Page 9 of Love & Lattes at The Mermaid Cafe
I sip my black coffee. It’s thick as sludge and so strong my mouth is left dry. “There are few times I’ve found a reputation is well-deserved. But this is one of them.” Dee’s coffee is indeed strong enough to wire someone on caffeine for a long, long time.
Lena smiles. “Her coffee is great when you need to tackle long, unpleasant projects, like cleaning out the storage room.”
I could play along. “Or shredding documents after tax time.”
“Weeding the garden.” Lena sips her coffee.
“Putting up Christmas lights outside.”
Lena sets her coffee mug down. “You don’t put up Christmas lights.”
“I do.”
She shakes her head. “No. You pay someone to do that.”
How did she know me so well? “Okay, I pay someone. But I would do it if I had coffee like this to drink.” I raise my mug and take another bracing sip before studying Lena once more and thinking about kisses. Which only reminds me that my tally is low in her eyes. “Why did you come to Mermaid Bay?” Her comments yesterday implied she wasn’t a native.
Lena stares at her coffee, moves her gaze to the window, then drops it back to her coffee once more. “I’d just signed divorce papers the second time,” she admits slowly, not looking up. “Two divorces in one decade. That isn’t the way life is supposed to be by your thirtieth birthday.”
I nod. “Sadly, I’m familiar with rocky marriages.” A gull swoops past the window and then it’s my turn to look toward the ocean, my thoughts barreling toward the past. “My wife and I… We were naïve.”
“We didn’t know who we were,” Lena murmurs. “I don’t think you do until you approach forty.”
I nod again. “We were too focused on building our careers.” I still am, I suppose. I’ve always wanted to do my dad proud. To finally have him acknowledge me as his equal.
A large wave pounds the shore, a symbolicamen.
“My second marriage came with a ready-made family.” Lena sips her coffee, staring out the window, her expression sad and nostalgic at the same time. “It would be a cop-out to say that hiskids made marriage that much harder. I loved them.” She looks at me with interest. “Do you have children?”
I shake my head. “I have three nieces. I always wanted kids though, if only to have a family that was more like… I don’t know. Maybe like families you see in Hallmark movies?” My sister had made me watch them with her a time or two.
“A family that likes each other?” Lena’s blue eyes sparkle. She looks windblown and beautiful. “Or a partner who loves you enough to be painfully honest with you?”
“Both, I think.” And I imagine she fits the bill.
“Here’s your food.” Dee slides what looks like a pot pie with a side of mashed potatoes in front of me.
Only pot pies never smelled like this. Fishy. Greasy.
My stomach pitches.
“I’ll ask you again.” Dee fixes a stare on me like Santa would when evaluating a child to decide if he should get presents or a lump of coal. “What’s black and green and full of vitamins?”
A crowd gathers behind Dee. Locals, by the look of them. They all seem to know the joke…er, the answer to the riddle. And they also seem to know that whatever the punchline is, it’s on me.
“The answer to your riddle is this pie,” I tell Dee, knowing that isn’t the entire answer but hoping I can get out of eating this foul-smelling concoction.
“In general, you are correct. My ancestors were from jolly old England.” Dee sits next to Lena, nudging her toward the window. “Whew. My sciatica is acting up. Can’t hardly work a full shift anymore.”
“Might be time to retire,” I say swiftly.
“Or not. Everyone has days like that, Dee,” Lena says considerately, before striking me with a warning glance. “Days when they want to quit.”
“I’m far from retirement,” Dee says sharply, frowning at no one in particular.
“If you say so.” But I’ve put the idea on the table for her to noodle.
“Anyway…” Dee sets her sights back on me. “This pie is a delicacy first served here over a hundred years ago. A recipe passed down through my family. But your guess must be more specific.”
