I’m tempted to take him with me back to New York when it’s all said and done, but my gut twists at the idea of taking him away from Elias.
That’s a decision for another day.
As we enter The Icehouse, I inhale the scent of savory fried onion rings. My mouth waters. It’s dark inside, especially after being in the bright sun moments before, but as my eyes adjust, I’m able to make out the décor.
Heavy nautical theme.
My chest tightens. I wonder if any of the nets or other fishing gear hanging on the walls belonged to my grandfather. The place is swanky like something you’d see in Montauk, but it still has a small-town feel to it. I believe the owner of this place did right by our family by keeping the original vibes present.
A handsome older guy grins as we approach the bar. He has dark hair and smile lines around his mouth. His eyes twinkle with a mix of mischief and delight. Elias juts a thumb over his shoulder and points to me.
“Goldie’s granddaughter Nora.” Then, Elias looks back at me. “This is the bar owner, Silas Calder. You already met his older brother, the sheriff, and his mom who runs The Nest Box Inn.”
I give the man a polite wave. “Nice to meet you. I hear Grandma had a spot here.”
Silas’s smile softens to a gentle one. “She sure did. Goldie will always have a place here.”
“You’re busy,” Elias says, gesturing at the packed bar. “I’ll show her up there. Bring us the Goldie Special.”
Silas salutes him. “Aye-aye, captain.”
Elias heads for the end of the bar and then disappears down a dark hallway. I scurry after him, eager to see her place with my own eyes. We pass several doors that lead to storage rooms, a kitchen, an office, but at the very end is a stairwell. Elias stops when he reaches the steps and rubs at the back of his head.
“What is it?” I ask, voice barely above a whisper.
He lets loose a rush of air. “I used to carry her up here. The steps were too steep and dangerous for her.”
My eyes water and my heart cracks down the middle. There’s obvious pain in his words that I feel down to my soul. As angry as he’s made me since coming here, I can’t help but appreciate his love for my grandma. If things weren’t strained between us already, I’d offer him a comforting hug.
“I can walk,” I say quietly. “Come on. Let’s go.”
He nods and then starts up the steps, each movement sluggish and slow as if it’s taking all that’s in him to get to the top. At one point, I reach for his back, the urge to console him so strong, but then jerk my hand away.
There’s a small landing and then the stairs curve around. When we make it to the top, I get a whiff of tobacco and the faint scent of Grandma’s perfume lingering in the air.
Elias steps out of the way, not saying a word, and sweeps a hand across the small area. It appears to be an old attic or storage room. There are windows along one side that overlook the bay. In front of the biggest window is a small, floral fabric covered sitting chair. Beside that is a round wooden end table with a small lamp, a coaster, and a tobacco pipe laying on its side. In front of the sitting chair is a mismatched ottoman that’s peach velvet with brass buttons along the side. Next to the big window is a giant bell the size of my head.
As if he’s been here a million times before, Elias walks over to the far end of the room where a bench sits nestled against the wall. There’s a small table with another coaster nearby. His massive frame falls onto the bench as if the trip up the stairs wiped out all his energy. I note that his eyebrows are pinched as if he’s in pain and his lips are pulled into a slight frown.
Before I get caught witnessing his unapologetic grief, I make my way over to Grandma’s chair. As soon as I sit down onto the comfy cushion, her scent wraps around me like a fog of memories. I stretch my legs out and set my feet on the soft ottoman before letting my gaze rest on the bay outside.
The sounds of the busy bar down below are muted. Seagulls peck at each other outside on the small balcony, their squawks making their way inside.
Heavy footsteps thud up the stairs and soon Silas enters the room. In each hand he has a tall glass of tea with three cut lemons hanging off the lip of each glass.
He sets one down on the coaster beside me and then does the same for Elias. Then, Silas crosses his arms over his chest as he scrutinizes me.
“Can I get you anything else?” he asks. “An order of onion rings?”
I shake my head. “This is good for now. Thank you.”
“She was a good woman,” Silas says, voice low and gritty. “We all loved her. Just thought you should know that.”
His words bring tears to my eyes. I can’t look at him as he leaves or I’ll start full-on sobbing. To distract myself, I snatch up the tea and take a huge gulp. It’s sweet and cold and just the right amount of lemon. I’m thrown back to the past summers as a kid where I’d play hard in the heat of the day outside until Grandma would force me inside to drink some of her cold sweet tea. The flavor is exactly as I remember it.
“I thought you didn’t like sugar,” I say after savoring another long gulp.
Elias grunts. “It should be called the Elias Special because there’s no sugar in mine.”
