Chapter Twelve #2
“Hey.” He was wearing a baseball shirt and jeans today. But his feet were still bare, and his hair was still tousled.
“We’ve come for lunch,” Flo told him.
He looked surprised.
“It’s going to be our first night sleeping in our house,” Flo explained, “and it’s the last weekend before school, so we’re having lunch to celebrate. Or calm our fears. We’re eating our feelings, basically.” She considered the empty chalkboard. “What happened to your menu?”
“Season’s over, kid. We’re only open on the weekends now.”
“It is the weekend,” I reminded him.
“Yeah,” he said. “But there isn’t anyone here.”
“We’re here,” Flo told him firmly.
He sighed. “Fine. But I don’t have the full menu available. I only have lobster rolls and coleslaw.”
“Isn’t that what you always have?”
He gave her a sour look. “No. In peak season I also serve fries and onion rings. And hot dogs for kids who don’t like lobster.”
“You don’t have hot dogs today?” I said nervously, knowing Flo was going to hate her lobster roll.
He took one look at my expression and sighed again. “I guess I could break out a hot dog or two if I had to.”
“If you don’t have any customers, you should join us for lunch,” Flo suggested.
“Flo, if I never eat a lobster roll again, it will be too soon.”
“You have to eat something, don’t you?”
“I had a big breakfast, I’ll be fine.”
“Your loss. We’ll have two lobster rolls with coleslaw and a couple of cans of lemonade,” she said.
“Make that water,” I corrected. “And perhaps throw in a backup hot dog…”
While Jake fetched our lunch and Flo played with Hazel, I took a seat at the prime picnic table overlooking the bay.
The day was still, and the sound of gulls carried across the cliffs.
Tina’s letter was burning a hole in my pocket.
Since Flo was distracted, I eased it out of its envelope again.
As I reread it, I noticed new details. Gemma from my meetings has met a guy online…
I’d skimmed over it before, but this time I noticed the word meetings.
Meetings? As in Narcotics Anonymous meetings?
But wouldn’t she have told me if she was going to meetings again?
“Here you go.” Jake broke me out of my thoughts, sliding a tray with a bunch of red baskets onto the table.
“You made fries and onion rings,” I blurted, surprised. I hid the letter under the table.
He looked uncomfortable. “Don’t get weird about it. I just felt like fries,” he said as he sat down opposite me. His knees brushed mine under the table. I glanced up, wondering if he’d felt the zap of electricity like I had.
His gaze met mine. His blue-green eyes turned hazy, and my stomach rolled a lazy somersault. He had felt it.
“It’s a feast!” Flo declared, joining us, breaking the tension.
“Hold on, kid. You need to go wash your hands if you’ve been petting the dog and cat.” He pointed at the store. “There’s soap and a towel in the kitchen. Go wash up but don’t touch the fryer—that hot oil is dangerous.” Jake passed me a bottle of water and put a can of Moxie in front of Flo’s spot.
“She wanted—”
“I know,” he cut me off. “Hush and don’t spoil the joke.” His double dimples dented, showing his amusement. Hazel barked. Jake sighed and went to untie her and bring her over to the picnic table. Then he muttered under his breath about his sister being slow to pick up the damn dog.
“How come you don’t want to keep her?” I asked. “She seems like a nice dog. And she likes you.” That was an understatement—she was giving him the most adoring look.
He grunted. “I’m not ready.”
“Oh.” I hazarded a guess. “Those pictures inside, of the golden retriever. That was your last dog?”
He hid behind his plastic sunglasses—black and orange ones today, with the price sticker actually on the lens. “Ben. He died in March. He was old.” Jake seemed relieved when Flo came skipping back.
“I love onion rings,” she chattered, reaching for a handful. Then she spotted the orange can. “Hey!” She picked it up and shook it at Jake. “I hate Moxie.”
“Not anymore you don’t,” he said, eating a fry. “You’re a Mainer now. You’ll love it.”
“Mom’s a Mainah too,” Flo said, copying his accent. “She can drink it.” She parked the shook-up can in front of me.
“No, she’s not. She’s still from away. But you—you’re a kid, so you get to be a Mainer. Adults have to live here for a few decades before we decide they’re no longer from away.”
Flo shook her head at him.
Jake gently removed the Moxie can from in front of me. We both knew it would explode the moment someone cracked it open after the shaking Flo had given it.
In my entire life, I’d never eaten lobster before.
I figured it would taste like crabsticks, and it kind of did, but it was a million times better.
Jake’s place looked rough and ready, but his food was excellent.
