Read Online Summer at the Shore Leave Cafe by Abbie Williams - Free Book Online Page B

 And then, “Let’s get home. Enough excitement for tonight, huh?”
    It rained that night, a steady downpour through which thunder rumbled and lightning backlit the curtains at regular intervals.  I told myself this was why I couldn’t sleep, not because of my thoughts that kept circling back around to Blythe sitting so close to me at the bar. Again I played over our conversation, whispering his name, his grandmother’s maiden name that was now his. And then I would curl around my stomach and just drift into a restless sleep when thunder would grumble yet again and my eyes would flinch open.
    ***
    A few days later Landon’s Trout Days, our official small-town celebration opened with a fish fry, parade, and street dance. And that was just Friday.
    The girls were beside themselves with excitement Friday morning; Clint was going to drive them into town for the parade on the ancient golf cart that Dodge kept in the shed. The girls were wearing what had become their summer uniforms: jean shorts over their swimsuits, hair in high ponytails. Camille had on a bikini top, slightly on the skimpy side, and one that I had never before seen. I was sitting with Aunt Ellen and Gran, sipping coffee, and watching my girls make their way into the café, debating whether or not to say something about my eldest’s mostly-bare torso. Gran, however, took the decision out of my hands, gesturing with her cane and wondering aloud, “Camille, what’s that dental floss around your neck?”
    Aunt Ellen hid a smile in her coffee; I watched, ready to do damage control if necessary.
    Camille knelt near Gran’s chair and hooked her wrist over the back of it, giving her great-granny a winning smile. For a second she looked exactly like her father. She said, “Gran, it’s just my bathing suit.”
    Gran harrumphed, not one to be easily charmed. “Well, one tug on those strings and you’ll be bare naked from the waist up, girl.”
    Ruthie came to give me a kiss, but Tish laughed, loving every moment of Gran scolding her big sister. Camille shot me a look that clearly asked for help. I sighed, torn between Gran’s authority and my own. At long last I said, “Bring a t-shirt along, honey, just in case.”
    â€œI was going to anyway,” she let me know, sounding the slightest bit defiant.
    â€œFabulous,” I replied, matching her tone with an edge of sarcasm.
    The girls took off with Clint minutes later. I was mildly concerned that her older sisters wouldn’t keep an eye on Ruthie, but then reminded myself that she was twelve, not a toddler, and was headed into Landon, not downtown Chicago. Jilly and I had run wild all around Landon, the lake, and Shore Leave since the summer we were seven and eight. Probably even earlier. Besides, I planned to join them after the lunch crowd was gone, nostalgic for the decorations that hadn’t changed since I was a kid: the huge plaster replica of a rainbow trout, the nets, lures and poles strung between all the local businesses, the scent of fish and cheese curds frying. It would make a native Chicagoan cringe and run in the opposite direction; fortunately my girls had spent enough time here to refrain from being judgmental.
    We watched as the four of them, Clint and Tish in the front, Camille and Ruthie in back, clung to the roll bars as Clint hightailed it down the gravel road. I could hear their laughter through the screen door, and sighed, depression momentarily almost crushing me as I contemplated how long it had been since I’d laughed that way. I mentally scolded myself in the next moment for being so morbid, when Aunt Ellen commented, “It seems like yesterday that was you and Jillian.”
    â€œI know, it’s scary how fast time flies,” I agreed, shoulders sagging a little. I bolstered myself with a sip of the strong coffee.
    â€œThings will get better, Joey,” Gran said then, elbows braced on