Blue Jeans and Coffee Beans (16 page)

This is real. When she closes her eyes, there is only his touch, his embrace, his skin beneath her fingers, his kiss. As her fingers glance his face and touch his neck, their kiss deepens. But only for a moment, only until Jason pulls away with a long breath and takes her face in both his hands. He looks like he wants to say how glad he is that she isn’t leaving tomorrow. He looks like he wants to take their kiss somewhere else, to a place with no intrusions, no history, no conflict.

The ride begins to slow, the scenery outside becomes clear.

“Shh.” He puts a finger gently over her lips. “Don’t say anything.” His thumb strokes her cheek. “I’m sorry,” he says, his face still close.

“Sorry?” His kiss had been the sweetest one she’d ever received.

He sits back. “You’re dealing with something serious in your life, and you’re involved with someone else.” His hands drop to hers, his fingers lighting on the diamond. “I’m not being fair to you.”

Maris takes his hands, wincing at the sight of her diamond. Beyond Jason’s shoulder, the dancing horses come to a stop beneath the rays of twinkling lights. She looks up at him, at his face, seeing the faded scar there, wondering what just happened between them. When she starts to talk, he stops her.

“Don’t.” He shakes his head quickly. “Just let it go.” He lifts her hands and presses his lips to them before standing and helping her out of the chariot. “It’s okay,” he says as she steps off the carousel.

Wait
! she wants to insist. They’d kissed.
What happened?
her mind cries. But when they move out of the deep shade of the pavilion into the sunshine of the park, it all feels like a daydream. The fantasy of sitting close in an opulent chariot with the gentle breeze on a warm summer day is over. Walking across the green grass, past wooden benches set around a large flower garden, her heart breaks.

“Ready to head back?” He glances at her while fiddling with his keys.

As though nothing has happened. Maris nods and they walk side by side, not touching. She watches him slowly roll back his shirt sleeves in the heat. His gait seems tired, too, so his leg bothers him now.

“How about that ice cream?” she asks, trying to smooth over the unease. If they can just get back what they started their excursion with. Something about the afternoon, some hope, stayed behind with the horses and cabbage roses and music, fading further with each step.

.

Chapter Thirteen

W
hat’s the name of this antique shop?” Eva asks when Maris exits the highway in Addison.

“Circa 1765. I noticed it last week and thought we could find something for your decorating. It’s so pretty, and right near a covered bridge. I just have to stop at the jewelers first.”

“The jewelers? Why?”

“I’ve gotten things there, growing up. Earrings and a gemstone ring.”

“Ooh, you’re buying something?”

“Not buying. Just sizing.”

“Sizing? You’re all a mystery today. Sizing what?”

Maris smiles and drives down along Old Main Street toward the cove, past historic ship captain homes with widow walk cupolas, past a landscape nursery overflowing with tiny shrubs and flats of impatiens and marigolds, past the Whole Latte Life coffee shop opposite The Green. Towering oak trees shade an ice cream parlor and a bridal boutique selling vintage and antique gowns, alongside a local jeweler. She parks the car at The Green, reaches into her purse and slips on the engagement ring from Scott, extending her hand for Eva to see.

“You got a diamond?” Eva asks, taking Maris’ hand in hers. “Whoa, this is gorgeous.”

“Thanks.”

“When did this happen?” Eva turns Maris’ hand, studying the stone.

“A couple weeks ago. Scott actually surprised me by sending it with my laptop.”

Eva looks up from the ring. “And you didn’t tell me? Uh-oh. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, really.” Maris pulls her hand back. “This is pretty big stuff, and I had to let it sink in. But I think I’m ready to wear it now. Really.”

“Oh, I’m so happy for you! I know Scott missed your dad’s funeral, but these things happen, Maris. It seems like he’s really serious.”

“He is.” Maris thinks of the two-week window of time he gave her, two more weeks at the place she loves more and more each day. With a deep breath, she says, “We’ve waited a long time to do this, so I guess I’m finally engaged.” She holds out her arm, looking at the diamond. “But the ring’s too big and I want to get it sized at the jeweler here. And I didn’t tell you because you’d get too excited.”

