Читать книгу Secrets At the Cove - Honey Perkel - Страница 8

People lived their lives at Annie Rose’s; I can testify to that. Just north of the cove, the small restaurant was nestled onto the corner of Beach Drive and Avenue U. It stood among older and newer motels turned condominiums, kitty-corner from The Gull Cottage Motel, and one block east of the Pacific Ocean.

From the beginning, Annie Rose’s had been a resounding success. The elegant and trendy eatery in Seaside’s quiet end of town was packed every day and into the night. Reservations were required. Patrons poured out their lives and hearts over steaming bowls of creamy carrot chowder, sizzling thick pepper steaks, and sugar-glazed blueberry tarts. They came to celebrate birthdays, anniversaries, and to enjoy excellent food, great wine, and company.

And, of course, there was more than just the innocent tryst. Much more than that, indeed. How else could it be explained that Evan Fiedler dined at Annie Rose’s every Friday evening with his lovely wife, Joanna, only to arrive with another woman requesting an intimate table every Wednesday evening? One had to wonder. As recently as just this week after the sudden death of Sprout, her twenty-two-year-old feline, Amy Trousse cried her eyes out over a chocolate double mocha. The hot brew made her feel better. Of course, I put my arms around her, and I held her closely, though she hardly noticed. I think that helped, too.

I must say, the thought of a restaurant where my friends and family could gather and be nurtured was a stroke of genius. It made me wish I’d thought of it sixty years ago, but then I wouldn’t have been the clever apparition I am today. It takes years of practice and maturity ... even for a ghost.

I knew the kitchen staff intimately. I knew they shared a secret they never spoke about. They were too busy living their lives in this lifetime to ever dwell on the previous ones, but secrets remained there just the same. Deep inside. Coming to them through dreams and visions that took them to another time and place, but always returned them to Seaside.

Everyone there shared secrets from the past, of being brought back to this small beach town because of their love for a place called Paradise. Whether they remembered it or not. These women were connected, you know, though just how will have to wait.

Was it something in the air or in our hearts that allowed us to fall in love with a place and call it our Paradise? Our true home on earth. A special, magical place where people love to come and hate to leave. Where generations have flocked for one hundred-fifty years to share the good times. To live life to its fullest.

Of course, I had a hand in a lot of what happened around here. In time, I would bring everyone home to this paradise. It was the timing of a life. It had to be like that.