Chasing Sunsets (9 page)

I called Heather as soon as I got back to the house to tell her about seeing Steven after twenty-four years.

“You sound like a schoolgirl.”

I sat cross-legged at the head of my bed. “Don’t be silly. I’m just excited that I have an actual date. And one Charlie can’t bully.”

“Did he tell you what happened after the two of you had your summer of love? About him and his . . . wife?”

I gritted my teeth just as Max sauntered into the room then landed with a plop on the floor. “Max sends his best,” I teased in an attempt to change the subject.

“So he did or he didn’t?”

“No. Maybe I’ll ask him about her tomorrow night.” I jutted my chest for a semblance of bravado. “I’ll throw in a question or two about his divorce too.”

“That should make for interesting conversation.” I could hear the frown on Heather’s face.

“Change of subject . . . how is everything there?” I’d been listening—as I always did with Heather this time of day—for any slurring of her words, any clinking of ice against glass. So far, I’d heard none. Or, I thought, maybe I’m getting too used to the sound of it all.

“Andre worked late again tonight. No big shock there. Kids are busy as ever and certainly not in need of me hovering over them. I, on the other hand, have started a belly dancing class.”

“A what?”

“For exercise. I just got home . . . Andre nearly flipped because dinner wasn’t on the table. But I say a ham and cheese sandwich never hurt anyone.”

“What time is the class?”

“Six to eight, twice a week.”

I looked at the digital clock on the bedside table. It was nearly ten. “And you’re just now getting home?”

“My new friend Leslie and I went out for a . . . a while afterward.”

Went out for a drink
, she meant to say. But, I reasoned, she didn’t sound drunk . . . or even buzzed. “Oh.”

“Have you talked to the boys?”

“Chase called Monday night, and since then it’s just been texting. I’m going to text them as soon as you and I hang up and see if they’re still up.”

“Go text then. I’m going to go shimmy in front of Andre and see if I can gain his attention in the process.”

The very idea made me grin. “You do that. I’ll call tomorrow for details.” I sat up straight. “Wait! No. No details.”

“Yeah, yeah. You’re the one who better call with details. I want to know why I had to hear you cry for a solid year after your summer—”

“Of love. Yes, I know. Bye, Heather.”

“Bye, sis.”

Chase returned my text wondering if they were still awake with: “Y, C&C r up.”

I’d learned to read the shorthand.
Yes, Chase and Cody are up.

Not wanting Charlie to hear the ring of the phone and possibly interrupt my time with my sons, I texted back:
Call me
.

Seconds later, I heard Cody’s sweet voice. “Hi, Mom.”

“Cody. How’s it going?”

“It’s going good. Dad has us working every day, and I’m pretty tired at night.”

“What kind of work are you doing?” I stretched out on the bed just as Max groaned on the floor beside me. “Oh. Max says hey.”

“Maxey . . .”

“I’ll give him a kiss for you.”

“Okay.” He paused. He moved on to my question. “Just stuff around the business. Nothing big.”

“Like what?”

“Mostly I’m kinda hanging out with Grandpa.”

“I bet Grandpa loves that.”

“I do too.”

I wanted to know more, but Cody was too young and too loyal to spill the information I hoped for. “Where’s Chase?”

“Right here. He’s watching some show on the television Dad put in our room.”

“A television in your room?” A breaking of my rule against too much media in the bedroom. But, I realized, that was my rule, not Charlie’s. I’d wanted us to be a family when we were watching television, not everyone hidden away in their own rooms. Charlie, I thought, only wanted them out of his hair.

“Yeah. Cable and everything.”

“Everything? What does that mean?”

A shuffling on the other end and then I heard, “Hey, Mom.”

“Chase, what did Cody mean ‘and everything’?”

Chase snickered a little. “Nothing. Just that we have a bunch of channels to keep us entertained and out of the way.”

Cody’s sweet voice spoke in the background. “That’s not true, Chase.”

“It is true, Code. You just can’t see it.”

“Chase,” I said. “Talk to me. What’s going on over there?”

“Nothing, really. Dad works all day and gives us enough to do to keep us busy. I like it, actually. I like the work. I can’t see myself doing it the rest of my life, but I like it.”

I sighed. In an odd sort of way, I wanted Chase to tell me that something sinful was happening so I could run into court and prove my case. Then again, I never wanted my sons exposed to any more than they’d already been exposed to by just being children caught in the middle of divorce. “I’m glad to hear that.”