“
Too
excited? It
is
exciting!”

“Yeah, but you’d have me walking out of that wedding shop there with a gown in hand if you had your way.”

They get out of the car into the early Saturday morning sunlight. People walk with their coffees on The Green, past barrels of zinnias and geraniums around a stone wishing fountain sending shining silver droplets into a high plume of water. The water sparkles like starlight in the summer sun and Maris thinks they’ll stop and make a wish afterward.

“Well,” Eva says as they cross the street. “We can at least go in and look at the gowns, can’t we? You might see something you like.”

Maris eyes the bridal mannequins in the window, one wearing a deep-v gown with sheer lace bell sleeves. Another vintage dress, cream silk taffeta, is covered with silver beads and mother of pearl paillettes reminiscent of the star constellations she brought to her latest denim designs. That gown catches her eye, shimmering with celestial wonder and wishes both.

“Maybe after. Let me drop off the ring first.”

She opens the door to the jeweler and they walk into the small, hushed shop. Green carpet with gold swirls spreads before them in a room lined with glass cases of treasures, each case edged with an old burnished brass trim. A crystal chandelier hangs from the center of the ceiling. And she thinks that it’s not the gemstones and gold that are the treasures. It’s what they signify that bring riches into our lives. The anniversary necklace hanging on a thin gold chain, a woman’s eyes tear-filled as her husband clasps it; the sterling silver charm bracelets collecting happy memories with each little heart or seashell or flower charm; the birthstone earrings commemorating the month of one’s arrival here on this earth; the wedding rings and graduation watches.

What charm, or jewel, would signify the precious and valuable images she found in that home movie? The loss it revealed is strong enough to drive her to search for even a hint of it. Yesterday she slid her hand over every single closet shelf and inside every cabinet drawer in her old family home, twice, turning up nothing except a few dusty knickknacks. Until she knows more, she’s hesitant to tell even Eva. Because there’s also a what-if? What if she’s wrong about the whole idea?

One of the jewelers asks to help them and Maris shows him the diamond ring.

“Well, congratulations! And when’s the big day planned?”

“We haven’t really set a date yet.”

“But soon, soon,” Eva adds.

“I’m still getting used to being engaged,” Maris begins, “and I guess it would help if the ring fit better. I brought another ring that fits perfectly. Can we match that size?”

“Possibly. Which hand do you wear that ring on?” he asks of a citrine gemstone ring she shows him along with the diamond ring.

“My right.”

“Each finger can be a different size,” he explains. “So let’s measure first.” He thumbs through a set of steel gauge rings. “Then we’ll measure the citrine on the mandrel to find the right match.”

They agree on a comfortable fit and the jeweler wraps the ring and sets it in an envelope. “We’ll call you when it’s ready. It might take four or five days, is that okay?”

When she turns to leave, the crystal chandelier sparkles above her and all Maris suddenly sees are thousands of twinkling lights streaming out over carousel horses, seeming like stardust when Jason kissed her in the chariot. His arm folded her close as the kiss deepened, as the music played, as time and motion blended into one.
It’s okay
, he’d said afterward, after apologizing for giving her that sweet summer kiss on a beautiful old carousel on a hot July afternoon. As she walks through the door to the summer day outside, she hesitates and glances back at the jeweler turning away with her ring.

The orders keep coming.
Out of sight, out of mind,
Jerry told Kyle before he left. A glance at the clock tells him that Jerry would be in Maine right about now, way out of sight and too far away to help. He reaches for the next lunch slip clipped on the order rack. Rob works the other stove. He comes in during peak hours, the same way Kyle had over the years. Rob is second-in-command today. Now Kyle knows the difference between first and second. First is the host, these are his guests.

He opens his eyes wide and focuses on the order clipped in front of him, wiping his hands on the thick white apron as he reads the standard fare: grilled cheese with tomato, plain grilled cheese and a BL, no T, circled and underlined twice with a smiley face beside it. He backs up from the stove and scans the diner until he spots Lauren sitting in the middle booth at the window. He knew it. Hailey hates tomatoes on her sandwich. They stopped in on the way to the cottage, and the kids are coloring their placemats while they wait for the food.

