Seaside Gifts: a Seaside romance (Hometown Romance) Page 5

"Would I have gotten residuals?"

  "Don't suggest that to the kid who did make it."

  The cannons fired, slightly muted by the closed windows and the hum of the air conditioner in the window facing the ocean.

  "They had a hard time coming up with what the pirate should say." She got a sly gleam in her eye. "The language the real guys probably used isn't exactly family friendly."

  The shanty played in the background.

  "Does it play all day?" Nan asked.

  Aunt Bunny walked to the side window and peered down at the controlled chaos next door. "No. The Buc closes at eleven every night and doesn't open until eleven in the morning."

  Half the day quiet. "At least you can sleep."

  "I miss the noise when it's gone," she said. "Now come to the table. Dinner's ready."

  She led them through the living room with its Salvation Army castoffs and old fashioned TV to the eating area. Three places waited, inexpensive flatware flanking floral plastic plates resting on place mats like the beach scene mats Nan sold at Present Perfect. Sherbet-colored napkins and plastic tumblers also from Present Perfect matched the colors of the artificial lilacs and cyclamen that made up the centerpiece.

  Three settings. Nan tried not to look too pleased. "Alana's not joining us?"

  "Push tush, of course not. She can't stand it here." The cannons fired. "She says it's too noisy."

  Nan laughed. "I can't imagine why."

  Aunt Bunny grinned as she turned to a kitchen area the size of a small bedroom closet and pulled a metal bowl filled with ice cubes from the little refrigerator's freezer.

  "Let me," Nan said, taking the bowl of cubes.

  While she put ice in the glasses, Aunt Bunny pulled three shrimp cocktails from the refrigerator.

  "Sit, young man," she instructed Rog. "Do you want sweetened or unsweetened iced tea?"

  "Sweetened," Rog said as he sank into a chair that wobbled slightly beneath him.

  "Careful." Aunt Bunny poured him a glass of tea. "This furniture is not the best."

  But the dinner was. A delicious chopped salad followed the shrimp, and the entrée was breaded baked flounder—"I'm not allowed to have it fried anymore," Aunt Bunny announced as she served it—with garlic mashed potatoes and asparagus.

  Rog scraped the last crumb from his plate and looked at Aunt Bunny appreciatively. "This was a delicious meal."

  "Push posh," Aunt Bunny said. "It was nothing. All I had to do was tip the delivery boy."

  "Then you have good taste in take-out."

  Aunt Bunny laughed. "Make that one of the questions you ask any girls you date. Do you cook?"

  "What if they say no?"

  "Then ask yourself how much you like pizza. You'll be eating a lot of it."

  Rog choked on his iced tea.

  "You don't think I ordered like this every day for Joe, do you? But he never complained." Her voice grew soft and her eyes sad. Then she gave a little head shake and forced a smile.

  Nan stood and gathered the empty plates. "Well, thank you for doing it for us, Aunt Bunny. It was wonderful. Does Alana cook?"

  "Oh my, yes. Gourmet. Undoubtedly a reaction to my lack of skills."

  For a moment, the only noise besides the distant shanty was Nan scraping the dishes.

  Aunt Bunny gave a large sigh. "Alana wants me to go to a retirement home."

  Nan looked up, startled. "Is that why she's been bothering you?"

  "One of the reasons."

  Nan kept herself from looking around the small apartment with its limited space and worn furniture. "Are you going to go?"

  "If I do, it won't be because Alana is pushing me." Aunt Bunny stalked to the refrigerator and pulled the freezer open. She brought out vanilla ice cream and began scooping it onto slices of chocolate decadence cake. "I can make my own choices."

  "And Alana thinks you can't?"

  "She's decided that since Joe died, I am frail and incompetent." Bunny snorted her disgust. "Just because her friend Tessa moved her widowed mother from her home in Kansas to a retirement place in New Jersey three months after she was widowed, Alana thinks she should be making choices like that for me."

  Rog poured himself another glass of iced tea from the pitcher on the table. "My mother's parents went to a retirement community last year, one of those where you start in a cottage and have care until you die. They love it."

  "But I bet they chose to go. I bet no one forced them."

