Page 21 of Love & Lattes at The Mermaid Cafe
With each step, I hope for clarity. But each step brings none.
The beach is made up of coarse sand and smooth bits of sea glass. The storm has passed and the morning is bright, sunny, and cold. A few people are walking the beach but they are few and far between. This walk is the last thing I plan to do before leaving. There will be no lattes for me this morning. No eel pie. No rotgut shots or riddles.
But instead of getting in my car first thing and heading south on Highway 101, I’m walking the beach. I don’t even realize why until I see it—the bottle I threw into the ocean when Lena left meat the lighthouse last night. It’s laying there half-buried in the sand.
I pick it up, amazed that it hasn’t been broken. That note I penned inside is still dry. I don’t need to take it out to remember the words I wrote.
This is a sign.
My thoughts are no longer jumbled. All is clear. I turn and head toward the Mermaid Café, bottle in one hand, cell phone in the other. My father isn’t expecting my call. Nor is he expecting what I have to say. “I quit.”
“You can’t quit a family business.” Dad’s voice is loud enough that I imagine the seagull in front of me is startled into flight by it. “This is your heritage. Your legacy.”
“It’s yours,” I counter. “It always has been.” I glance back toward the boardwalk, toward old buildings with brick fronts and ancient awnings. “I’m a different man. And I can’t be involved with the business if I can’t do things my way. Not yours.”
“Something’s changed,” Dad says at a lower volume. “You’ve finally become your own man.”
“Yes.” Hopefully, I can grow into being a man Lena can love and be proud of. I’m not sure who that is yet. I only know that man doesn’t work for Delaney Development.
“It’s about time.” Dad’s answer surprises me. But his next words shock me even more. “I’m proud of you, son. And I’m sure whatever you do next will make you proud of yourself, too.”
“I hope so.” I say goodbye and hang up, already heading toward Lena and the Mermaid Café, tucking the sandy bottle into my jacket pocket.
“Here’s Trouble,” Marina says when I enter the small coffee shop.
Lena is behind the counter with Keira. They glance at me. Lena with sorrow. Keira with curiosity.
I step to the counter to place my order. “Vanilla latte, please. And I’d like to request Lena join me at a table outside.” In that bracing wind that makes me feel alive.
No one says a word. Keira rings me up while Lena makes my coffee.
After I pay, I wait at one of the two tables outside, listening to the ocean’s steady pounding. The bottle from my tour sits on the table in front of me.
Lena brings my latte to me in a plain ceramic mug. My foam is plain. Heartless in decoration. “Didn’t I tell you last night to throw that bottle into the ocean?”
“You told me and I did throw it away,” I reassure her. “And then it washed ashore this morning. I found it on the beach.”
Lena stares at the bottle, then at the stretch of shore I’ve just walked. “That’s odd.”
“It is.” I pat the bench next to me. “Sit for a minute.”
Lena hesitates.
“Please,” I add, barely able to hold everything I want to say inside me.
Lena sits next to me but not close. She’s being careful with her heart and I…
Well, I’ve decided not to be so careful with mine. “I’d like you to open the bottle and read the note inside.”
Her brow furrows slightly. “I shouldn’t.” The wind tugs at the strands of her dark brown hair that aren’t captured in a braid.
“I want you to read my note.” I hand her the bottle.
After reluctantly accepting it, Lena removes the cork and draws the rolled slip of paper out. She takes a moment to read it.
I know what it says, reciting the words in my mind as she reads silently.
You don’t have to be a man cast in your father’s image. You can follow your heart. All you need is a sign.
