Chapter Six
Cade
“Marina told me to bring lattes.” A pretty redhead wearing a Mermaid Café apron is standing outside of Merry’s Christmas Cheer holding two disposable coffee cups when we exit. She looks to be in her thirties.
I put on my sunglasses and graciously accept a latte, then wait while Lena takes her coffee and asks her employee, Keira, how things are going at the Mermaid Café.
“Smooth sailing,” Keira assures Lena, who thanks her profusely, although something in Lena’s tone doesn’t ring true to me. Keira doesn’t seem to notice.
They talk about deliveries and the regulars who’ve come in, allowing me a chance to study them.
The two women couldn’t be more different.
Keira’s bright red hair rivals the hot pinks and greens of her long, flowing jacket and shouts for attention every time the wind tosses her locks.
Lena’s blue jeans and soft brown sweater under her lightweight teal jacket are more easy going.
She doesn’t fuss with the wisps of hair flying loose from her bun.
I want to unravel that bun, along with the enigma that is Lena. One minute, we seem to be on the same page. And the next, she’s turned the page on me.
A blast of wind strikes us, so strong Lena takes a step back, bidding Keira farewell.
“Nothing like a gust of ocean wind to remind you there’s somewhere you need to be.” Lena faces me, holding that coffee cup near the lips I’ve wanted to taste since she put that wooden heart in my hand in Merry Christmas Cheer.
But something nags at me. “Why were you unhappy when Keira told you everything was under control at the Mermaid Café?”
Lena tilts her head. “I didn’t say that.”
“No. But the way you reacted…”
Lena stares out at the sea. “It’s just that sometimes…lately…I feel as if the place could run without me.”
Her words from yesterday about finding and purchasing the Mermaid Café return to me: This place had been vacant for years and needed love.
I think it needed Lena’s specific brand of love.
“I can relate to wanting to feel needed,” I admit slowly. It’s not something I ever share but saying the words out loud to her feels right. “I’ve often thought my father doesn’t need me at the family business.”
“Or perhaps he needs you but not in a way that’s healthy for you,” Lena says, her keen gaze returning to me. “Sorry, that felt judgmental. I don’t know anything about you or your father.”
“No.” I reach out and briefly rub her shoulder, wanting that connection. Wanting her to know me, the real me. “That felt like something someone close to me would say out of concern for my well-being.”
Lena nods. And then nods again, briskly this time. “Are you ready for the next stop?” she asks, seemingly eager to change the subject.
“Trouble is ready.” I gesture for her to take the lead. “This is a great way for me to be introduced to businesses in town.”
“Business owners, you mean.” She’s smart, my Lena. Her nose rises in the air as she starts walking. “I can assure you, they don’t want to sell.”
I frown. “Did you google me last night?” How could that be possible? I couldn’t recall telling her my last name.
Lena shakes her head. “No need. We’ve had your kind here before. Most were better at solving riddles.”
“I’m only interested in solving the riddle of you,” I reply candidly. Purposefully. Some might even say stupidly.
My father, for one.
Lena gasps, trying to hurry ahead as we pass a mermaid statue. “Minus two points for being so…so…”
“Minus two points?” I lengthen my stride to match her pace. “I have to answer riddles and be graded on the tour?”
“No.” Her frown deepens. “It’s me. I’m keeping a tally on you.”
I smile. “Should I be flattered? Or concerned?”
“Neither.” Lena tries to wave the conversation off but after a bit, she admits, “The tally is just to remind me that suave, handsome men can break my heart.”
I take that in for a moment before saying, “That tally implies you’re attracted to me.” And don’t want to be.
“I can’t be attracted to you.” Lena scoffs, slowing as we near the Barnacle Diner. “Not when your point total is in the negative column.”
“Challenge accepted.”
Lena rolls her pretty blue eyes. “Trouble never gets out of the negative column.”
“Never?” I slip a hand beneath her arm, as if I’m escorting her through a tricky path where we might stumble, as if I have every right to touch her, to steady her, to draw her close and kiss her.
Lena bites her lower lip.
“There’s always a first time for everything.” As Trouble, I’m determined to have her tally tip the positive end of the scale. I open the door to the Barnacle Diner and let her enter before me. Then I take a good look around.
Whereas the Mermaid Café is over-the-top in mermaid atmosphere, the Barnacle is more like a local diner I’d encounter anywhere.
Framed photographs of soccer and baseball teams wearing Barnacle jerseys hang behind the cash register.
The flooring is black and white checked squares of linoleum.
