Postcards from Cedar Key (19 page)

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Authors: Terri DuLong

BOOK: Postcards from Cedar Key
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O
n the morning of November first I'd just unlocked the door of the shop to open for business and Saxton walked in.
Pulling me into an embrace, he said, “Good morning, beautiful. I missed you.”
I laughed and put my arms around his neck. “You just saw me last evening.”
“Much too long apart. We have to work on fixing that.”
I pulled away and walked over to rearrange a few crystals that were out of order. “What time is Resa getting here?” I asked, purposely avoiding Muriel's name.
“They should be here around three. That's why I wanted to stop by, to tell you I'm taking them to dinner this evening at the Island Hotel, but I'll call you later after I get home.”
“Oh, okay.” Again, that ripple of jealousy appeared. Muriel would be spending the evening with Saxton. And I would not.
“Oh, before I forget. I didn't think you'd mind, but Doyle had nowhere to go for Thanksgiving, so I've invited him to join us.”
“Sure. That's great.”
Saxton walked over to give me another hug that was followed by a kiss.
“I love you, Berkley. I'll talk to you later,” he said, and headed out.
I wished I could shake the sour feeling that had been nagging at me all morning, and looked up to see Mr. Carl walk into the shop.
“A bright and glorious morning to you, Miss Berkley,” he said, causing me to smile. It was difficult being down for long around somebody like Mr. Carl.
“And to you,” I told him. “How's it going?”
“Wonderful. Miss Raylene and I are headed to Gainesville in a little while, but I had to stop and get my chocolates. Wouldn't want to miss my daily dose.”
A huge grin covered his face, followed by a wink. Which made me wonder if possibly my chocolate might have a tad of Viagra ingredients, and I laughed.
I boxed up his purchase and said, “Oh, what are you and Raylene doing for Thanksgiving?”
“I don't rightly know. We haven't really talked about it.”
“Well, I don't want you to be alone. I'm cooking, but we're having the dinner at Saxton's house, and I'd like to invite you and Miss Raylene. I don't want you to be alone on a holiday.”
“That's sure mighty kind of you. I'll talk to her about it and get back to you.”
I smiled as he walked out the door. Okay, that's it, Berkley. Ten for dinner is the limit.
 
I closed the shop an hour early on Friday afternoon. Dinner reservations were for seven o'clock, and I'd spent two hours going through my clothes trying to decide what to wear. Just as I'd about given up hope, I heard Chloe at the door.
“Just came over to see . . . oh . . .” she said, staring at my shorts and tee shirt. “Not dressed yet? I thought the dinner was at seven. I wanted to see what you were wearing.”
“It is,” I said, almost on the verge of tears. “I have no idea what I'm wearing because nothing in my closet seems appropriate.”
“Uh-oh. You need a girlfriend rescue. Come on,” she said, grabbing my hand and leading me to her apartment and into the bedroom. “We're the same size, take your pick.”
She flung open her closet door.
I momentarily thought I was in a department store when I saw all the dresses, skirts, and other items hanging neatly side by side.
“My God, I never realized you had so many clothes.”
“Yeah, hardly wear any of them anymore. But I sure stocked up when I used to shop in Jacksonville and Atlanta. What's your pleasure?”
I laughed and walked over to begin an inspection.
Between the two of us we finally decided on an ankle-length, silky black skirt with a pale pink silk tank top. Black sandals completed the outfit.
I spun around in front of her mirror. “I feel ravishing,” I said, laughing.
“You
look
sexy. Saxton will love it.”
“Are you sure? It's all right to borrow this?”
“Of course it is. I'm glad somebody can get some use out of it.”
I leaned over to give Chloe a hug. “Thank you so much. You're the best.”
“Oh, and we can't forget this,” she said, picking up a bottle of Chanel No 5 and giving a few sprays to my neck.
By the time I headed down Second Street to the Island Room, I truly
did
feel ravishing. That is, until I walked into the restaurant and met Saxton's ex-wife.
 
