Chapter 17
Seventeen
Ali
Ali napped. What was with her? She never napped. But the salt air, the breeze, and the sound of the ocean right outside the little Key Lime Cottage had her more relaxed than she’d been in…she didn’t know how long. Had she ever been this relaxed?
It was past dinner when she woke up. She looked at her phone and slid the weather app to the weather in Toledo. Gray, slushy, blech. Everyone loved the fluffy snow in December, but January into February? Not so much. She’d made a career of convincing convention selection committees that Frogtown Convention Center would be lovely all year round. And it was, but she did have to offer good discounts in the winter to get the thing booked. Selling the Midwest in December was easy. In February or March? A bit of a slog.
Well, that wasn’t her challenge anymore. Let Jerry figure out how to book next winter. Or manage the custodial staff, who she knew, was getting very frustrated with the budget cuts Jerry wanted to make.
Not your problem Ali Kelly, not your problem.
Her problem was getting a divorce from Ted. She hadn’t let that be at the top of her mind since her marriage imploded the same day her father died. She’d used the endless tasks of the end of his life to avoid the end of her marriage. Ali supposed she should think about it all, though. Unpack what went wrong. But it all made her so sad, defeated. She decided to avoid that Pandora’s Box for now. Plus, there were no messages from Barb Burns, her divorce attorney, so she would just trust things on that depressing front were moving as they should.
She did miss the kids though; she always missed the kids. Even when she was in Toledo.
Maybe that was a condition of having adult kids and no grandkids? She’d have to get used to that, she supposed.
She had a group text with Katie and Tye, so she texted a few pictures of the Key Lime and the ocean.
No response from either. Which was typical. If they texted her, she responded like there was a fire. If she texted them, now that they were in college, she’d get a response a day or so later.
While they were in high school, there was a strict proof of life policy, a “you-have-one-minute-to-respond” situation for texting. But now that they were out in the world—well, over on Bancroft Street at the University—she didn’t make rules like that anymore. Though she did still pay for the cell phones.
She and Ted did, that was. There was going to be a fair amount to untangle. She couldn’t untangle it tonight, and she was getting a little hungry. Ali decided it was time to see this Grand Finale she’d heard about from the proprietor of the Seashell Shack and Didi.
She slid on her lone pair of flip-flops. And she really had to appreciate how getting in the right wardrobe got her in a more relaxed mindset. This vintage kaftan was light, cool, and, best of all, no binding anywhere. She didn’t feel compelled to suck anything in. She was so tired of sucking things in.
For a moment, she worried that she didn’t have something to bring to Didi and Jorge. Was that rude? Was this a social event? She had no idea.
Ali shrugged and went out the front door of Key Lime. At the end of the path that ran in the center of the little village of cottages, there was the gorgeous beach. She spied Jorge sitting in a lounge that looked quite comfortable. She saw Didi pouring wine for a lanky figure of a man. As she got closer, she realized it was the owner of the Seashell Shack. Apparently, Haven Beach was a small world.
Ali started toward them, but then sand weighed down her flip-flops. They were not necessary; the hot sand had cooled as the sun sank. She kicked them both off and hooked them on her left finger.
The sinking sun. That was the show, she now fully understood.
The sun looked like an over-ripe orange. The sky was a light blue tinged with pink. The horizon was a different blue and tinged with the orange.
She stood in place and stared. As she did, the sun sank further toward the waterline.
“Ali! Get over here, I’ve got a glass ready for you.” Didi had a bottle of wine and a full glass of white wine. She handed it over, and Ali thanked her.
“We’ve got a tray of cheese and snacks over by Jorge. This is Henry Hawkins. He owns a restaurant about three units over. You have to have his crab cakes.”
“I have had them, delicious.”
“You’re looking like local now, much better.” Henry complimented her on her kaftan.
“Ha, well, courtesy of Didi.”
He sure was handsome, and casual, and cool. Ali realized she was having high school-type thoughts. Get over it. This is not MTV Spring Break , you old lady!
“We’re similarly vertically challenged,” Didi chuckled.
“It looks lovely on both of you,” Henry said.
“And here,” Didi told Ali, “this is Erica Bell. She runs Morning Bell, the best coffee on the beach. It’s a must.”
“Hello! Welcome! Hey, Didi?” Erica pointed to her wine glass.
The woman’s boho vibe was something Ali aspired to have without knowing it. Cut-off shorts, dozens of bracelets, a colorful smock, and wild steel dreads topped off the look.
“Yes, yes! My apologies.” Didi filled Erica’s glass.
“I’m off tomorrow, my daughter is taking the whole day for me, so I can go crazy!”
“Crazy for Erica is two glasses,” Henry said to Ali.
“Okay,” Didi said, business-like once more. “We have a few hotel guests. I’m going to go make sure they’re enjoying the Grand Finale. If they can’t use the pool, at least they’ll be glad they got some free vino!”
“Good plan,” Erica said. “Here, sit, chill.” She guided all three of them to two chairs and a nearby beach blanket.