The bread from Doris’s was toasted crisp on the outside but was fluffy and soft on the inside; the mayonnaise and scallions were the perfect contrast to the lobster itself, which was fresh and delicious and not fishy at all.
“That’s gross,” Flo decided, sliding her lobster roll my way and reaching for the hot dog and more onion rings.
“Lucky your mom likes it,” Jake said, sounding pleased. His double dimple had reappeared.
“Do you open for weekends all year?” I asked, eyeing the second roll and wondering if I could fit it in.
Jake laughed. “God no. You should see this place in the winter. It’s like an ice planet.
Blows a gale, gets buried in snow, and everything that’s not buried is frozen solid.
I close up the lobster shack just after Halloween.
Until then, we get tourists staying in the campground on weekends, popping out to see the fall color and enjoy some last seaside air before winter.
But after October, there’s no one. Even most of the locals head off on vacation.
Last year Alan and Roger went to Greece for a bit, and Elton went to stay with his kids in Massachusetts. ”
“Are we going to be the only people here?” I asked, chagrined, not liking the thought. I imagined Oxeye empty except for us. It would be like living in a ghost town.
“No. Josie at the library stays. She prefers to take vacation in July. Colleen at the café usually sticks around, and so does old Tom at the gas station. And I’ll be here. Mostly. I might go to my sister’s place for Christmas, though.”
I heard Hazel whine and glimpsed Jake’s hand slipping under the table to toss her a fry. He caught me looking and scowled.
“Found anything interesting in the old house?” he asked, pushing the puppy away as she tried to lick his hand.
“It’s all interesting,” I admitted, “there’s just so much of it. Flo keeps finding all these cats.”
His eyebrows shot up and he glanced at Debussy, who jumped down from the neighboring picnic table.
“Porcelain cats, crystal cats, wooden cats.” Flo had lined them all up on the little desk in her room.
“I have a cat count,” Flo said through a mouthful of hot dog. “Twenty-seven cats so far.”
Jake seemed relieved that we were only talking about figurines, which made me nervous. Was there another Debussy around?
“I found records too.” Flo proceeded to tell him about them in detail. “There’s a heap by this guy called Eddie Fisher.”
“You know he was Princess Leia’s dad,” Jake told her. He reached down and took hold of Hazel’s collar as Debussy stalked closer, drawn by the smell of lobster.
“No, he wasn’t. Darth Vader was Princess Leia’s dad.”
“I mean the actress. Eddie Fisher was Carrie Fisher’s dad. She played Princess Leia.”
“How do you know that?” Flo seemed impressed.
“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “I’m fond of useless facts, I guess.”
“Well, there’s a heap of Eddie Fisher records, and a heap of Elvis records.”
“They might be worth something.”
“I know.” She gave him a look and then explained the whole concept of mint condition to him and how she needed to find out if the Elvis records were mint before listing them to sell online.
Jake listened patiently. “Well, you know what might be easier than selling them online? There’s a store on Main Street in Camden that specializes in vinyl, CDs, and cassettes.”
“What’s a cassette?”
Jake explained it to her.
“Oh, cool. Maybe I’ll find some of them in the house too.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised.” He glanced at me. “If you’re interested, I can introduce you to Sammy, who runs the store. She’s always on the lookout for new stock.”
“That would be great,” I admitted. I’d been feeling a low-level dread at the thought of supervising Flo selling things online.
“But we can’t sell any of it yet, not until I’ve checked it out,” Flo said hastily. “And we need you to fix the wireless radio to do that, Jake.”
“You don’t have another record player you can use?”
“Nope,” said Flo.
Jake sighed. “Listen, Flo, those things are impossible to fix—the electrics are too old. Even if it was fixable, it would be way out of my league. But I think there might be a portable record player in the front room. I remember seeing it.”
“There is?” Flo lit up. “I didn’t see one.”
“It looks like a little suitcase with a handle. But it will need fixing too. I know for sure you’ll need a new needle.”
“Can you come do that?”
“When?”
“Today,” Flo said, as though it had been patently obvious. “After you close the store. Mom can feed you dinner.”
I gave her a sour look. I had so much to do before Monday. I didn’t need to be feeding our local hardware proprietor.
“You don’t have to do that,” Jake said hurriedly.
“Yes, we do,” Flo assured him. “It’s the least we can do.”
“Is it?” That came out before I could think.
Jake seemed to be repressing a smile, judging by the way his mouth hooked up in the corner. “Well, I’ll have to go buy a needle for you. So that’s probably worth dinner. What’s for eating?” he asked Flo, throwing me a playful glance.
“Macaroni and cheese,” Flo told him.
“Since when?” I said sharply.