Max enters the cafe mid afternoon on Saturday during their first lull in business for the day. “My guests are eating me out of house and home. I hope you’re fully stocked, because I need to load up.”
Birdie grabs a pen an notepad. “We have an ample supply of everything. But if you want super fresh, I just finished a batch a key lime pies, and Sadie’s in the back making donuts. The patriotic ones we do for Memorial Day.”
“I’ll take three pies and two dozen donuts.” Max cuts her eyes at Cary who is processing a customer’s order. “I see you put him to work.”
“He volunteered. He jumped right in like he’s been working here for years. He’s a pretty good salesman, too.”
“Birdie,” Max says in her warning tone.
“Please, Max. I’m not falling in love with him again, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’ll be right back with your order.”
Birdie assembles the baked goods and puts the credit charge through. “Do you need help carrying everything?”
“Only if you want to hear about my date with Stan.”
“Yes!” Grabbing the stack of boxed pies, Birdie comes around from behind the counter and they leave through the front door together. “When you didn’t call me, I figured things didn’t go well.”
“Believe it or not, Stan talked about you the whole time.”
Birdie’s heart skips a beat. “Me? What do you mean?”
“What do you think I mean? His purpose for drinks with me was to pick my brain about you. He wants to know if you’re dating again. Because he doesn’t frequent the MatchMade website, he didn’t know you’d joined.”
Birdie holds the door open for Max, and they enter the hotel lobby. “What did you tell him about me?”
“That he should totally ask you out. And I gave him your number.”
Birdie follows Max through the lounge to the small commercial kitchen. “You didn’t tell him Cary’s back in town, did you?”
Max sets the donut boxes on the counter. “I did, actually. And that the two of you are shacking up.”
Birdie’s jaw drops. “You didn’t.”
“Of course I didn’t.“ Max snatches the pies from Birdie. “But it’s only a matter of time before he hears about it on the street. You’re finally moving on with your life, Birdie. Don’t let Cary ruin your life again.”
“He’s not ruining my life. I’m just helping him get a fresh start. I need to get back to the cafe.”
As Birdie leaves the kitchen, Max calls after her, “Have fun on your date with Harold.”
Harold. Birdie wishes she’d never agreed to go to dinner with him. Even though she told him the cafe doesn’t close until six, he’s insisting on coming for her at five thirty. Only old people go to dinner so early. Nevertheless, she’s dressed in white jeans and a hot pink tunic when he arrives.
He gives her the once over. “You look beautiful.”
“You don’t look so bad yourself.” She doesn’t consider Harold handsome. But he’s pleasant looking—he still has all his hair—and nicely dressed in a navy sport coat and khaki pants.
“Well, then. Shall we.” He offers her his arm, and they walk the short distance to the Lighthouse.
Several tables on the deck are occupied with customers enjoying happy hour. A gentle breeze is blowing off the ocean, and Birdie would prefer to sit outside. But Harold requests a table inside the empty restaurant.
Studying her menu, Birdie finds many of the offerings tempting. Goat cheese and arugula salad for a starter. Either crab cakes or sautéed scallops for the entree. And fresh fruit on homemade cinnamon ice cream for dessert. Printed at the bottom of the menu is a notice abouth the early bird special they offer every evening between five thirty and seven. This explains a lot.
“Would you care for wine with your dinner?” Harold asks. “Depending on your choice of red or white, we get better pricing if we order a bottle.”
“I don’t care for wine. Thank you.”
Ever the hypocritical alcoholic, she worried he might think her a dull date if she doesn’t order a drink. But instead of appearing irritated, he looks relieved.
The waitress, a attractive young woman about Hannah’s age, arrives to take their order. “We have several specials tonight,” she says and describes the list of entree specials in detail.
Birdie’s face lights up when she mentions soft shell crabs, but before she can request them, Harold takes her menu away. He tells the waitress, “We’ll both have the roasted rosemary chicken for our entrees.”
Birdie can hardly believe her ears. What a cheapskate. He ordered the least expensive item on the menu with no starters or desserts.
“And to drink?” The waitress asks, a hint of irritation in her voice.
Harold hands her the menus. “I’ll have a glass of the house red and the lady would like sweet tea.”
Sweet tea? Who said anything about sweet tea?
Birdie smiles at the waitress. “I’m fine with just water. Thanks.”
When the waitress leaves, Harold launches into a discussion about his vegetable garden. Birdie has nothing against gardening, but she could care less what he uses to get rid of aphids on his tomato plants. She considers excusing herself for the restroom and sneaking out the back door. But that would be rude, so she remains at the table and endures the boring conversation.
After the waitress brings their beverages, Birdie’s eyes roam frequently to Harold’s wine. He’s now going on about the process he uses to pickle his cucumbers. The sheer boredom of his conversation is tempting her to drink.