Kyle shoves the order in his pants pocket. “Rob, I’ll be right back, okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good here,” Rob says from the other stove, dishes lined up on the warming tray in front of him.

Kyle goes into the back office, lifts the apron over his head and tosses it over the chair. From the shelf on the wall, he pulls a new tee from a package and takes a long, deep breath. It takes only one quick move to peel off his damp shirt, mop his face, slip the new shirt over his head and put his apron back on. He tosses the old shirt into the trash and goes back to the stove.

“How’s this for service?” he asks when he carries out their plates. “The boss delivers.”

“Daddy! Are you eating too?” Evan asks.

“I’ll have a bite of yours.” He slips into the seat with Lauren. “You guys ready to hit the beach?”

“Mom says we can’t swim today,” Hailey says. “Because we have to unpack and clean the cottage first.”

Kyle glances at Lauren beside him as she takes a bite of her grilled cheese. Faint shadows are visible beneath her eyes. “Mom’s busy today. You two be sure to help her out,” he orders very seriously. “Whatever she says, you listen.”

“We will,” they answer while chewing and picking at French fries, all while leaning half over the table, their feet scooted beneath them.

“You have to blow up our tubes,” Evan says as he tries to uncap the ketchup bottle.

Kyle takes the bottle from him. “Okay, buddy. Leave them out for me tonight.”

“I couldn’t fit all the boxes in the car and left some in the garage,” Lauren says. She dips a corner of her sandwich into the ketchup Kyle just poured onto her plate.

“I’ll bring them down tonight.” He watches her pull off a piece of crust.

“Are we going crabbing tomorrow?” Evan asks. “We need bait.”

“We’ll see.” He has to be at the diner at the crack of dawn. “I’m spending the night for the kids’ sake,” he says under his breath. When he sees Lauren nod, he pours a maze of ketchup over Evan’s fries. “I’ve got to get back to the kitchen. We’re mobbed.” He starts to stand, but sits again and touches her arm. “I’ll help you unpack tonight,” he says into her hair as he leans over and kisses the side of her head. “You look tired.”

He slides out of the booth, but before walking away, stops at the end of the table, rests his open hands on it and leans over low. Grease from the big stove had spattered his chef apron.

“Hey,” he says. His kids look at him for a long second, mid-chew. “Where’s my kiss?” he finally asks.

They climb all over themselves, stretching up to plant greasy French fry kisses on his face.

“That’s better.”

Eva and Maris walk into the kitchen a couple hours later to see Matt leaning against the counter wearing a pair of cargo shorts, Yankees shirt and old work boots, loosely laced, his arms crossed in front of him.

“What’s up?” Eva asks, setting her purse down. “I thought you were scraping paint with Jason.”

“I was. But I got a call and had to leave.”

“This doesn’t sound good,” Maris says. She and Eva both cautiously sit at the mahogany pedestal table Eva found in the shop in Westcreek.

“It’s not. One of the beach guards called me. Nick. He caught Taylor and her friends vandalizing.”

“What?” Eva asks. “She’s at soccer with Alison.”

Matt shakes his head no. “She lied, there’s no soccer today. She and Alison were with a couple boys spray painting a fish or dragon or something on the big boulder up at Little Beach.”

“Taylor was?” Maris asks.

“All of them guilty as charged,” Matt answers, grabbing a red plum from the fridge.

“Oh, those little shits,” Eva says. “Where is she?”

“Calm down,” Matt tells her. “She’s upstairs and knows damn well she’s screwed.”

“And so grounded,” Eva adds.

“Evangeline.” Matt looks long at her while polishing the plum on his shirt. “Like we never horsed around on the beach?”

“Not really. At least not doing any harm to anything.”

“What do you call stealing that boat?” Matt asks, sitting across from them at the table. “They’re just being kids. So go easy on her, okay?”

“Wait,” Maris interrupts. “What did you call her?”

Matt bites into the juicy plum. “Call who?”

“Eva.”

“Evangeline,” he says around a mouthful.