“Did you find someone to clean the house?”

“Not yet, but I have some leads.” It dawned on me then that I hadn’t seen Maddie or her friend at the sunset. Of course, cleaning it was one thing, keeping it up twice a month was another altogether.

“So you’ll be home soon?”

“Should be.”

“You don’t sound too happy about it.”

I sat up. “What do you mean?”

“Well, last time I talked to you, you said you wanted to find someone and get home as soon as possible. But just now you sounded . . . I don’t know . . . kinda disappointed.”

That’s because your mother has a date . . .

“Being in Cedar Key is better than I remembered.”

“I love Cedar Key. I don’t know how you could’ve stayed away so long.”

Shame, I thought. I’d fallen so stupidly in love as an impressionable seventeen-year-old to a boy who had so quickly forgotten me. “Me either,” I answered. “Anyway, I’ll say good night. I love you, Chase.”

“Love you too, Mom.”

A rustle on the other end of the line and then I heard Cody’s voice. “I love you too, Mom.”

“I love you, Code. Sleep tight.”

“Don’t let the bedbugs bite.”

It rained during the night. Not a storm really, but enough that I heard the patter of raindrops on my window. When I let Max out the next morning, the grass was still wet and the air was now thick enough to slice.

After breakfast and a shower I put on a pair of tan cargo pants, a navy scoop-neck cotton blouse, and a pair of leather slide shoes. I ran a brush through the length of my blonde hair then secured it with a navy scrunchie in the center of the back of my head. For the sake of it, I swished the ponytail a few times and felt the tickle of hair against the bare skin between my shoulders. I felt like a teenage girl again.

I left Max after telling him I would be back soon. “Mind the store, will ya?” I asked him. He panted at me, then curled up near the window where the sunlight fell on the floor.

While I thought it would be easy to find the realty office where Rosa worked, it wasn’t. After enough time to find
anything
in Cedar Key, I parallel parked on the opposite side of Dock Street’s shops and restaurants, just across from a gift shop called Dilly Dally Gally. The windows were decorated well enough to entice me to stop in the shop for the heck of it. But a quick glance from the dashboard clock to the storefront sign told me it hadn’t opened yet.

When I got out of the car, my eyes automatically cut toward the Gulf waters and, in particular, to Steven’s father’s dock. The corner of my lips twitched when I saw that no one—and nothing—was there.

The aroma of hot brewing coffee mixed with the scent of salt and marsh turned my head in the opposite direction. A small café boasting a Big-Bird-yellow shingle and a red neon “open” sign in the window beckoned me. I stepped between the slow-moving traffic and opened the door to the heavenly scent of coffee beans, fried eggs, and warm bread. Several people sat in the café area to the left, a few of them reading the morning news. A table of four chatted about the antics of the evening before. One woman sat in the back, staring out the window toward Atsena Otie. A mug of coffee stood forgotten in the center of the soda shop table between her and the pane of glass.

“Good morning.”

I turned my attention to the counter where, on the other side, a pretty woman just a few years older than me stood. She wore her long blonde hair pulled tight in a ponytail, which hung from the loop of her white Kona Joe’s baseball cap. Her smile was as bright as the white tee she wore under a multi-colored apron.

“Good morning,” I said.

“Hungry?”

“No . . . well, the coffee smells marvelous.”

“How about an iced mocha latte?”

With the increasing heat outside, to sit inside with such a suggestion was better than anything I could come up with. “Sounds perfect.”

The woman set about preparing my coffee. “Vacationing?” she asked.

I opened the change purse I’d brought with me and pulled out a few dollars. “Not really. My father owns a house here, and I’m trying to find someone to clean it when no one is here.”

The woman placed a plastic cup of iced coffee on the countertop between us and gave me the price, then said, “Eliana must have taken care of it before.”

“Yes,” I said, handing her wilted bills. “Keep the change.” I took a sip through the straw and said, “Oh my.”

The smile showed approval. “Good, huh?”

“Better than good.”

“I’m Edie, by the way.”

“Kimberly . . . Kim Claybourne Tucker.”

“Dr. Claybourne’s daughter?”

I nodded as I took another sip, then said, “Do you know where Rosa—Eliana’s daughter—has her realty office?”

“Of course. It’s between the Historical Society building and the Baptist Church on 2nd. Easy to miss if you aren’t looking for it.”