  Rog nodded. "True."

  "I went to visit Tessa's mother," Bunny said. "Talk about depressing. The poor woman is still grieving her husband of 52 years, and now she's also lost all her friends and everything familiar because her daughter pushed and pushed when she was vulnerable. They sold her house right out from under her. I know it's not criminal by your definition," she said to Rog, "but it's still wrong, wrong. What time is it?"

  Nan looked at her watch. "Almost seven thirty."

  Aunt Bunny nodded. "Good. Time for the damsel in distress." She hurried to the window overlooking the Buc. "Come on. You've got to see this. It's new this year."

  Nan exchanged a look with Rog, who got to his feet.

  "Hurry. You'll miss it." Bunny waved her hand to make them move faster.

  Nan stood beside Aunt Bunny while Rog looked over their shoulders.

  The cannons fired.

  The pirate walked into view high above the heads of the crowd gathered below.

  A young woman in an old-fashioned long dress was brought forward by another pirate, her hands tied before her.

  "Tell me where the treasure is or you die," boomed the PA system.

  "Never," the girl said bravely. "You are too evil."

  "Then you walk the plank." He prodded her forward with his sword.

  She walked bravely onto the plank.

  As she stood on the very edge, the hero swooped in on a rope and dropped beside the pirate. With one strong thrust of his sword, he ran the villain through, pushing him over the side of the ship. The second pirate ran off in fear.

  The girl raced off the plank. She threw her arms, which had come conveniently untied, about the hero's neck. The crowd cheered as they kissed and ran off together.

  Bunny sighed. "Don't you love it?"

  "How often?" Rog asked.

  "Every fifteen minutes. That makes it special."

  "Aunt Bunny, you're a romantic," Nan said as they returned to the table for their cake.

  "Of course. I was married to Joe, wasn't I?"

  In short order, dessert was eaten and the dishes were washed and put away. Nan started to think about the need to get back to the store. She was only confident about leaving Tammy in charge for an hour or so, even with Ingrid as her backup. Any longer made Nan twitchy.

  "Time to go ride the Ferris wheel." Aunt Bunny started for the steps. "Come on. It's my favorite ride anywhere, but the one here is extra wonderful!"

  "Rats, Aunt Bunny. I have to get back."

  Bunny looked crestfallen. "Just one ride? Please?"

  Nan gave in, not that she was fighting hard. "What's five more minutes? I love the Ferris wheel too."

  Aunt Bunny laughed and headed down the stairs at a good clip, pulling on a ratty gray sweater as she went.

  "You don't have to ride, Rog," Nan said softly.

  "After that dinner? Sure I do. A little nausea's a fair price."

  "Not if you lose said dinner."

  "There is that."

  Aunt Bunny's voice echoed up the stairwell. "You'll love it, Rog. I know you will. Rocking up at the top with Nan—the best."

  Rog turned a pale green at the thought. "Sounds like great fun," he managed, and Nan had to laugh.

  Chapter Eight

  Nan inhaled the smell of popcorn, cotton candy, and hot dogs as they walked into the chaos of the Buc. Aunt Bunny waved at the kid manning the hot dog concession as they passed.

  "How's it going tonight, Tim?"

  "Pretty good, Mrs. T."

  "Keep up the good work.
"

  Tim grinned.

  "Ramon, how's tricks?" Aunt Bunny called to the man in the ticket booth.

  He stuck up his thumb. "Busy night, Mrs. T."

  At the foot of the Ferris wheel, Aunt Bunny spoke to a young man in a black T-shirt. "Give my friends a nice long ride, Pierce."

  "Aren't you coming with us, Mrs. Truscott?" Rog asked.

  "Not this time. This is a ride for the two of you young people."

  With a monosyllabic grunt, Pierce opened the bar across the seat and urged Nan in. Rog joined her with the expression of a French aristocrat going to the guillotine. The bar clicked, and the wheel began moving.

  Nan looked down and waved at Aunt Bunny, who stood smiling up at them. "Wave to her, Rog."

  He kept his eyes fixed straight ahead but managed to give his hand a weak little flip.