When her phone vibrates in her hand bag, she slips the bag from the table to her lap. Harold’s too busy talking about eggplant to notice. Removing her phone from the bag, she sneaks a glance at the text. Hello, Birdie. This is Stan Morgan. I hope you don’t mind me reaching out. I was wondering if you’d be interested in spending the afternoon on the water with me tomorrow.
Max must have told him the cafe closes on Sundays at two. Tingles of excitement flutter in her belly. A day on the water is her kind of date.
Harold suggests a walk along the boardwalk after dinner.
“I’m sorry, Harold. We were slammed today with the holiday traffic.”
“I understand,” he says and walks her to the cafe’s front door.
When he moves in to kiss her, Birdie turns her head, and his wet lips land with a sucking noise on her cheek.
Harold straightens. “You’re not going out with me again, are you?”
Birdie shakes her head. “Sorry. No chemistry. But thanks for dinner. Night, Harold,” she says and closes the door on him.
Pulling out her phone, she quickly taps out a text to Stan. I’m glad to hear from you. An outing on the water sounds lovely. What time? The cafe closes at two.
His response is immediate. Perfect. I’ll pick you up at the marina’s main dock at two thirty. Wear your bathing suit and bring sunscreen.
Birdie smiles to herself. Tomorrow afternoon can’t get here soon enough.
She hears voices coming from the living room, and when she makes her way upstairs, she finds Cary watching On Golden Pond.
As a married couple, they’d often watched old movies together. This one, in particular, was one of their favorites.
When he sees Birdie standing here, he says, “How was your date?”
She pulls a face and he laughs. “That bad?”
“Worse.” She eyes a half-empty sleeve of Saltines on the coffee table. “Did you get dinner?”
He gestures at the crackers. “I’ve been snacking. I’m not very hungry.”
“My dinner was less than satisfying, one bone-in chicken breast and a scoop of lumpy mashed potatoes. Wanna order a pizza?” Suspecting he doesn’t have money for pizza, she adds, “My treat.”
His lips curl up in a grateful smile. “I won’t say no to pizza.”
Retrieving her laptop from her bedroom, she sits down beside him on the sofa and orders a pizza. The past three years fall away, and they’re back in their beloved home on the inlet, watching a movie and eating pizza as they often did on Saturday nights.
When the movie ends, Cary points the remote at the television, powering it off. “Early day tomorrow.”
“Mm-hmm.” Birdie doesn’t get up, even though she’s sitting on his bed. They remain on opposite ends of the sofa with feet planted on the floor and staring forward, avoiding looking at each other.
“I enjoyed working behind the counter today. If you need me, I’m available the rest of the weekend.”
“Deal. I’ll pay you, of course.”
He tosses the remote on the coffee table. “You don’t have to, since I’m living here for free, and you just bought me pizza.”
“No way. I insist. You’re a good worker. The customers like you.”
“Since I haven’t had any luck with law firms, or any other reputable business in town, I’m thinking I’ll apply for jobs at some of the retail establishments on The Avenue like Freeman’s Hardware. Maybe Shaggy will hire me. That way I can earn some money while I’m waiting for something better to come along.”
The unspoken hangs in the air between them. What if something better doesn’t come along? “That’s an excellent idea.”
“I had no idea the impact my disappearance would have on my future. I got caught up in the moment. Melinda snared me into her trap. I got greedy. I wanted the white sandy beaches and hundred-foot yachts. Our marriage had grown—”
“Stale,” she says, finishing his sentence.
Cary shakes his head. “Not stale. Comfortable. I should’ve been satisfied with that.”
“I wasn’t satisfied either, Cary. The boredom drove me to drink. We let each other down. We should’ve tried harder, should’ve traveled, gone out more with friends.”
He turns his head to look at her. “Are you saying you forgive me?”
“For abandoning me? Never. You took the coward’s way out. But I understand why you made your choices.” Her eyes well with tears. “My drinking drove you into the arms of another woman.”
He thumbs a tear off her cheek. “You appear to have gotten your drinking under control.”
She sniffles. “I had to. I nearly drank myself to death after you left. With Birdie’s help, I was able to quit.”
He shifts his body toward her. “Would you consider giving me a second chance? We were once so good together. We could have that again.”
Birdie jumps to her feet. “No, Cary. Our marriage is over. I thought I made that clear when I agreed to let you stay here.”
She gathers her laptop and purse and fleas to the safety of her room. Dropping her things on her bed, she goes to stand beside the window. The full moon reflecting off the water helps calm her. She tries to imagine a second chance with Cary. They were once so in love. At least she thought it was love. They were best friends. Being together was the only thing that mattered. Their sex life was satisfying. Although she has little to compare it to. Before meeting Cary, Birdie’s experience with sex was limited to a few drunken encounters with frat boys in college. Perhaps she’s too old to know burning passion. If she gets another chance at love, why settle for anything less.