“And even if you are.”

The sound of chimes behind me indicated others were entering the café. “I’ll go have a seat,” I said. “Thanks for the information.”

I chose a table near the back window even though the sunlight blasting through caused it to be the warmest spot in the room. Overhead, ceiling fans were motionless. The woman who’d been looking out the window turned to look at me. “Hello,” I said.

“Morning.”

I sat. “Quite a few here.”

“I come here every morning just to stare out at the water and the land. The fishermen. The gulls and the herons and the pelicans. Put them all together and they center me.”

I smiled at her words, then turned toward a rack of photography gift cards standing near the door leading to the back deck of Adirondack chairs and footrests painted with pink flamingos over parrot-green slats. Over them, wind socks swayed and twirled in the Gulf breeze. I took another sip of coffee, then stood and walked over to the display. Each card held an artistic image of life in Cedar Key. I pulled out one, which was of a sailboat in front of the bows of two others docked at the marina in the glow of early morning sunlight, and studied it.

“That’s from over at the marina,” the woman said.

“Yes,” I said with a nod.

I replaced the card and removed another one. “That one is from over there on Atsena Otie.”

I turned and looked at the woman. She seemed so small. She wore white shorts—which seemed all the whiter by the tan of her thin legs—and a yellow sleeveless tee. Her short salt-and-pepper hair framed her face. Her eyes were green, greener still against the backdrop of the water. She wore an expression I well knew. “You took these, didn’t you?” I asked.

“I did.”

“They’re great.” I returned the card and turned the display to view others. “What do you shoot with?”

“Just a point and shoot. I don’t have anything fancy.”

“But you have an eye . . .”

“Always shoot toward the light, I say. Keep your eye on the light and everything else will fall into place.”

I pulled a few cards then and said, “So you sell these?”

The woman nodded. “My name is Anne.”

“Well, Anne . . . do I pay you or Edie?”

“Edie.” She blinked then added, “What do you shoot with?”

“What?”

“Your camera.”

“Oh, I don’t have . . . how did you know?”

“You asked me what I shoot with. Only camera buffs and serious photographers use that terminology. Otherwise you would have just asked me what kind of camera I have. Even that would have been a giveaway. Most people don’t know to ask.”

I looked down at the short stack of cards now in my hand. “I haven’t taken any photographs in a while.” Then I looked up and smiled. “But these are impressive, Anne. Thank you.”

I left after paying for the cards, returned to my car, and headed toward 2nd and E Streets. Edie was correct when she said that if I wasn’t looking for the realty office, I wouldn’t find it. It was safely tucked behind a white picket fence and a blanket of shrubbery. I parked the car, then walked up the steps of the expansive front porch.

A hot cross breeze blew from end to end, causing the clusters of white wicker front porch rockers to sway back and forth and the large baskets of hanging ferns to wave in the sunlight. Overhead, the narrow boards of the porch ceiling were sky blue and had fluffy cumulus clouds painted on them. It was the next best thing to being in the open.

The bronze placard to the right of the front door was as unassuming as the location. A plate with “Come On In” engraved on it was adhered to the white wooden door. I knocked anyway.

“Come on in!” the voice of a woman ordered.

I opened the door by way of an old brass knob. It squeaked in response.

A woman who appeared to be in her thirties sat on the other side of an L-shaped desk in a room that had, at one time, served as the living room of someone’s home. Sixteen-by-twenty glossy photographs of Cedar Key landmarks were framed and hung on burnt orange walls trimmed with cream-colored baseboards and ornate crown molding. “Can I help you?”

I discreetly wiped at the sweat beading over my lips. “I’m looking for Rosa Fuentes.”

“Do you have an appointment?” she asked.

The air seemed to go still around me. The scent of vanilla from a burning candle on a small table across the room and near the sitting area made me feel lightheaded and unsure of myself. “No,” I said. “I’m an old friend.”

“Your name?”

“Kimberly Tuck—Kimberly Claybourne.”

The woman stood. I watched her as she walked out of the room, past open eight-panel glass French doors, which led into another room, and then disappeared around a corner to the right. I stood listless for a moment, then walked to the sitting area. I sat on the contemporary winter white sofa splayed with an assortment of brightly colored throw pillows. I felt the cushions envelop me, but I didn’t sit back. I crossed my ankles and kept my back straight. A moment later the woman returned and said, “Rosa said to come on back.”