“You ladies take the chairs, I’m good on the sand.” Henry plopped down on the beach blanket, and Ali heard a distinct pop.
“Are you okay?” she asked, concerned he’d hurt himself.
“Ah, yes, my knees love making that sound these days.”
“Oh, you know it, mine too,” Erica replied. “And I didn’t even play baseball like this one. I was getting on the ladder, and it was like pop rocks.” The two laughed.
Ali could relate. Lately, getting down on the floor was easy, but getting up, well, that was another story.
“What do you do, Ali?” Henry asked.
“I am the assistant to the manager and event coordinator of Frogtown Convention Center. Uh, well, I was, until a couple of weeks ago.”
“Whoa, that sounds like a lot of work,” Erica said.
“It was. I liked it, though, mostly.”
“Frogtown, I forgot that nickname,” Henry said.
“Ah, yes, we also have the Black Swamp, The Glass City, all Toledo.”
“You were in Toledo, right?” Jorge asked Henry. “For a season?”
“Yep, in my downward baseball career, that was a stop,” Henry said and took a sip of the wine. He said it with good humor.
“We get a lot of Toledo and Detroit folks around here in about a month or so,” Erica told Ali. “Spring break. Every once in a while, a baseball fanatic recognizes him.”
“They have to be a really committed fanatic,” Henry said modestly.
“Stop, you’re locally famous, anyway.”
“For my crab cakes!”
“They were delicious,” Ali chimed in and then turned her focus back to the horizon. The sun appeared to bob on the top of the water now. “It’s fast, this sunset thing.”
“You know it,” Erica agreed. “Just yesterday, I was in a wet t-shirt contest hosted by Ken Ober, and now I’m wondering if I should increase the dose of my estrogen patch.”
Henry and Erica laughed, and Ali felt included immediately. Like these old friends were opening their circle to her with no hesitation. What sweet people she’d met in the last two days. It was as if some of the normal stressors of life were in better proportion here than back home.
Ali created a stack of cheese and crackers from the selection on the little tray Didi had offered. They were hitting the spot.
“Where are you two from?” she asked Erica and Henry.
“I’m from Chicago, originally, and Henry’s from South Carolina,” Erica said.
“Everyone’s a transplant here, by the way, except Didi and Jorge, they’re lifers,” Henry added.
“Oh, look!” Erica pointed to the horizon where a fin and then another fin slid up and down on the surface.
“What?” Ali was thinking Jaws , but Henry set her right.
“Dolphin family.”
“Ah.”
The sun sank further now, and almost as if there was an unspoken mutual agreement, every one of the dozen or so people gathered for the Grand Finale stopped chatting. Even Didi stopped flitting from person to person. And they all watched, in quiet, as the sun melted into the water.
The orange orb lit the line of water, seemingly on fire.
Down. Down.
And then there was just a little bump of a flame.
And then gone!
The group erupted in cheers.
“Bravo!”
“Good one!”
“Well done!”
“What do you think, Ali. Worth staying over?” Didi asked, appearing by Ali’s side.
“Worth it? Yes, more than worth it. Stunning.”
“Yep, another show tomorrow evening. But just so you know, it’s never the same show twice,” Henry said and lifted a glass to the horizon as if to toast it.
“Okay, see you all tomorrow,” Erica called, already making her way back across the sand. “Come over to the coffee shop, Ali. I’ll let them know your first cup’s on me.”
“Oh, thank you, no need to.”
“Pshaw. That’s how I hook you,” Erica grinned.
“Dang, she’s good,” Henry said. “I should have done the same with the crab cakes. Wait, Jorge, sit down, what the heck?”
Henry popped up off the beach blanket and ran—pretty deftly, in Ali’s opinion—over to Jorge, who was struggling to help collect beach chairs.
“No, no. I’m doing this.” Henry folded chairs and grabbed the cooler that Didi had brought down from the Sea Turtle.
“Fine, fine, but I’m better. I’m way better,” Jorge said.
“I realize that, but my mother would turn over in her grave if her baby boy didn’t help pick up after your lovely hospitality.”
Henry and Jorge continued to banter as Didi approached Ali again.
“Now you see, a little piece of paradise, right?”
“It appears to be the case. Yes.”
“Everyone who stays is invited down here to enjoy the Grand Finale. It’s been dwindling, thanks to the issues we’re working on, but sometimes we have over two dozen. It’s my favorite part of the day. I love that locals like us and our sweet guests mingle and just kick back and appreciate the view.”
“And how fast it goes,” Ali said again.
Why was that sticking with me?
“Yes, and how fast it all goes.”
Didi was talking about life. That was clear. Ali realized she was, too. The sunset made it plain. Time was moving faster than she appreciated.
Ali wanted to ask Didi all the business things she needed to know. But she didn’t. Life was speeding by, and she ought to give herself one night of relaxation on the beach. No lists or tasks to accomplish.
Oddly, she felt a little sad. Ali wanted to see what the sun did tomorrow.
Maybe I’ll stay a few more days to sort things out.