Chapter 2
The rear door to the kitchen opened, and Kayana was shocked when she saw her brother walk in. It was only after eight. He usually didn’t start his day until ten. “Why are you here so early?”
He set the keys to his pickup on a shelf with a metal toolbox. “Deandra called me early this morning, waking me out of my good sleep to complain that she’s never having children because your sister’s kids have completely turned her off motherhood.”
Kayana gave her brother an incredulous look. He was the total package: brainy, tall, dark, and extremely handsome. Derrick Johnson, a masculine version of their beautiful mother, had been awarded full athletic and academic scholarships to several top colleges, and he’d eventually selected the University of Alabama. He’d become a standout as a running back for the Alabama Crimson Tide football program, and there were rumors he would eventually be drafted into the NFL. However, after tearing his ACL during his senior year, Derrick’s dream of turning pro vanished. With a double major in accounting and finance, he was able to secure a position with a Wall Street investment firm, where he met, fell in love with, and married a money manager. When his wife announced he was going to be a father, Derrick and Andrea talked about buying property in a suburb close to New York City, but no one was more surprised than Kayana when they decided to move to Coates Island, where they purchased a newly built beachfront home; both had admitted that, despite earning a lot of money, they were overworked and stressed out from the Wall Street grind and wanted a more relaxing lifestyle.
Derrick assisted his mother and grandmother working at the Café, while Andrea divided her time taking care of their baby daughter and managing the restaurant’s finances. Their fairy-tale marriage came to a crashing stop years later, when Andrea complained about extreme fatigue and excruciating back pain. It was only after Derrick convinced his wife to go to the doctor that she was diagnosed with stage-four pancreatic cancer. Andrea refused to undergo chemotherapy, and her husband made certain she was comfortable; two months following the initial diagnosis, she passed away at home with her loved ones looking on.
“Why is Jocelyn my sister, and not yours?” Kayana asked.
“Because you two have always been thick as thieves.”
“Maybe it’s because we’re only eleven months apart. And my niece claiming she doesn’t want children should put your mind at ease that she won’t become a teenage mother.”
Derrick stared at her with large near-black eyes. “I’m definitely not ready to become a grandfather.”
Kayana wanted to tell him that he’d waited until thirty to become a father when many of his peers with whom he’d gone to high school were fathering children in their teens and early twenties. “A lot of men are grandfathers at forty-eight.”
Derrick slipped on an apron and then put his favorite painter’s cap on his cropped graying hair. Like their mother, he’d begun graying prematurely in his early twenties. The lighter strands contrasted dramatically with his unlined mahogany complexion.
“Thanks, but no thanks. I’m happy just being a dad at this time in my life.”
Kayana returned her attention to chopping sweet pickles. The Café’s pasta salads—mac and cheese, deviled egg macaroni, and Southwestern chicken and macaroni—were customer favorites that sold out night after night. Her personal favorite was her Grandma Cassie’s mac and cheese, which she was able to duplicate down to the last ingredient.
“What was Deandra complaining about?”
“She says Jocelyn’s kids won’t listen when she tells them something.”
“That’s because Jocelyn doesn’t believe in disciplining her children.”
Derrick washed his hands, dried them on a bar towel, and then tucked it under the ties of his apron. “I had a long talk with Errol after he split from Jocelyn, and he told me they couldn’t agree on child rearing. She accused him of being too strict, while he claimed she let their kids run amuck to do whatever they wanted.”
Kayana’s hands stilled. This was the first time she’d heard why her brother-in-law had left her sister. When she’d asked Jocelyn why she and Errol broke up, she gave her an inane excuse—that he hadn’t wanted to be married any longer.
“What about Mom? Are they running her ragged?”
“No, because they’re Grandmama’s babies, and she claims she’s earned the right to spoil them rotten.”
“I want no part of that,” she said under her breath. Although Kayana loved her sister and always enjoyed interacting with her niece and nephews, it was apparent they knew who they could get over on. She’d never had any children, but if she had, then she would’ve wanted them to at least be well-behaved.