The three of them were already seated when I arrived. I shot a quick glance to Resa and saw a young woman of medium height and build, with a mass of dark curls falling to her shoulders. The resemblance to Saxton was amazing. But it was Resa's mother who caused my gaze to linger. Sitting beside Saxton, she looked like a fashion model from
Vogue.
Pale blond hair was pulled back into a French twist, and I could see she was wearing a sleeveless sheath dress of cobalt blue that contrasted perfectly with her hair. Makeup looked like it had been applied by a technician from Lancôme, and I caught a thick gold bracelet on the slim wrist she was waving in the air.
Saxton looked up, saw me, and rushed to greet me with a hug, which momentarily restored my equilibrium.
“Come on,” he said, grabbing my hand and leading me to the table. “I want you to meet my daughter.” He got ten points for not also including Muriel in the sentence.
“Berkley, this is my daughter, Resa.”
She took me by surprise when she got up and came over to give me a hug.
“It's so nice to meet you,” she said.
“Same here. I've heard so much about you, and welcome to Cedar Key.”
“And this is Resa's mother, Muriel.”
Another ten points for not referring to her as his ex-wife.
I reached out my hand in greeting and for a moment thought she wasn't going to reciprocate, but she gave me a limp shake.
“Yes, nice to meet you, Berkley,” she said in an accent that sounded somewhere between haughty and condescending.
Saxton was seated at the head of the table and indicated the chair to his right.
“Doyle's running a little late but should be here shortly. I took the liberty of ordering a bottle of champagne,” he said, reaching for the bottle in the ice bucket and then filling my glass.
I felt awkward and out of place, but I wasn't about to let it show.
“How do you like Cedar Key?” I asked, looking across the table.
“Oh, it's gorgeous,” Resa said. “It must be wonderful to live here all the time.”
“What exactly do you
do
here?” Muriel questioned.
“Do? Well, I own a chocolate shop and I have a knitting business on the side, so I'm kept pretty busy. But there are all kinds of activities going on at various clubs . . .” I knew this information sounded pretty dismal to somebody that looked and spoke like Muriel. “So really, one can be as busy as they'd like to be or not.”
“I see,” was all she said, and I was saved from any more questions as Doyle approached the table.
Introductions were made. He sat beside me and patted my hand. “How's everything with you, Berkley?”
“Good. Thanks.”
“So are you enjoying your stay here so far?” he asked both women.
“I just love it,” Resa said. “I can see why my dad wants to live here. It must be a great place to be a writer.”
Muriel remained silent.
“Yes, it's a great atmosphere. And Doyle is an artist, so he gets a lot of his inspiration here too.”
Muriel took a sip of champagne. “Saxton tells me you're also a fisherman? Do you do that for a hobby?”
I glanced at Doyle and caught a smile on his face. “I do now, but I was raised here and fishing was my family business.”
Muriel only nodded.
Saxton raised his glass. “I want to propose a toast. To my daughter. Thank you for agreeing to see me, and I love you.”
As we touched glasses I saw the moisture in Resa's eyes as she said, “I love you too.”
Muriel I could certainly do without, but it was easy to see that the father/daughter reunion was going very well, and I was thrilled for Saxton.
Just then Muriel leaned into Saxton's arm as she looked up at him with a sultry expression. “And you'll just have to get out to Seattle now and start spending more time with
our
daughter. I would think you could write there as well as here.”
What? Was she trying to entice him to move out to the West Coast to be near her?
“Well, I don't know about that,” he said. “I'll definitely get out there for a visit, but Cedar Key is my home now.”
Right. You tell her, Saxton. And besides, the closest salon that could cater to somebody like Muriel was a one-hour drive away. Not that she'd consider moving to a place where she had to question what one
does
here.
Somehow we managed to get through dinner conversation with Doyle acting as a buffer.
When the crème brûlée and coffee were served, Saxton leaned over and whispered, “You look gorgeous in that outfit.”
I sent a silent thank-you to Chloe just as I caught the sour look on Muriel's face.
She reached for his arm as if divorce hadn't canceled out ownership on her part and said, “So, Sax, what will we be doing tomorrow? Are there any other places for me to shop, or are those little gift shops all you have?”
Sax? What was with this
Sax?
Doyle laughed. “Well, if you're looking for Neiman Marcus, you won't find it here on this island.”
From the neutral expression on Muriel's face, it was clear she didn't find that humorous.
“I'm afraid we only have the art galleries and gift shops, Muriel,” Saxton said, without an ounce of sorrow in his tone.
“Besides, I want to spend more time with Dad. He said we could take the Island Hopper out tomorrow and take a ride up the Suwannee River.”
Muriel let out a sigh. “Well, then I guess I'll spend the day on the beach reading. I get seasick and have no tolerance for boats.”
Why am I not surprised?
I thought.
By the time we finished dessert I had formed the opinion that I liked Saxton's daughter a lot. Throughout the evening, she'd gone out of her way to ask me questions and tell me about her position with the computer firm in Seattle. She also mentioned her husband, Jake, a lot and it was obvious that they had a close relationship.
When we got up to leave, she hugged me again and said, “I've already told Dad that I'll be back again next year and I'll be bringing Jake with me. So I look forward to seeing you again.”
I wasn't sure which I was impressed with more—the fact that she shared this with me or the fact that she somehow assumed her father and I would still be together in a year.
Saxton leaned over to touch my lips before pulling me into an embrace. “If it's okay with you, I'll drop Resa and Muriel off first at the B and B and then take you home.”
“That would be great. Thanks,” I said, and followed him to the parking lot.
I turned to say good-bye to Doyle. “And I'll see you on Thanksgiving, if not before. My aunt will also be there, and she's bringing some photos of my mom. Maybe that will help jog some memories.”
“Maybe so,” was his reply.
When I turned around to get into Saxton's car, I did a slow boil. That nasty Muriel had managed to grab the passenger seat for herself, leaving me no option but to join Resa in the backseat.
Conversation was brief on the short distance, and before leaving the car, Resa leaned over for another hug. “Now, you take care,” she said. “I'll be in touch through my dad, and I look forward to seeing you next year.”
I got out to join Saxton in the front seat and realized that Muriel hadn't even uttered a good-bye to me.
Saxton turned the car around and headed down Second Street.
“I love your daughter,” I told him with honesty. “She reminds me a lot of you.”
He nodded. “Thanks. Yeah, I'm pretty proud of her, even though I had very little to do with her upbringing.”
He then let out a chuckle. “Her mother leaves a lot to be desired though. Whew! She was pretty difficult when I was married to her, but now . . . as you can see, she sure didn't mellow with age.”
Relief swept over me. Silly, I know, but all evening I had a nagging thought that he might regain interest in her. His words allowed me to know that my fears were unfounded.

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