting all their gifts in their shopping cart. But we’ve got some tricks up our sleeves,” she teases.
“Oh yeah?” Lizzie smiles back.
“Yes, we’re having raffles, giveaways, contests, people can win gift certificates, and lots of businesses are offering free shipping for gifts you need to send. Oh! And everyone is using lights that use lots less energy and the lights used in the town square, thanks to your brother, are all solar, with battery backup in case we have a dark and stormy stretch.”
“You seem to have thought of everything,” Lizzie says.
“Hardly, I know we could do so much more, but it’s baby steps, you know? Introducing people here to be thinking in terms of not throwing things away and being proactive about promoting ourselves in a conscious way is a lot. Too many people just think they can't compete with the big online options and don’t even try. Getting more businesses to have a social media presence is a big part of getting people to know they’re here and show them the amazing gifts they can find locally.”
“Leah, I am so impressed at your commitment to Cranberry Harbor, and the planet. This town is very lucky to have you,” Lizzie says, feeling very sentimental about her hometown. “With involved and committed people like you I actually have hope that things can get better here.”
“Aw, you’re too nice,” Leah says, blushing. “I love it here, and it makes me so sad that there are so few people my age in town. This community can’t survive without young adults to work, and who wants to live somewhere with no young families?”
“It wouldn’t be the Cape I grew up on, that’s for sure.” She hesitates to ask her something personal, but decides to. “This isn’t for the story, but I just wondered…” she pauses.
“You can ask me anything, Lizzie, I’ve known you my whole life,” Leah says.
“Do you get lonely being here? Do you feel like you’re missing out on having friends, a social life?” Lizzie shakes her head in embarrassment. “Ugh, I just made so many assumptions there, I’m sorry.”
“No! Don’t apologize, you’re actually one of the few people who has asked me that and I honestly appreciate it. It’s like you see me, and what it’s like to live in a town where the median age is 65.”
“Okay, I just didn’t want to overstep and seem like I was prying. I guess I was partly asking because, I don’t know, I’ve sometimes wondered what it would be like to live here. My parents certainly want me to!” They both laugh. “So I just wondered if the reality matched what I have always imagined.”
“And what have you imagined?” Leah asks, raising a brow.
“That in the summer it would be lots of bros from off-Cape maybe looking to go out with a local girl or woman, and then they’re gone. And in the off-season, it’s desolate and all the guys my age are either married or single for a very good reason.” Again, they both laugh.
“Yeah, that pretty well sums it up.” She’s quiet for a minute. “But, my Grandma Hope always says it only takes one special person. One might not be too hard to come by, right? At least that’s what I tell myself.”
“That’s a very good point, Hope is very wise,” Lizzie agrees.
“You live in Boston, has it been easy to find love there?” Leah asks, tilting her head inquisitively.
“Good point! The answer to that question would be no,” Lizzie answers.
Leah shrugs her shoulders, “I think when it’s supposed to happen it does, and you just have to be smart enough to recognize it when it appears.”
She may be very young, but she’s pretty wise, Lizzie thinks. She wonders if she’d recognize love herself if it showed up. She’s been pretty closed off these last three years. She shakes herself out of her thoughts, and aware that Leah has a lot to do, starts to gather up her things.
“Thank you so much for your time, and for all you’re doing. I meant it that I said I want to talk to my dad about doing a story about the future of Cranberry Harbor. Something is going to have to change, people need to get involved or the town we love will be gone.”
They both stand up. “I’d love that,” says Leah, giving Lizzie a hug. “I’ll be here! After the festival, come by. I can introduce you to some other people who are involved too. I’ve talked to Jack Cahoon a bit, he seems interested in helping too. You know him, right?”
There is truly no escaping him. “Yup, I do,” Lizzie says, nodding.
“He’s got all the tech knowledge and his getting involved could be a game changer,” Leah says. “Like he wants to help create a unified app for all the restaurants so people have one user-friendly place to go to order take out in town. Amazing!”
“Good to know. I’ll have to talk to him about that,” Lizzie says, putting on her coat. “We will be in touch! I’m sure I will see you when I make my daily stop here while I'm home.”
“I look forward to it!” Leah says, heading back to the kitchen.
Lizzie pushes open the door and starts walking back to the Gazette office. Looking around at the town as she walks she feels a sadness that the town she grew up in, where her family lives, is at risk. She has to admit that she hasn’t given it much thought before and feels horrible that she’s been blind. But maybe in a small way she can help by shining a light on what is going on. It might not be a lot, but it’s a start.
It’s getting dark as she starts walking back to the Gazette, hoping her dad is still there to give her a ride home. When she spies his car in his space she’s relieved.
“Hey Dad,” she says to him, still writing away. “Have you gotten up since I left two hours ago?” she asks. “You know they say sitting is the new smoking. Maybe you should get a standing desk?”
He waves her off. “No way, I need to sit and ponder, I could never write standing up.”
“It was just a thought, I know better than to push,” she says, walking around the desk to see what he’s working on. “How are things coming?” she asks, looking at the screen.
“Good, I think? It might be a little light this week, but what we lack in editorial will be made up for in holiday ads, so it should look okay.”
“I’ll write these stories up tonight and email them to you so they’re here in the morning.” She’s feeling hungry but doesn’t want to push her dad to leave. “Um, so I was wondering how long you might be?”
“Oh gosh, I forgot completely that you don’t have your car here,” he stands up. “I have a bit more to do but I’ll run you home and come back.”
“I hate for you to do that, Dad, I could come back and get you when you’re done,” she says.
“No, see? I’m standing up! Consider this my exercise,” he jokes as he slips on his jacket.
“Dad,” Lizzie says, as they walk out the door, “driving a car three miles down the road is hardly a workout.”
“I know, I know, but at least I am getting some fresh air,” he says as they each get in the car.
“I won’t push you today, but sometime this week we’re going for a walk, okay?” Lizzie says, fastening her seatbelt.
“Deal,” he says, starting the car and backing up. “Just don’t give your mom any more ideas, okay? Jackfruit pot roast, veggie burgers and tofu are quite enough to be dealing with, thank you very much,” he looks at her and smiles.
“Deal. My lips are sealed.” As they drive this very familiar route Lizzie can't help but keep thinking about her conversation with Leah. “I really enjoyed talking to Leah, Dad, and I was thinking, after the festival I’d like to write something along with her about what’s happening here with jobs, housing, the environment, would you be up for that?”
“Most definitely!” he says, turning onto their street. “Those are the kinds of in-depth stories I want to do more of, but with just Stan and me it never happens. I’d be thrilled to have you do it, thank you, honey.”
“I miss writing stories that matter, they have me writing these news snippets, I hardly ever get more than 600 words which is not nearly enough space to write anything of any importance,” she says.
Peter pulls into their driveway. “I know, it’s horrible what’s happening,” he says, putting the car in park. “Okay, tell your mom I will be home a bit later,” he leans over and gives her a kiss on the cheek. “I love getting to work with you,” he says.
“It is fun, I will say that,” she says getting out of the car. “See you soon,” she says, closing the door and heading to the house, which she has to admit feels a lot more like home right now than Boston does.