  The car approached the top, and Nan looked out over the boardwalk with its noise and crowds. Then she looked farther to her left, over the beach to the ocean and up to a sky still a bright blue at—she glanced at her watch—seven-fifty. The beautiful golden light of evening made everything so lovely she felt tears. She was part of this wonderful town, this amazing boardwalk.

  Oh, God, please tell Aunt Char I said thanks! Tell her I'll make her proud. I will. You'll see.

  She settled back against the seat and took a deep breath. The Ferris wheel's movement stopped, and they sat at the very top, high above the world and its worries about paying bills, ordering appropriate inventory, and dealing with mysterious items. Rog sat rigidly beside her.

  "This is where Aunt Bunny says we should rock," she teased.

  He slid his eyes toward her. "If you do, I'll call it self-defense when they haul me in for murder."

  She had to laugh even as she felt sorry for him. Poor man. He was just trying to make Aunt Bunny happy. She had to distract him from his distress.

  "Tell me about Lori." It was the first thing that popped into her mind.

  He turned his head slightly in her direction, looking as if he expected to fall out of the car with the movement. "What? Why?"

  "I'm trying to take your mind off the ride."

  "Um." He faced front again. "Will the descent be better with my eyes open or closed?"

  Nan patted his shoulder as they started down. He closed his eyes and groaned softly.

  When they neared the bottom, she waved at Pierce. "Let us off, please," she called. "I've got to get back to work." She promised herself she'd come back another time and take a long ride. A long, long ride.

  When they exited, Rog only slightly wobbly, Bunny was waiting for them. "That was quick."

  Rog opened his mouth to explain but swallowed quickly instead. It was the green cast to his face that had Nan speaking up.

  "Work, Aunt Bunny. I've been away too long as it is."

  "Well, I'll walk you out. Want a hot dog or some cotton candy?"

  Rog made an urp sound, and Nan answered for them both again. "After that wonderful dinner? Maybe I'll be hungry again by morning, but not now."

  Aunt Bunny looked pleased.

  As they walked toward the bustle of the boardwalk, Aunt Bunny waved to many of the workers, calling them by name, and they smiled and waved back.

  "You know everyone who works here," Nan said.

  Aunt Bunny shrugged. "I probably don't know some of the new summer hires, but I know a lot. They come back summer after summer." There was pride in her voice. "They're like family to me."

  And from what Nan could see, they treated her with more affection and respect than her own daughter. How sad was that?

  Nan and Rog were more than a block from the Buc before the noise of the cannons faded.

  "How can she stand living there?" Rog wondered.

  "I've asked myself the same question," Nan said. "But she's lived there as long as I've known her."

  "And how long's that?"

  "Ten years. When I worked for Aunt Char while I was in college, Aunt Bunny was in that apartment even then. Who knows how long she and Joe lived there before I met her."

  Rog glanced back. "All year round?"

  "Good question. I don't know. I guess I always assumed not. It screams summer only to me, but I don't know where they live..." Nan caught herself. "Where she lives the rest of the year."

  "Where did your aunt live off season?"

  "She had a condo on the ocean in Vero Beach, Florida. She had a store there for several years, but she sold it some time ago."

  "She was never married?"

  "No. A career woman."

  "She must have been successful to live on the ocean. Not an inexpensive setup."

  "I never saw her Florida place, and now I own it." Nan shook her head. "Weird."

  Rog studied her for a moment. "Will you move to Florida off season?"

  "I don't think so. It doesn't interest me. Maybe if I were older or married, but one new life a year here in Seaside is enough for me. I think I'll sell that place to finish paying off college loans and give myself a little more of a nest egg until I see what Present Perfect does." Another of her plans that wouldn't make Mom happy.

  "So you're here permanently?" Was that pleasure she heard in his voice?

  She nodded. "Though I've never been here off season before."

  "Slower pace but still plenty going on."

  "I think a slower pace will suit me fine. I feel like I've jumped from one rat race to another with the move from Pizzazz to Present Perfect."

  "Makes jobs like painting the bedroom a fond fantasy, doesn't it?"

  "Maybe by January I'll get to it."

  "How about I paint it for you?"

  The question was so casual and so unexpected, she wasn't sure she'd heard right. She glanced at him, and he smiled at her.