She couldn’t reveal to her brother what his daughter had confided in her. Kayana had taken family leave to be with her family during Andrea’s last days, and Deandra told her in confidence that she never wanted to have children because she didn’t want to die and leave them alone. Kayana realized Deandra’s losing her mother at thirteen was doubly traumatic because of their very close relationship. Deandra said there wasn’t anything she couldn’t talk to Andrea about because she trusted her implicitly not to repeat it—not even to her husband.
As a young adult, she should’ve been hanging out with her girlfriends, talking about the boys they liked or what they’d wanted to be once they grew up, but Deandra had retreated into her own world, where she went to school, came home, and sat at a table in the restaurant to do homework as her father and aunts had done years before.
Kayana had urged Derrick to get counseling for his daughter, and once they were enrolled in family therapy, the teenager began to emerge from her cocoon. She’d become involved with several clubs at the high school, while joining some of her friends for slumber parties. Derrick had closed the restaurant to host a surprise birthday party for Deandra’s seventeenth birthday, and when she walked in to find many of the school’s eleventh graders in attendance, she’d nearly fainted in shock. The celebration had become the most talked about event at the school that year.
“Miss Johnson?”
Her head popped up, and she saw Corey poking his head through the kitchen’s door. “Yes.”
“We’re running low on eggs.”
“I’ll make up another tray.” Breaking eggs in a large metal bowl, she added light cream, whisked them until they were frothy, and then poured the liquid on the heated flattop coated with clarified butter. They cooked up quickly, and she ladled the fluffy eggs onto a tray and carried it into the dining area. A knowing smile touched her mouth when she recognized someone from the prior summers who’d come to the Café for breakfast and dinner.
The high school mathematics and economics teacher had recently purchased a two-bedroom bungalow from an elderly widow who’d left the island to live in Texas with her adult children. News of the sale spread like wildfire when folks whispered to one another about people from the North coming down to displace them. Kayana wanted to tell them that if they didn’t move or put their properties up for sale, then there was no need to concern themselves about being displaced. While most locals welcomed vacationers because it meant extra money to supplement their income, there were still a few who resented the influx of folks who crowded their narrow streets, talking too loudly, and feared the disruption of their bucolic way of life.
“Welcome back, Mr. Ogden.”
* * *
Graeme Ogden stared at Kayana Johnson like a dumbstruck adolescent coming face-to-face with a girl he’d had a crush on. And, if the truth was known, he did have a crush on her. The first year he’d come to spend the summer on Coates Island and walked into the Seaside Café, he felt like Michael Corleone in The God father when he first saw Apollonia Vitelli. It was as if he, like the fictional character, had been struck by a thunderbolt. He didn’t know what it was about the pretty African American cook with a bright smile and stunning features that had him fantasizing about her. Although she’d greeted him by name, he was more than aware that she was able to recall the names of many of the people who frequented the eating establishment during the summer season. He also knew she was single once he overhead several locals talk about Kayana returning to the island after her divorce from a prominent Atlanta-based doctor. Rather than sit and eavesdrop on their conversation, he got up and moved to another table. Just knowing she wasn’t married was enough to fuel his curiosity to find out more about her on his own.
“Thank you, and I’d really like for you to call me Graeme. I think after a couple of years of knowing each other, we could be a little less formal.” He noticed an expression of indecision settle into her delicate features before it was replaced with a warm smile.
Kayana handed the tray of eggs to Corey. “Then Graeme it is.”
“Does this mean I can call you Kayana rather than Miss Johnson?” Graeme felt as if he’d been poleaxed when she lowered her eyes. The expression was so demure that it reminded him of another woman who’d bewitched him within minutes of his meeting her for the first time. Although there was no physical resemblance between Kayana Johnson and the woman who had become his wife, Graeme still could not figure out why he’d become so fixated on the restaurant cook.
Kayana smiled and then gave him a direct stare. “I’m either Kay or Kayana to everyone on Coates Island, and yet you insist on calling me Miss Johnson.”
“That’s because when I’d asked one of your waitstaff when I came here two years ago your name, he said Miss Johnson.”
“Corey has always called me Miss Johnson, but you may call me Kayana.”
Graeme inclined his head as if she were royalty. “Thank you. Is it possible for me to order a Western omelet made with egg whites?”
“Of course.”
