Only Emma (2 page)

It took but a minute to serve him because he ordered the same thing for himself and Horace, his crew, when he wasn't buying lunches for paying customers. Apparently he would earn no charter fees today.

Her mother had everything ready for him.

"Have a good day," Lissey said as he turned to leave the shop.

He grinned over his shoulder at her. "See you tonight."

Not if she could help it. She caught the eye of Mr. Nosy Live-aboard.

He smiled. He looked much better than he had on his boat. Clean-shaven, neatly dressed in shorts and a faded blue Tee, his hair combed back, not a bad looking man at all. That pugnacious chin and those brown eyes with their beautiful long lashes made quite a combination. Eyebrows dark, in contrast to his hideous dyed red hair. What was it with this guy?

"Can I help you?" she asked.

"You wanted me to pay the dockage fee."

"Oh yes, of course." How had she forgotten that? She stepped behind the ancient brass cash register and drew a check-in form from the shelf beneath it. "Fill that out. I'll need a credit card. The fee is eight U.S. dollars a foot. How long is your boat?"

"Thirty-five feet. Do you give a discount for an extended stay?"

"No, but you can take a mooring in the harbor for forty dollars a week. Or drop an anchor further out for free."

"Does that provide us dinghy access to your dock?"

She gave him a nod. "We have launch service for the moorings." When Louis was available, but he didn't need to know that at the moment.

He smiled. "The smell of your bakery is too much to resist. That will be important."

"We're more than a bakery," she said as a touch of heat flushed her cheeks. By gosh, he could be sweet. A tremor of emotion poked her heart. The man did something to her. Stirred up anger, yes, but not entirely at him. There was more too, a kind of tension or excitement she wasn't entirely clear about. He knocked her off balance; she had to settle down. He was just a customer after all, to be treated politely no matter what. Well, as long as he behaved himself.

"I'm not surprised," he said. "Are you serving breakfast yet?"

She glanced at her watch. Seven eighteen, close enough. She never turned down a paying customer if she could help it. There weren't that many of them on the island, even during tourist season. "Take a table and fill out the registration. I'll bring you coffee. Unless you want tea?"

He accepted the registration form and smiled again. "Coffee, thanks. And juice for my son. You got a pen I can use?"

She found a pen beside the register and handed it over. Then it struck her—his son? What in the world?

"Come on David, let's grab a table," he said and turned away.

Emma, or David, bless his or her heart, wandered over to the big glass case where the baked goods were displayed. The father sat down at the table near the door to do the necessary paperwork.

He hadn't specified what juice to give the child, so she decided to ask the little one. She, or he, seemed quite responsible anyway.

"Em-David, what kind of juice would you like?" she said.

"Orange," the child said.

Her father didn't even look up. What kind of a parent let his five-year old order anything she wanted?

"What's that red thing?" Emma asked, pointing at the goodies in the case.

"Oh, those are miniature cherry tarts. They're very sweet."

"I want one of those."

Lissey glanced at the father. His face wrinkled in frowning concentration, he showed no sign of having heard a word she'd said.

"If your Daddy says it's all right." All she needed was to serve the child and have him wake up and throw a fit.

Emma was a sweetie though, nodding and then joining him at the table without another word.

She delivered coffee and OJ to them as Louis Pico entered the shop. Louis worked the gas dock and the launch. He started early every day. Past middle age, skinny as a rail and graying on top, he liked her coffee and mango rotis in the morning.

"Hi Louis," she called. "Be right with you."

He grinned and waved a hand as if to say no problem, then stepped past the register to draw a coffee for himself. Things were pretty relaxed on the island, at least among the locals.

"Are you ready to order?" she asked Mr. Live-aboard.

"What does David want?" he said as he handed over the registration form.

"A cherry tart," the child said.

"And some OJ," Lissey pointed out.

The man nodded. "Okay, make that two on the tarts. You got any corn muffins?"

"American food, yes."

"I'll have one of those too."

She couldn't help herself, blurted out before she could stop. "Sweets? That's all you want?"

He gave her a very serious look. "We make eggs or steak or oatmeal every day on the boat. Today we're living it up."

"All right," she said and then added, "I'll need your credit card for the boat."

He drew out his wallet. "Cash okay?"

He didn't want to use a credit card? Everybody used plastic or tried to give her a personal check. Those were almost always rubber so she didn't accept them. Strangely though, few boaters ever paid cash. She stared at him for a second, then caught herself and nodded. "Two hundred and eighty U.S. dollars then."

"I signed up for a mooring. One week. We'll move the boat as soon as we finish breakfast."

She scanned the form. He was right of course. Bruce Duncan, his name jumped out at her. "All right, I'm sorry. Forty dollars even. Take one of the yellow moorings then."

He peeled off two twenties and passed them across the table.

"I'll get you a receipt."

"No need."

She waved the registration form in front of him. "My pen please?"

"Oh yeah, sorry, I forgot.
"

Lissey dropped the form beside the register and prepared to serve their breakfast.

"What's this?" her mother said as she waved goodbye to Louis.

"Transients. They came in last night."

Her mom glanced at the registration sheet then peered around the display case and checked out their breakfast customers. "Mmm, he's cute."

"Sort of, yeah," Lissey said. She headed for their table, plated tarts and muffin balanced in her hands.

Her mother stood there studying the form when she came back. "What's so interesting?" Lissey asked.

"He's American. From Boston."

"He doesn't sound like it," she muttered.

"It's just him and the little boy."

She glanced at the sheet. Number in party—he had written "2" in the allotted space.

