Page 15 of Love & Lattes at The Mermaid Cafe
“It’s an honor just to participate,” I say, chuckling a little. “You’ve got quite a collection of goods here.” As varied as the items in his window.
There was the expected crank phonograph and a spinning wheel for wool, items I’d seen in many an antique store that Emilia had dragged me to when she was alive. My gaze wanders to dozens of mismatched china plates and tea cups. Figurines galore. Toy metal cars of all shapes and sizes. But there were also items specific to Oregon and the seafaring life—a logger’s saw, a ceramic rendition of Bigfoot, a small, carved wooden boat, a framed nautical map with “There be Monsters” labeled over the deepest parts of the sea.
“I’m a collector. From a long line of collectors.” Wade tossed his white locks over his shoulders. “I buy, trade or barter, just as my father and my father before him did.”
“Wade’s shop is popular among designers up and down the coast because he carries the unusual,” Lena explains. “His knick-knacks are used to decorate mansions everywhere.”
“Not to mention, I also sell affordable souvenirs of Mermaid Bay.” Wade shakes out a gray woven blanket with a mermaid on it. “And if you don’t need a blanket, I’ve also got mermaid T-shirts and pelican key chains.”
“Also antique?” I ask, already knowing the answer is no.
“Alsounique.” Wade chuckles. He is a man in good spirits. “We should probably get down to business. I’ve got a riddle for you, Cade. Round and round and round I go. When I stop, then you’ll know. What am I?”
An alarm clock would be an excellent answer but I doubt it is the correct one. I move through the shop, creaking floors documenting my every move. There’s a milk bottle full of sea glass, their variations in color drawing my eye. A rack of clothing in the back has a variety of items that can’t help me, although I stop to admire the black tuxedo and a black sequined cocktaildress. I picture Lena and I wearing them, strolling into one of my favorite restaurants back in San Francisco before heading on to the opera. Her legs would look like they went on for miles in this dress.
Not that I like opera. But the destination fits the wardrobe and the image makes me smile.
I pass by a display of nautical paraphernalia, what I imagine are the tools a sailor way back when would use to traverse the Pacific Ocean from the Oregon coast to trade in Russia, China, or Japan. On the next shelf, there’s a display of old hiking equipment. Field glasses, a canteen, a compass…
I pick up the compass. I haven’t held one since I was a kid. But I remember being fascinated by the fact that wherever I turned, the compass always pointed north.
Wherever I turned…
“Round and round and round I go.” I turn slowly in a circle. “Where I stop, then I’ll know…which way is north.” I hold up the compass for Wade to see.
He grins.
And behind him, Lena smiles.
Our gazes connect.
And I wish the compass pointed toward her.
Chapter Eleven
Lena
We walk away from the Rusty Anchor with Cade carrying his prize—a medium-size bottle with a cork stopper.
“What am I supposed to do with these things?” Cade drops his wooden coin and wooden heart into the bottle, sealing it with the cork and then tucking it in his jacket pocket.
I know the answer but Cade isn’t supposed to know until later. But I’ll only tell himifhe answers all the riddles and challenges.
I’m beginning to believe he’ll master them all. I’m beginning to believe I should have had someone else give him the tour. It’s all I can do not to reach for his hand as the winter wind buffets us.
“Where do we go next?” Cade stops and looks at me. His eyes are a clear brown. But nothing about him is clear to me anymore.
I want to tell him there’s no point in continuing. I want to go back inside the Rusty Anchor and tell Wade I need him to take over my duties as tour guide so that my heart remains intact.But…my heart doesn’t seem to want protection. And while I’m having an argument with myself about continuing as Cade’s guide or not, his cell phone rings and he answers.
“Yes, Dad.” Cade moves away, his tone unusually conciliatory, his shoulders bending to the wind. Or to his father’s will. Or both. “I know. I’m here now. Everything is as I promised you.”
Everything?
His shoulders may be bent, but mine thrust back.
“Yes, I can do this. I’ll debrief you tonight.” Cade hangs up and turns to me. “Sorry. That was my dad. Where to next?”
“There’s no need to continue.” I don’t recognize my voice. It’s tone is a blend of ice and hurt. “Your mind is made up.” I head toward the pier and the Mermaid Café, feeling as if we’re breaking up.
