Page 153 of Key West Homecoming

Jake glanced over. “There are a few around.”

A hen crossed beneath the next table with four chicks behind her. A cat on the wall watched without much interest.

“Jake, there's a rooster on that chair.”

“That's his chair.”

“His?”

“Sure. You'll notice nobody else is sitting there.”

Emma laughed.

She ordered the jerk chicken. Jake had shrimp, and afterward they split a piece of key lime pie topped with four inches of meringue.

Emma studied it when it arrived.

“That can't be structural.”

“Eat the pie, Emma.”

“I'm assessing it.”

“You're stalling because you know you're about to admit something.”

She took a bite.

Jake waited.

Emma took another.

“This might be the best thing on the island.”

“I knew it.”

By the time they finished, only a small piece of crust remained.

Jake looked at the plate. “I'm pretty sure you had more than I did.”

“I'm the tourist. You're sacrificing for my enjoyment.”

“All right, but I want that recorded for the future.”

The words caught Emma's attention.

For the future.

Jake said them casually, but she liked the sound of them anyway.

They walked to the Southernmost Point and waited in line behind about thirty people. A man from Wisconsin took their picture with Emma's phone. He took four because the first three included a stranger's elbow, and apparently the man from Wisconsin had standards.

Emma looked at the words painted on the buoy.

Ninety miles to Cuba.

“That's closer than Miami.”

“By a good bit.”