"He's a girl," Lissey mumbled again.

Lavinia blinked. "The boy?"

She grinned. "Not the guy."

"Of course not. But the boy's a girl?"

"Apparently."

Lavinia stared at Emma for a moment, shook her head, then turned back to Lissey. "What's with his red hair? You can't tell me that's natural."

"I'm not."

"You know what I mean. It's certainly a dye job."

"Why don't you ask him?" Lissey said.

"What's eating you this morning? You're so grumpy."

"Nothing."

"Are you depressed? You've been withdrawn and quiet for weeks."

"I'm fine, Mom."

"Is it Caroline? Are you—"

"Mom! Leave it alone. Please."

"It's your father, isn't it? Him and his bridegroom candidates."

Lissey drew a deep breath. That was a safe topic for discussion at the moment, thank goodness. Far better than telling her mother she had ideas about leaving home. "Peter came in all primed and cheerful this morning. I'm surprised he didn't try to put a ring on my finger."

"Did you set him straight?"

"I tried. Again. The man doesn't listen."

"He is a nice man," Lavinia murmured.

"Don't you start. He has about as much sex appeal as a dead shark."

"There's more to life than that."

"With him there'd have to be."

Lavinia patted her arm. "I know dear. I'm sorry."

Lissey kissed her then caught the eye of Mr. Bruce Duncan over her shoulder. He sent her a very fine smile.

A spurt of heat rushed to her heart. She wanted to be mad at his nerve, but somehow that just didn't come off quite right. He definitely had the looks; about a thousand percent better than anybody on the island, dyed hair notwithstanding. Just because Peter made her angry she had no reason to be mad at Bruce. Well, he'd been a little surly down at the dock but that attitude had faded considerably.

Patti Mumford wandered through the green doors with her usual cheery, "Good morning," and that was great with Lissey. She'd had enough to do with men this morning.

Lissey's height, with bright blonde hair and a body to wish for, Patti made her jealous. Except, she hadn't found a good man among the island's heroes and visiting live-aboards yet either. She hadn't given up all hope though, and one glance at Bruce Duncan stopped her in her tracks.

"Hi," she said. "New to the island?"

Bruce grinned. "Just passing through. You are?"

"Patti Mumford."

He offered his hand. "Bruce Duncan. And this is my son, David."

Lissey's breath caught. Again, his son. David? What the devil was going on? She felt as if she had fallen down the rabbit hole.

Patti shook his hand, gave the child a smile without even blinking, and Lissey could have killed her. And herself. Why had she been so bitchy to the man? Then again, what was this business about his son? Something was rotten in Denmark. Not to mention she'd had her fill of live-aboards thanks to Ramon.

"Your usual this morning Patti?" Lavinia asked.

"Hi, Mama. I'll have tea I think. My stomach was a little fidgety last night. Too much party time, I guess."

"I'll get it," Lissey said, happy to escape the flirtation unfolding before her. Ever the optimist, Patti would give this guy a try. There was passing through, and passing through, when it came to island people; like a few days or twenty years. Patti's passing through had begun a dozen years ago and she showed no signs of leaving. She'd even taken to calling Lavinia "Mama" they'd known her so long. But, Lissey would bet the right guy could close up Mumford's Books and Souvenirs in a flash.

She poured the tea, grabbed a pumpkin roti, and turned back to the register.

"You own the bookshop then?" Bruce was saying.

"Books and souvenirs, Mumford's, that's me."

"What time do you open? David needs some new reading material."

Patti batted her eyes, Lissey could swear she did. "As soon as I have my tea."

Now there was a fiction bit if Lissey ever heard one. Patti normally sat around and gabbed for at least an hour and a half every morning. Not that Lissey minded. Normally. She was always full of island gossip, and Lissey enjoyed those early morning gab sessions. Patti had set her sails for Mr. Duncan though, that was very clear. Lissey's belly tightened at the thought. She couldn't be jealous? Could she? The man was weird with that ridiculous red hair, she had to remember that.

"Okay, that's great. We have shopping to do, so we'll stop by in a little while," Bruce said and wandered into the store part of the shop. Lissey sold a little bit of everything. Meals, baked goods, and convenience store fare, wine and beer, all of which she carried mostly for itinerant boaters.

Bruce's action left Patti looking a little non-plussed, but she picked up her tea and made the best of it, heading off to open her store. Lissey'd bet she would have preferred to spend the morning over tea and coffee with the man, but he really hadn't given her the choice.

Bruce and Emma cum David perused the aisles, picking up the occasional can of beans or pickles or whatever, checking prices, reading labels. Quite often it was Emma, er, David, who selected something and offered it to her father for review. Lissey couldn't distinguish what they were saying, but he seemed to consider the child's opinion seriously. He treated the little one with respect and great consideration. That warmed Lissey's heart. Caroline would have been a child like Emma.

"Can I help you find something?" she asked, surprising herself with the question. They obviously didn't need her, so why had she asked?

"Can we buy fresh vegetables somewhere on the island?" he asked.

"Ice cream too?" Emma said.

Her question made Lissey smile. She was a darling little girl and so smart. Darn it, why did he call her David? "I have ice cream here. Veggies you mostly have to get from Pineda's."

"Where's that?" Bruce asked.

"Pretty much the other end of the island. About six miles."

"That's the only other store?"

He wanted to shop somewhere else? Well phooey on him. But, she didn't need his business so what the heck. Oh yeah, who was she kidding. Every dime in the register counted. She forced a smile. "There's Morgan's. That's two miles down the road, but I have more produce than they do."