Read Summer at the Shore Leave Cafe for Free Online

be honest with them, I couldn’t bear to reveal that particular truth.
    â€œNice t-shirt, Gran,” Jilly observed, steering the conversation onto a new path. Clint wasn’t hugely observant, especially with food in front of him, but he certainly didn’t need to be inadvertently informed about my husband’s lover, either. “Is that one Dodge got for you?”
    Gran smirked, sitting up straighter so I could read the words printed across her shirtfront. Gran loved t-shirts with slogans; this particular one was navy blue and announced: EVERYONE IS ENTITLED TO MY OPINION. I giggled.
    â€œSpeaking of the devil,” Gran said, as the front porch thundered with Dodge’s footsteps. I jumped up again and ran to give Dodge a big hug; it was damn good to see him. He caught me up and growled into my neck, then released me for a kiss on the cheek.
    â€œHi, honey,” he said. “It sure is good to see you coming up the lake road for breakfast. Takes me back to the olden days, you know?” His voice still rumbled like thunder in the next county.
    â€œIt’s good to be here,” I replied. And it was, no matter what the circumstances.
    â€œThe boy says hello,” Dodge went on, referring to his son, Justin. “He was heading out on the lake this morning.”
    â€œHow is he doing?” I asked, trying to curb my profound curiosity. “I haven’t seen Justin in years.”
    Dodge opened his mouth but Gran filled in, living up to her shirt: “He’s in a bad place, Jo, real bitter. He can’t get over his accident.”
    To my surprise, Dodge didn’t argue. He sighed and accepted the coffee Jilly held out to him. He sipped and then added, “Lou’s right, Joelle, much as I hate to admit it.”
    Gran pursed her lips in satisfaction and Clint looked on, his own eyes full of questions.
    â€œHow bad is it?” I asked, directing the question to Dodge, but again Gran answered, “He is still a handsome devil. He always had such a pretty face, looked just like Marjorie. But the scarring is hard on his vanity. You’ll just have to see for yourself, Joelle.”
    Ruthann came through the swinging door between the kitchen and dining rooms and scampered over for a hug. She was young for her age, with a sweeter disposition than her sisters; at twelve, neither Camille nor Tish would have been overly willing to hug me in public. I reached out my arm and snuggled her while Dodge ruffled her hair. Tish reappeared and Gran began to badger her about her earrings, and in the ensuing hubbub I forgot all about Justin Miller.
    By twelve-thirty, Shore Leave was packed with fishermen. I donned a pale blue Shore Leave apron over my shorts, reprising my role as server along with Jilly and Camille. Tish was helping in the kitchen while Mom and Aunt Ellen took care of seating and bartending, respectively. I fell right back into the ebb and flow of waiting tables, even enjoying myself in the familiar space, bantering with Rich’s buddies as they ordered mugs of beer and fried fish sandwiches. Jilly and I took care of the porch crowd, letting Camille take the indoor tables, which weren’t as busy; she was still getting used to the whole waitressing gig. I watched her surreptitiously as she worked, marveling anew at how lovely and grown-up she looked, my prim, intelligent, dreamer of an eldest daughter, her dark curls held back in a barrette, her cheeks flushed and her eyes merry. It struck me that at her age I’d been with Jackie for nearly two years; had spent countless hours in the backseat of his car and in his parents’ basement drinking cheap wine and listening to Billy Squires and Van Halen; had been making love in every conceivable position known to two teenagers in the early ’80s.
    Oh Camille , I thought, my heart pulsing with an ancient ache. I was so very glad she’d yet to have a serious boyfriend; I couldn’t bear to imagine my