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Whitney pulled a magnet off the fridge holding a lined piece of pink paper and handed it to Jeanette. As she skimmed down the list, she realized her cousins weren’t joking. There was landscaping work they wanted to do themselves, rooms to strip that weren’t being used, and they wanted to complete an inventory of the furniture as well as a detailed list of what goes where. The list went on, and at the bottom of it were the wordsweekly menu planning.
“What’s this one mean?” Jeanette asked, pointing to it. Whitney read it over her shoulder and then nodded.
“Oh yeah, we forgot to tell you about that. Since we’ve decided to keep the kitchen the way it is, we decided to put our catering and service license to use to make up for some of the funds we’re not getting for being closed to overnight guests. We do a closed-menu dinner service here every Thursday, Friday, and Saturday. When we can find the help, we also cater events.”
“It’s pretty successful,” Amanda chimed in, “plus it’s a great way to get people interested in booking rooms whenever we’re ready again. They come in, get to see our place, eat our amazing food—”
“And while they do that, we get to talk about how great this place is,” Whitney interrupted. “It eats away at our profits a little, though, especially now that it’s so popular. We have to hire a server or two to help with the workload, and we don’t accept tips, so the hourly has to be pretty high.”
“Well, I can take care of that,” Jeanette replied happily, “and you don’t even have to pay me!”
“Don’t be silly.” Amanda laughed. “Of course, we’d pay you. And greatly appreciate your help, but we were going to cancel this week’s service so you’d have time to settle in.”
Jeanette shook her head, getting back up.
“Don’t do that. It’s kind that you’re allowing me to stay here, but I don’t want to be the reason you’re losing any money. Seriously, if you haven’t sent out the cancellation memo yet, let’s go ahead and do it. What’s your menu for this weekend?”
Amanda went to a drawer, pulled out a pink notebook that the page had come from, and opened it up to the last page.
“So, we were thinking of doing a casual dining situation outside on the beach. Since the season is almost over, we thought we’d do one last outdoor hoorah. Hawaiian barbeque style with chicken, shrimp, and beef, some macaroni salad and some sort of rice dish, and a few roasted veggies. For appetizers, I wrote down grilled clams and mussels with some toast points. And then for dessert offer something really chocolatey and something really fruity.”
“That sounds amazing,” Jeanette agreed, reading over the ingredient list. “Why don’t I go get most of the groceries you guys need? Thursday’s only a couple of days away and it’ll all keep. Then Thursday morning I can go to the fish market and pick out some fresh clams and mussels.”
“Are you sure?” Whitney asked, placing a comforting hand on Jeanette’s shoulder. “I mean, that sounds great, really, but if you’re not up to it…”
Jeanette reached up and patted Whitney’s hand.
“I’m up for it,” she promised. “Do you guys mind if I get the keys to the van? Oh, and is Morrison’s still open? Is that where you go?”
Amanda nodded and pulled the shuttle van keys off the row of hooks along the kitchen wall.
“Yep. Wait until you see what they’ve done with the place. They’ve really spruced it up since you’ve last been here,” she said, handing the keys to Jeanette. “I’ll give Wilma a call when you’re on your way over and have her put your name on our tab. And please feel free to get anything you want for yourself. We really do want you to be comfortable here.”
Whitney nodded her head, writing out another small list of groceries they wanted for themselves. Jeanette accepted it, went upstairs to change, and in a few minutes, she was out the door and on her way to Morrison’s. Like everything else about the past, the way there came back to her, and in ten minutes she found herself in the nearly full parking lot of Morrison’s Grocers and Spirits.
Amanda had been right, the old family store had really grown up since she’d last been home. They still stuck with the organic and locally sourced products, but the selection had more than tripled. Soon, she found herself wandering through the aisles, taking in the views of the beautifully branded options that were both understated and classy. In fact, halfway through shopping, she found herself pretending she wasn’t back home at all, but in a fancy French upscale store, strolling pleasantly in her pale yellow sundress.
“Well, look who it is.”
A man’s voice pierced through Jeanette’s daydream, bringing her back to reality. She looked away from the selection of canned fish, and for a moment, she couldn’t place the rather unhappy face that was staring back at her. His dark eyes were beady and nearly hidden with gray, bushy eyebrows. He had a cowboy mustache that made him look more of a creeper than a man on the range, and he had jowls that likened him to a bulldog. Unlike the other people in the store, who were fairly well-dressed, he wore a pair of dirty jeans and a plain, dark green t-shirt that fitted over his protruding belly like a second skin.
“I’m sorry, but I think you might have me confused with someone else,” Jeanette said, starting to feel uncomfortable by the way he was looking at her.
The man chortled as he hiked his thumbs into his belt loops.
“What, you don’t have love for your family anymore?” he asked.
Like running into a brick wall, Jeanette was jarred as she suddenly understood who she was talking to. Amanda and Whitney’s stepbrother Joe didn’t at all resemble the kid that had once terrorized her and over half of the kids in the neighborhood. He had the same eyes, sure, but other than that, there was nothing left of what the muscular, angry teenager used to be.
“Well, hi, Joe,” Jeanette said. She was struggling to find more words to say, but nothing polite came to mind. Instead, she pressed her lips together tightly and began shifting from one sandaled foot to the other uncomfortably.
“Hi back,” he said gruffly. “What are you doing here?”
A myriad of possible answers came flooding to Jeanette’s mind, but there were none that she felt comfortable giving him. In fact, for some reason, she wanted Joe to know as little as possible.”
“Shopping,” she replied waving her hand around with a flourish.
His beady eyes stared at her suspiciously, then he grunted as his lips pulled up into a smirk.