The booths beneath the sea-facing windows are covered in blue pleather, as are the bar stool and chair seats.
The tables look to be from the 1950s with a blue atomic design on the Formica.
It’s mid-morning and the place is more than half-full.
Lena brings me to the owner of the diner, Dee Holloway. I know from my research that Dee is a no-nonsense woman who used to waitress at a truck stop and has been known to toss unruly customers out the door.
“Ah. You’re on the tour today.” Dee’s eyes are sharp, her bobbed hair an unnatural jet black with a streak of white at her temple.
“I’m on the tour,” I confirm, introducing myself and offering my hand to shake.
“Being on the tour doesn’t mean you’re welcome here.” Dee scowls at my hand without taking it. And then at the paper coffee cup I’m holding. “Fancy shoes. Fancy coffee. I hear you drive a fancy red sports car, too.”
“No crime in appreciating the finer things in life,” I say, lowering my hand and hurrying to add, “Like coffee from the Mermaid Café. It’s quite good.”
Dee’s eyes widen and her face flushes red. I’ve struck a nerve.
“My coffee is very different from Dee’s.
” Lena plucks my coffee from my hand, darts behind the counter, and throws our lattes away.
Then she returns to my side, taking my hand and giving it what I believe is a quick, warning squeeze.
“The Barnacle Diner is known for its filling meals and strong coffee. Isn’t that right, Dee? ”
Dee draws a breath and gives me a brittle smile. “Folks say my coffee keeps them awake for days. Might not be your usual style, Cade.” She gives a wry chuckle. “Might keep you up all night plotting Mermaid Bay’s demise.”
“We wouldn’t want that now, would we?” Lena murmurs, releasing my hand.
“Plotting?” I gesture toward myself. “Moi?”
“He’s got fancy words, too,” Dee quips, tucking that lock of white hair behind one ear. “You won’t fool me. I bet you want to get rid of the Barnacle—and me—and put a chain restaurant in here.”
“When did progress become villainous?” I try to look non-threatening. Must not have succeeded since Lena elbows me.
“When did progress become villainous? In the 1980s,” Dee snaps back, leading us to a booth with a great view of the ocean. While we slide in, she snaps toward the kitchen. “One tour special and two coffees.”
A waitress approaches with two extra-large mugs and a pot of steaming coffee.
While she pours us our cups of Joe, Dee keeps talking, “Merry told me you’re bad at riddles. Tells me a lot about a man when he can’t solve a puzzle.” She scoffs. “Here’s my riddle. What’s black and green and full of vitamins?”
The answer has to be food. We are, after all, in a diner. “Steak and spinach?”
“Wrong! You suck at riddles, Cade.” Dee cackles, clearly relishing my lack of wit. “And you want us to put the fate of our town’s livelihood in your hands? Not a chance.” Still cackling, she heads toward the kitchen, disappearing through a swinging door.
The air seems easier to breath now that Dee’s gone.
I turn my gaze back to the more pleasant part of the tour—Lena. In this light, Lena’s eyes are the blue of the water off the Caribbean islands. I wish this was a date. Then I could reach across the table and intertwine my fingers with hers.
I hear my father’s laughter in my head. He’d never let attraction come between him and a business deal.
It’s a reminder this isn’t a date, that it can’t be, even if Lena’s tally of my attributes rises. “Why do I get the feeling that Dee’s purpose on the tour is to take me down a peg or two?”
“Because…” Lena is dumping every creamer pod on the table into her coffee mug. “The entire tour is designed to show real estate hopefuls, like you, that Mermaid Bay is unique and uniquely united against developers.”
I stare into my mug, breathing in the strong aroma of freshly ground beans. It’s bracing enough that I recall my goal in life—proving my worth to my father—which has nothing to do with a fascinating coffee barista. “Everyone has a price.”
“I like to think that’s not true.” Lena stirs the now blond contents of her mug. “Drink your coffee or Dee will give you grief.”
I sip my black coffee. It’s thick as sludge and so strong my mouth is left dry. “There are few times I’ve found a reputation is well-deserved. But this is one of them.” Dee’s coffee is indeed strong enough to wire someone on caffeine for a long, long time.
Lena smiles. “Her coffee is great when you need to tackle long, unpleasant projects, like cleaning out the storage room.”
I could play along. “Or shredding documents after tax time.”
“Weeding the garden.” Lena sips her coffee.
“Putting up Christmas lights outside.”
Lena sets her coffee mug down. “You don’t put up Christmas lights.”