He watched as Kayana turned and walked through the swinging doors leading to the kitchen. Graeme felt as if he’d somehow broken through the formality that had existed between him and the cook. When observing her, he’d discovered Kayana to be friendly and easygoing with the customers frequenting the restaurant. There were a few occasions when someone complained about their order, and she calmly reassured them that she would prepare something else more to their liking. Not once had he witnessed a change in her expression when interacting with a dissatisfied customer or detected an inflection of annoyance in her voice. That’s when he’d wanted to intervene and tell the difficult diner that there was nothing wrong with their order. Every dish prepared in the Seaside Café’s kitchen was exceptional; he knew because he’d sampled most items on the menu.
Searching for an empty seat, Graeme found a table with an elderly couple. “Good morning. Do you mind if I share your table?”
The white-haired, bespectacled man wearing a Boston Red Sox T-shirt gestured to the chair opposite him. “Please sit.”
“Did I hear a New England accent?” the man’s wife asked.
Smiling, Graeme sat. “Guilty as charged.”
“We’re Claude and Edna Ferguson, and we live in Worcester. This is our fifth time coming here for vacation.”
A beat passed, and Graeme realized the couple expected him to introduce himself. “Graeme Ogden from Newburyport.” Although he’d spent most of his childhood in Boston, he now called the historic seaport city home.
What, he mused, were the odds of meeting a couple from Massachusetts when during the prior two years the few he had opted to interact with were from Michigan or Ohio. Graeme had made a practice not to become involved with those on the island because he’d come to Coates Island to work and not socialize. He didn’t hang out on the beach or in the town square to watch movies or listen to prerecorded music.
“That’s a really pretty little city,” Claude said.
Edna leaned over the table. “How long will you be here?” she whispered, as if it was a secret.
“Probably a couple of weeks.” Graeme had no intention of revealing his plans to a couple of strangers.
“Did you come down with your wife?” Claude asked.
Well, I’ll be damned, Graeme thought. Had he chosen to sit with a pair of retired interrogators? As soon as Kayana finished with his omelet, he was going to sit out on the patio to avoid what was certain to become an inquisition.
As if on cue, Kayana approached the table. “Here’s your omelet. Enjoy.”
Coming to his feet, Graeme took the plate. “Thank you.” He turned to the Fergusons. “Thank you for allowing me to sit with you while I waited, but I’m going to eat on the patio.”
Kayana walked with him over to the buffet table. “Did the Fergusons put you through the third degree?”
He gave her a sidelong glance, noticing for the first time that she wasn’t as tall as he’d thought. The top of her head came to his shoulder. “How did you know?”
“I usually don’t engage in gossip about my customers, but most folks know never to share the Fergusons’ table because you’ll end up being asked about your entire life, beginning with your birth weight.”
Graeme smothered a laugh as he picked up a serving spoon of home fries and placed it on the plate next to the fluffy omelet. “I just witnessed that. Thanks for the heads-up.” For the second time in a matter of minutes, he watched Kayana walk. He had never seen her wear anything other than a chef’s tunic, black checkered pants, and a bibbed apron. Her telling him about the Fergusons had him feeling as if they were co-conspirators.
* * *
Kayana walked back into the kitchen to resume making the pasta salads. “Graeme Ogden unknowingly fell prey to the Fergusons’ interrogating him.”
Derrick gently mixed a large bowl of lump crab with Old Bay and other spices before forming them into crab cakes. “He’s been here enough times to know to stay away from them.”
“He usually keeps to himself.”
“That’s because he prefers to sit and stare at my sister.”
Kayana went completely still. “What are you talking about?”
Derrick smiled. “Are you so turned off on men that you don’t know when a man is interested in you?”
She went back to grating cheese. “You’re talking out the side of your neck.”
“No, I’m not, little sister. There were a few times when I caught the man gawking at you with his tongue hanging out, and I wanted to tell him not to be so obvious.”
Kayana made a sucking sound with her tongue and teeth. “The next time you see him look my way, you should tell him your sister isn’t interested. And even with his gawking, he could have a wife hidden away somewhere.”
“You’ve been reading too many Gothic novels where men hide their wives away in a dungeon or locked room in order to seduce the heroine.”
