Читать книгу Secrets At the Cove - Honey Perkel - Страница 9

Marcia Stevens was standing at the front desk taking a reservation when Caroline entered the restaurant. Marcia’s slender frame was dressed in a pair of black crepe slacks and a backless top, a single strand of pearls about her neck. Simple and elegant; Caroline regarded her with approval.

Caroline cared about all her employees. Marcia, who recently married, had been with Annie Rose’s since it opened the previous year. She was a good worker, friendly, with a beautiful smile — all must-haves for a charming restaurant hostess. Up until last month, she’d been the perfect employee. Prompt, never giving Caroline a moment of worry. Then she’d shown up at work one day with extra make-up applied under her left eye. Though Marcia had done her best, she couldn’t completely hide an obvious bruise. On another day, Marcia simply had not reported to work. Now, Caroline was concerned. She was keeping an eye on her.

Marcia nodded at her boss as she scribbled down a name and time in the reservation book, her voice pleasant on the telephone. Caroline gave her a quick wave in greeting, and scanned the attractive dining room. The space was already crowded, buzzing with luncheon guests. Gentle music nearly obscured the soft din of conversation and tinkle of crystal and silver. She recognized many locals who frequented the restaurant, including Robert and Laura, an elderly couple who dined there twice a week. Laura looked especially lovely today, Caroline thought, dressed in a navy pantsuit with a large gold neck chain and matching dangle earrings. Robert wore a sport shirt and tie and a smartly cut navy blazer.

There wasn’t a particular dress code at Annie Rose’s. A tourist here for the weekend would not be likely to bring a cocktail dress or suit, but most patrons acknowledged the fact that Annie Rose’s was a cut above other eateries in Seaside, and dressed accordingly. However, if an occasional customer entered the restaurant in blue jeans or khakis, he was welcomed just the same.

Joe and Lisa Cramer sat at a table along the front row of windows. At a neighboring table, sat Michael and Janice Teller. And a young couple Caroline didn’t know sat enjoying their rib-eye steaks and salads. Probably tourists, she guessed, as she knew most of the locals who patronized the restaurant.

Caroline studied the reservation book for a moment, and noticed Robert and Laura were celebrating their forty-eighth wedding anniversary today, which explained their taking extra care with their appearance. Turning, she entered the large stainless kitchen to make sure all was running smoothly there, too.

The space was humming with efficiency. Nancy was grilling two thick New York cut steaks and brushing a dark, rich demi-glaze over each. She smiled up at Caroline.

“Hi, honey,” she exclaimed, plating the steaks and spooning golden pilaf and asparagus spears alongside. “Up for table two,” she called out. Donna, the waitress, responded by picking up the plates and whisking them out to the dining room.

Mertle Roe and another staff member were at the side counter tearing leafy salad greens into a huge stainless bowl.

“It’s the Chandler’s forty-eighth wedding anniversary,” Caroline stated. “See that they get a bottle of wine on the house.”

“We’re ahead of you. A bottle is already on its way,” Hilly Brewster called out. She was arranging slivered almonds on top of a luscious Blitz Torte, its baked meringue, creamy custard, and layered yellow cake were beautifully tiered on a glass cake plate.

“Mmmm, that looks nice,” Caroline said, peering over Hilly’s shoulder. Her baking skills were genius. Caroline had been so fortunate to find this woman. For many reasons.

“You’re late today,” Nancy quipped. She worked her knife with deft speed as she chopped shallots into small even bits and added them to the sauté pan for the next order.

“So, fire me. Just as I was leaving, Dog ragged up his breakfast all over the kitchen floor. Bruce was an angel to offer to clean things up, but I didn’t want him to be late for his appointment at the hospital.” Caroline said.

“When does Bruce leave for Medical School?” Mertle asked.

“At the end of the month. I’m going to miss him, but I’m really glad for him. It was a dream he couldn’t pursue long ago. Now, he has a second chance.”

Caroline patted her hands dry on paper toweling, and returned to the dining room to make sure the Chandlers were enjoying their wine.

Then she greeted Sam and Gayle Turner, asking them how their home’s remodeling projects were coming along. Kitchen, bathroom, doubling the size of their bedroom; she couldn’t imagine such an overwhelming endeavor. The couple had been in twice this week since they didn’t have a working kitchen in which to prepare meals.

She continued making her rounds, and introduced herself to the tourists at table number six, a young couple visiting from Victoria, British Columbia, she learned. Then she poured coffee at table numbers eight and three.

* * *

Tilly Jacobs and Molly Bradford were the first in their Tuesday luncheon group to arrive at Annie Rose’s. Marcia seated them at their usual table by the window and offered each a menu, placing two more at the empty place settings for the other expected women. It was only minutes later when Elizabeth Windsor and Iris Grayson joined them, and Marcia returned to announce the daily luncheon specials: lobster and shrimp caesar salad and tenderloin of pork sandwich with caramelized onions and slaw.

“What’s wrong, my dear? You look flushed.” Iris questioned Elizabeth as she settled herself in the chair beside the younger woman.

“I’m fine.” Elizabeth said, placing her starched white napkin on her lap. She took a sip from her glass of cold water. Elizabeth still felt a bit flushed since observing the naked young man outside her window this morning. But, goodness, that was hours ago. Did it still show in her face?

“I’m fine,” Elizabeth repeated, and took another sip of water. She secretly hoped she would see the young man again this afternoon.

