Mom studies me. I hazard a glance in her direction. She looks speculative. “Is Jakob the reason you were asking me questions about not wanting what you saw in your vision?” she asks shrewdly.
I just nod.
“Oh, Emmie,” she sighs. I look down at the linoleum floor, feeling exposed. There’s no hiding from her.
“Jakob is a good man and a good friend,” she says gently. “But what about Henry? Is he not what you want?”
“I don’t know. I’m afraid maybe not,” I admit. “Henry is wonderful, don’t get me wrong. But I don’t know if he’s the one for me. I’m not sure our lives mesh that well. If I were with him, I’d have to give up so much of what I want in a partner. I think wemight be better off as friends.” I grimace. Saying the words out loud is surprisingly painful, though they ring true.
Mom sighs. “The heart wants what the heart wants,” she says, her tone unexpectedly philosophical. She comes over to me and lays her hand over mine on the counter, her eyes soft and concerned. “Don’t second-guess your heart, Emmie. Be honest with yourself. Give yourself permission to love fully. You deserve that kind of love, not something you have to talk yourself into.” She looks up and her gaze softens as though she’s seeing something not in this room.
“I saw your father in my vision, you know, and a year later I fell in love with him the instant I spotted him sitting there at the Green Light Diner. He ordered the Hungry Viking Signature Plate and ate every bite. Lord but that man could eat! I recognized him as soon as he glanced up at me. I knew, I just knew it was him. I scribbled my number on his check and he called the next day. After that, we were never apart. We saw each other every day, worked side by side, did everything together. And we had many, many good years together. That’s the kind of love I want for you, Emmie. The kind Bert and I had. That’s the kind of love that makes all the troubles and hardship of life bearable.”
I swallow hard around the lump in my throat at the mention of Dad. I drain my second glass of water, trying to ease the tightness. “I want that too, Mom,” I tell her thickly.
“And you don’t think you can have that love with Henry?” she asks me, her gaze searching. Suddenly the kitchen feels too small, her attention too close.
“I just remembered I need to run by the shop and drop something off.” I feel for the screwdriver in my pocket. There is absolutely no need for me to return an orange-handled screwdriver atalmost midnight, but suddenly I just need to get out and think. “I’ll be right back. Don’t wait up.”
She hesitates, then nods. “Okay, sweetheart. Just remember, I love you, Emmie, and I want what’s best for you.”
“I know, Mom.” I press a kiss to her forehead. “I love you too.” And then I practically sprint out the door.
Chapter 35
Downtown is quiet and deserted. I unlock the shop, return the screwdriver to Jakob’s toolbox, and lock up again. As I do, I notice a light shining from inside the Salty Mermaid. That’s strange this late at night. I peer in the storefront window and am surprised to see Dot rearranging a display of seashell-themed décor on a round table in the middle of the shop. What in the world is she doing up and redecorating at this hour? I tap on the window and she glances up, startled. Then she spots me and hurries over, unlocking the door and throwing it open.
“Baby girl,” she says in that throaty voice of hers. “What are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same question. It’s late.”
She waves a hand. “I’m old and I listen to too many true crime podcasts. Walt sends them to me. This one was a serial killer in California in the ’70s. Gruesome stuff. I couldn’t sleep. Did you just get back into town?”
I hesitate and she presses her lips together and puts her handson her hips. “I heard,” she says. “Gwen told me what happened. I’m sorry, Emmie. What a rotten day.”
I nod. “Not my best day, for sure.” I try to make light of it, but the memory stings. “I’d better head home and let you get on with it.”
But Dot has other ideas. “You need a Band-Aid,” she announces.
“A what?” I need a lot of things right now, but a Band-Aid is not one of them.
“Stay right here.” She disappears into the rear of the shop and comes back with a mostly full bottle of mezcal. “That’s what Jude and I always called a shot at the end of a bad day, a Band-Aid. But you can’t drink it inside. You have to get outside, clear your head, and take a shot to chase the stink of the day away. Come on, girlie.”
Without waiting for my reply, she locks the shop door and heads toward the waterfront park. I follow hesitantly. I really don’t want to do shots at midnight in the park with Dot, but she seems determined, so I go along with it. I’m exhausted but I don’t think I could sleep right now anyway. I need to unwind a little from this disaster of a day.
Like the town, the park is deserted. Dot sits down on one of the blue painted iron benches facing the bay and uncorks the mezcal.
“You go first,” she says as I gingerly perch beside her. I’m still in my rumpled sheath, which is not the most comfortable of outfit choices. I wish I’d thought of that roughly sixteen hours ago when I put it on. Thankfully the heat has broken and the night air is almost chilly. A few yards away, the water laps gently along the shore, and the wind whispers through the evergreen trees. Everything smells lively—freshly cut grass and seaweed and saltwater on wet rocks. I shiver a little and tip up the bottle. The mezcal tastes like smoke and leather with a slight fruity note. It bites as it goes down. Dot takes the bottle from me.
“This’ll fix what ails ya,” she says, throwing her head back and taking a hearty swallow.
“I wish,” I say morosely, staring out at the marina, at the sailboats bobbing in the slight breeze. I shiver again.
“Want to tell me what happened?” Dot asks. I don’t really want to rehash it, but I do anyway. By the end of the story about the malfunctioning air-conditioner, the border crossing, and my mad dash to beat the clock, she whistles and passes me the bottle again.
“What a mess,” she says.
“Yeah, you got that right. Needless to say, I didn’t win the competition and don’t know what we’re going to do now. We really needed that money.”