  "I wouldn't want a pink bedroom either." He gave a mock shudder.

  She laughed. "I just bet you wouldn't. But, Rog, that's asking a lot of you."

  "You didn't ask. I offered."

  "You're serious?"

  "Why not?"

  She could think of several reasons—not his place, time lost, he hardly knew her—but she chose not to list them aloud.

  "I could come tomorrow night after work and get started."

  They stopped outside Present Perfect, and she studied his face. She told herself not to read anything personal into his offer. He was just being nice.

  Still, she'd see him twice tomorrow, once as competent Officer Eastman when he came to photograph the leavery items, and once as Rog, the adorable guy who, she was afraid, could make Tyler a long-forgotten memory

  "I feel it's an imposition—"

  He held up a hand. "No imposition. I volunteered, remember?"

  "True, but still."

  "I happen to like to paint. I worked my way through college that way."

  "Are you sure?"

  "Nan." He sounded slightly exasperated. "I wouldn't have volunteered if I didn't mean it."

  She still had trouble believing in his generosity. "I've got nothing against pink in general, you know. It's just that shade."

  He nodded as if he understood.

  Adorable didn't begin to cover it. "Then I'll cook dinner for you. It's the least I can do."

  "Yes." He fist-pumped the air. "Two nights without microwaved stuff. Mission accomplished."

  "It's 'Be kind one to another,' you know, not 'Finagle a meal from one another.'"

  He grinned. "Maybe I can manage both."

  No, adorable wasn't even close.

  They walked into the store to find a line at the cash register. Tammy was ringing up people as fast as she could.

  Nan felt a surge of pride and hope. If there were this many here in June, what would July and August be like?

  "Nan," Tammy called. "We've been waiting for you." She jerked her thumb toward a woman in shorts and a Seaside T-shirt. "Marcy here wants to buy these, and I couldn't find a price."

  Chapter Nine

  Rog peeked over Nan's shoulder at the pair of tall silve
r candlesticks sitting on the counter. They were quite fancy and very shiny. Real silver, he'd guess, not plate, and clearly more leavery.

  "They don't have a price tag." Marcy ran a finger over one as she smiled at Nan. "Aren't they lovely?"

  Rog waited with interest for Nan's response. He watched her close her eyes for a moment, take a deep breath, and then smile at Marcy.

  "I'm so sorry. I'm afraid they're not for sale. I apologize for the misunderstanding." Her face flamed with embarrassment.

  "Not for sale?" Marcy squinted at her, not at all happy. "Look. I want them. I'm willing to pay for them. And I've already waited thirty minutes for you to get back from dinner. I've got a tired husband and three very unhappy little boys waiting outside, chomping to go to the Buc."

  Nan looked pale, and Rog bet the fish and shrimp she'd eaten were starting a war in her stomach.

  "I'm sorry," Nan said again. What else was there to say?

  With a few choice words that Rog hoped the woman's sons didn't pick up on, Marcy stormed out of the store. He could see her gesticulating as she told her husband and three boys about her thwarted desire. The man looked back into the store, eyebrows raised. He said something to the woman and took a step, but she shook her head.

  Don't make a scene. Don't make a scene. Rog wished he could send the message telepathically. Just leave.

  With one last fulminating glare from Marcy, she and her family disappeared from view.

  Nan grabbed the candlesticks and stalked to her office. Rog trailed her and found her sitting behind her desk, glaring at the latest leavery.

  "They showed up while we were at dinner?" He closed the door, shutting out the store, the boardwalk chaos, and the muted sounds of the sea.

  Nan put the candlesticks on the desk. "I didn't see them before we left." She leaned back in the chair. "Whoever this person is, he or she keeps putting me in such an awkward position."

  He slid into the seat he'd filled that afternoon. "I thought for a minute Marcy was going to be a real problem."

  "I wouldn't have blamed her." She looked at him with her eyes wide and begging. "Rog, you've got to solve this. You've got to."

  He smiled. "Don't worry. We'll figure it all out."

  He could see her relax at his words and fix that amazing smile on him. He took a deep breath. He could recite Lori's name all he wanted, but it wasn't going to help.