Turning her attention to the ladies at the table, Elizabeth focused on the thought of how odd their friendship was. Friendship, if you could call it that. Even after months of meeting each Tuesday, the women had no idea who she was or that she was slowly dying. Elizabeth didn’t trust anyone enough to say a word about her health, and she knew she was deliberately keeping them at a distance.

The women ordered a round of the daily salad specials, Molly’s without salad dressing, as she was starting yet another diet, and Iris’ with double the dressing, and flutes of white wine all around.

Tilly sat quietly. She felt deceitful. As though she were lying. She wished she could open her heart to these women. Tell them the truth about her life. She hadn’t been able to tell the marriage counselor the truth, nor could she tell her friends. The very thought terrified her.

Molly took an envelope from her straw purse and proudly showed the women the latest snapshots of Hope Amelia. The three ladies ooed and ahhed as they passed the pictures of the infant between them. She was certainly a beautiful baby.

“Have you heard anything at all from your husband?” Iris asked as she reached for her glass of wine.

Molly shook her head, concentrating on her salad. If she could open up to anyone, it would be to these women. She felt a connection to them. She believed they cared, but she couldn’t share the truth of what Augie had done.

“Do you think he’d want to know about his daughter?” Iris asked. “I just wonder how a man can walk out on his wife with no explanation. Just disappear. It’s just not right.”

Molly remained silent.

“Well, you’re doing so well without him. You’re strong, my dear. Maybe you don’t need him in your life.”

What would they think if they knew Augie was in prison? Molly wanted to believe these women cared about her, and if she could, she’d pour her heart out to them, but she wasn’t ready.

It wasn’t easy for her to trust another person — she was afraid she’d be judged. She just couldn’t. The embarrassment.

What brought her back here each Tuesday, if she wasn’t going to confide in Elizabeth, Iris, or Tilly? The answer was simple. Molly liked the women. There was something about each one that she admired. Iris’ gentleness. Elizabeth’s talent. Tilly’s solid marriage. She needed these women.

“Are your parents planning to come and see the baby anytime soon?” Elizabeth asked, spearing a piece of poached salmon and taking a bite.

“I’m not sure. They’re going to Denver next week. Dad has a business meeting, and mother is meeting with her agent.”

“It must be exciting having a famous author for a mother,” Iris stated.

Molly smiled. She guessed so. Her mother had written romance novels ever since she could remember. It was all Molly had ever known.

For a few minutes the women ate in silence.

“When is your next art show, Elizabeth?” Iris asked.

“I just received a phone call this morning from Valerie Meyers. She’s the owner of the Seaside Gallery. She’s hoping I will have enough paintings completed for the show on Labor Day weekend.”

Elizabeth popped another bite of salmon into her mouth. “I started on another piece this morning,” she added. The mention of this morning brought a renewed flush to Elizabeth’s pale cheeks.

“How’s Sammy doing?” Molly asked.

“Who’s Sammy?” Tilly put her fork down.

“Sammy is Elizabeth’s dog.”

“I didn’t know Elizabeth had a dog.” She sighed. Tilly preferred not to talk about Molly’s husband or Elizabeth’s dog or Iris’ whatever. She didn’t have the patience. Her life was too distressed for such trivial banter. “Does anyone know of a handyman in the area? Our windows in the bedroom seem to be stuck,” Tilly asked the group.

“Have you heard about Brad Bailey?” Iris Grayson was asking. “There isn’t anything he can’t do. Electrical. Plumbing. Sheet rock. My neighbor, Sophie Craft, had him replace her front porch railing and move some furniture. He also put new siding on Alice Peters’ house.”

“He sounds wonderful,” Tilly agreed, taking a sip from her glass of white wine.

“Is he married?” Molly inquired.

The women laughed.

“Remind me to give you his number before we leave, Tilly.” Iris said eagerly. “I think you’ll find him quite satisfactory.”

Caroline stopped by to make sure everything was all right with the ladies’ lunches. She stayed for a bit of chitchat and then asked if they wished to see the dessert tray. The women all ordered, except Elizabeth. She didn’t feel well enough.

“I’ll have the key lime pie with the raspberry sauce,” Tilly replied, nearly drooling over the delectable choices on the tray. Hilly Brewster was a master when it came to desserts, and they always tasted as good as they looked.

Molly stared at the sweet confections and decided on a slice of apple pie with drizzled raspberry chipolte sauce. Oh well, she’d start her diet again tomorrow. Or maybe next Monday.

Iris ordered the chocolate cake.

“I’m going to stop at Beach Books and pick up a birthday gift for my niece, Chris, on my way back to work,” Tilly announced to the others. “Does anyone want to join me?” Lunch with these women was nearly over, and perhaps another hour or so with them wouldn’t be so bad.

Iris shook her head vigorously. She thought about her garden. She needed to get back to her blooms — deadhead her geraniums, and add a bit more mulch to the soil before calling it quits for the day. Maybe run the vacuum. Maybe not. And feed her cats.

Molly also refused Tilly’s offer. It was important she make her way back to The Gull Cottage Motel and relieve Kathy, an employee who watched the office and Hope Amelia each Tuesday.

Elizabeth hadn’t even heard Tilly’s invitation. Her thoughts had returned to the young surfer she had spied outside her front window. Perhaps if she hurried back to the Loft House, she could catch another glimpse of the handsome man.