Page 13 of Summer People
I take the turn that leads down to the ferry docks and spot a woman sitting on a rocking chair on the deck of the inn. The island is quiet, empty, though I’m sure once Memorial Day hits, the chairs on that deck will all be filled. The woman waves to me, and I wave back, already feeling a bit lighter.
Close-knit community. This is what I came for. Neighbors who say hello, a small grocery store where the people shopping all know one another and chat about what they’re making for dinner, adorable coffee shops with specially made treats.
As the pier comes into view—along with a cluster of bags on the wooden planks—I hasten my steps. Could my luggage have already been delivered?
The water in the inlet where the ferry docks thrashes angrily, sending a chill through me. I’m glad I don’t have to be out on the ocean today.
As I get closer, I inspect the bags, and when I don’t spot my luggage, I shrug and head into the tiny store that sits beside the dock, hopeful that I’ll find breakfast and caffeine.
The older woman behind the counter looks up, eyes bright, when the bell above the door announces my arrival.
“Cank,” she hollers, “we have a visitor!”
Smiling, I glance at the menu written on a chalkboard above her head.
Coffee
Orange Juice
Egg
Seasonal Fruit
Muffins
Hm. What doeseggmean? Can I just ask for it any way I want it? And what kind of fruit is in season?
“What can I get you?” the woman asks, her New England accent thick as she slides the pen from behind her ear.
“Um, I’ll take a sugar-free venti caramel macchiato with two pumps of syrup, one pump of cream.”
The woman blinks, pen held an inch from her pad. “We’ve got coffee.”Caffee. Like taffy with a C.
Heat creeps into my cheeks. “I’ll take whatever you have.”
“Milk and sugar?” She grabs a white mug. I’m guessing they don’t have to-go cups. “Real sugar.” She gives me a toothy grin. “None of that unsweetened kind.”
I laugh, praying she can’t see how red my face is, and nod. “Sure, coffee with milk and sugar sounds great.”
The door behind her swings open and the dock master from yesterday appears. Despite the chill in the air, he’s only got a white T-shirt on beneath his overalls.
Just looking at him makes me shiver. Though I can’t help but feel affection for the virtual stranger as well after he was kind enough to tell me where to leave my luggage and to point me in the direction of my house last night.
“Ms. Sweet. Good to see you.”
I give him a genuine smile. “You as well.”
“Did my wife offer you a muffin? You should take a few home. The grocery store doesn’t open until this afternoon.”
He snaps open a small paper bag and shoves three or four muffins into it.
“How’s the house? Everything in working order?”
“Everything’s great.” I frown. “Well, except I have no hot water.”
“Ah, the pilot must have gone out.” He pushes the bag into my hands.
“The pilot?”