“I do.”
She shakes her head. “No. You pay someone to do that.”
How did she know me so well? “Okay, I pay someone. But I would do it if I had coffee like this to drink.” I raise my mug and take another bracing sip before studying Lena once more and thinking about kisses.
Which only reminds me that my tally is low in her eyes.
“Why did you come to Mermaid Bay?” Her comments yesterday implied she wasn’t a native.
Lena stares at her coffee, moves her gaze to the window, then drops it back to her coffee once more. “I’d just signed divorce papers the second time,” she admits slowly, not looking up. “Two divorces in one decade. That isn’t the way life is supposed to be by your thirtieth birthday.”
I nod. “Sadly, I’m familiar with rocky marriages.” A gull swoops past the window and then it’s my turn to look toward the ocean, my thoughts barreling toward the past. “My wife and I… We were na?ve.”
“We didn’t know who we were,” Lena murmurs. “I don’t think you do until you approach forty.”
I nod again. “We were too focused on building our careers.” I still am, I suppose. I’ve always wanted to do my dad proud. To finally have him acknowledge me as his equal.
A large wave pounds the shore, a symbolic amen.
“My second marriage came with a ready-made family.” Lena sips her coffee, staring out the window, her expression sad and nostalgic at the same time. “It would be a cop-out to say that his kids made marriage that much harder. I loved them.” She looks at me with interest. “Do you have children?”
I shake my head. “I have three nieces. I always wanted kids though, if only to have a family that was more like… I don’t know. Maybe like families you see in Hallmark movies?” My sister had made me watch them with her a time or two.
“A family that likes each other?” Lena’s blue eyes sparkle. She looks windblown and beautiful. “Or a partner who loves you enough to be painfully honest with you?”
“Both, I think.” And I imagine she fits the bill.
“Here’s your food.” Dee slides what looks like a pot pie with a side of mashed potatoes in front of me.
Only pot pies never smelled like this. Fishy. Greasy.
My stomach pitches.
“I’ll ask you again.” Dee fixes a stare on me like Santa would when evaluating a child to decide if he should get presents or a lump of coal. “What’s black and green and full of vitamins?”
A crowd gathers behind Dee. Locals, by the look of them. They all seem to know the joke…er, the answer to the riddle. And they also seem to know that whatever the punchline is, it’s on me.
“The answer to your riddle is this pie,” I tell Dee, knowing that isn’t the entire answer but hoping I can get out of eating this foul-smelling concoction.
“In general, you are correct. My ancestors were from jolly old England.” Dee sits next to Lena, nudging her toward the window. “Whew. My sciatica is acting up. Can’t hardly work a full shift anymore.”
“Might be time to retire,” I say swiftly.
“Or not. Everyone has days like that, Dee,” Lena says considerately, before striking me with a warning glance. “Days when they want to quit.”
“I’m far from retirement,” Dee says sharply, frowning at no one in particular.
“If you say so.” But I’ve put the idea on the table for her to noodle.
“Anyway…” Dee sets her sights back on me. “This pie is a delicacy first served here over a hundred years ago. A recipe passed down through my family. But your guess must be more specific.”
I sniff the steam coming out of the pie. Definitely fishy. “This was served as a punishment?”
“This was served to kings.” Dee shakes a finger at me. “Didn’t you hear me say it was a delicacy?”
There is no way to answer Dee’s riddle without taking a bit of the pie.
I pick up my fork. Nothing has ever been gained by procrastination. I pierce the pie with my fork and spear a chunk of something wrapped in what looks like spinach, thrusting it in my mouth before I have time to think.
The crowd applauds, accented by hearty laughter. Everyone is in on the joke, except me.
Only Lena doesn’t laugh. She’s got an expression of revulsion on her face and her hand over her throat.
Whatever is in my mouth is chewy and oily. My brain reels with possibilities… Octopus? Squid? Conch?
With effort, I swallow. And then I take several sips of that really thick, really strong coffee, which does nothing to cleanse my palate because… “Eel. It’s eel pie.”
I control my gag reflex as my father’s voice echoes in my head—Do anything to close a deal. I bet dear old Dad never had to eat eel pie to achieve his goals.
“I like this one.” Chuckling, Dee elbows Lena. “Doesn’t mean I’ll sell to him or that I want him to change our town. But I think he might be the first one to have a chance to eat every bite of eel pie.”
“I live to break records. Never say never.” I capture Lena’s gaze, wondering if my tally has taken a positive leap.