“Don’t knock my books, Derrick,” she said defensively.
“I happen to know that Graeme Ogden isn’t married. Covering dinner allows me to talk to our customers when I ask them if they’re enjoying their meal or just chatting about other things. He’s a teacher and enjoys coming down here to get away from it all.”
“Single or not, at this time in my life I want nothing to do with a man.”
“Not all men are like James.”
“I’m aware of that, but giving him almost twenty years of my life, only to be traded in for a newer model, still galls me.”
“You’re only forty-six, Kay, and—”
“Please let it go, Derrick,” Kayana said, cutting him off.
She knew her brother wanted to see her with someone, but that wasn’t going to happen—at least not yet. Two years, when compared to two decades, wasn’t long enough to get over her ex’s deception. If he had only told her he wanted out of their marriage, instead of her seeing him and his mistress coming out of a downtown hotel when he’d told her he was going out of town for a conference. She would’ve become his genie and granted his wish, because she didn’t believe in staying in or continuing a toxic relationship or marriage.
“Is it because Graeme isn’t black?”
Kayana cut her eyes at Derrick. “His race has nothing to do with it. I just don’t want to get involved with anyone, and please let’s leave it at that.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Derrick intoned.
“You’ve been single longer than I have, so hush your mouth.”
“The difference between you and me is I have a child and you don’t.”
“What does that have to do with anything?” she asked. “Deandra has one more year of high school before she goes off to college. Are you going to wait to become a grandfather to begin dating again?”
Filling the sink with enough water to cover racks of ribs, he added a cup of vinegar. “You’re pushing it, Kay, with your grandfather yakety-yak.”
“Consider yourself fortunate if you’re able to attain that honor because that’s something I can never claim. Luckily, I have nieces and nephews I can spoil rotten.”
Kayana had been married less than a year when she discovered she was pregnant. She had been within weeks of completing her first trimester when she began hemorrhaging, and the doctors were unable to stop the bleeding. Kayana was not given the option of becoming pregnant again after undergoing an emergency hysterectomy. Subsequently, she and James had discussed adoption, but whenever she brought up the subject, he said they were still a family even if they didn’t have a child or children. After a while, they simply dropped the topic.
“Can you answer one question for me, Derrick?”
“What’s that?”
“You went to see Errol about breaking up with Jocelyn. Did you do the same when I told you I was divorcing James?”
Removing a pair of disposable gloves, he met Kayana’s eyes. “No, because I knew you could hold your own with him. Being the youngest, Jocelyn has always had us to fight her battles, and I doubted whether she would’ve been able to stand up to Errol. Now, if James had gotten funky with you, then I would’ve driven down to Atlanta and kicked his bougie ass.”
She laughed. “I managed to beat him without lifting a finger, and because we didn’t have a prenup, he had to give me what I asked for or I was ready to drag out the divorce for infinity and beyond.”
“Damn, Kay, you’ve watched too many Toy Story movies.”
“Those are Jocelyn’s kids’ favorite movies.”
Kayana was relieved that she and her brother could talk about things other than the lack of a man in her life. She knew she would not be able to engage in a meaningful relationship unless she forgave her ex. Otherwise, the next man would bear the brunt of her simmering rage, and that would be unfair to him.
Derrick had asked whether dating out of her race was a deal breaker, and for Kayana it wasn’t. While in college, she’d gone out with two men who weren’t black and found them no different from the African Americans she’d dated. Although she never lacked for dates, it had taken her a while before she’d had a serious relationship, and she knew it had to do with her parents’ divorce.
She also thought about her brother’s reference to Graeme Ogden’s interest in her, and she wanted to tell him he was delusional. The tall, middle-aged man with large gray eyes, which reminded her of dark clouds rolling across the sky before an impending thunderstorm, did not appeal to her. Whenever he visited the restaurant, she rarely gave him a passing glance, as she did most of the patrons. She greeted everyone politely, and her sole concern was making certain they enjoyed what she and Derrick had prepared for them to eat.
Graeme Ogden planned to summer on the island and then return home at the end of the season, while she would have her hands full cooking and serving at the restaurant. What little time she had to spare she tended to spend reading, because there was no room in her busy schedule for romance.