Casting About Read online

  I had switched my hours from ten till two at the yarn shop. Dora and I worked it out that I’d take Wednesdays off work and cover the shop for a few hours on Saturdays.

  I was due at the shop at ten and had been grateful for the extra hour of sleep I’d gotten. Just stepping from the shower, I heard the phone ringing.

  Adam was outside mowing the lawn, so I raced to grab it at the bedside. I heard the unmistakable voice of Carrie Sue talking to Clarissa.

  “And so?” I heard her say. “Do you really want to stay there? Don’t ya know that Mama’s been missin’ you terribly?”

  Silence from Clarissa’s end of the phone.

  “Clarissa Jo, this is your mama. You’re supposed to be with me. What’s that father of yours gone and done? Turned you against me, I bet he has!”

  My God, the woman was intimidating her own daughter. I flung my bathrobe on and ran out to the great room, where I found Clarissa holding the phone to her ear, still not saying a word. Her face shot up when she saw me.

  “Give me the phone,” I told her. Was that a look of relief on her face as she willingly passed it to me?

  “Carrie Sue, this is Monica. You have no right to be speaking to Clarissa like that. If you want to discuss this situation, hold on and I’ll get Adam.”

  “Don’t bother!” she yelled into the phone before the loud click assaulted my ear.

  I let out a deep breath. “Are you all right?” I asked Clarissa.

  “Yeah.”

  I began to think better of what I’d just done. “Maybe you wanted to talk to her? Maybe I should have let you stay on the phone?”

  Clarissa shrugged. “Not really.”

  Great. Just great. It looked like now we were going to start being bothered by Carrie Sue. We had enough on our plate. I didn’t need her antagonizing us.

  Clarissa had turned around and headed to her room. I put the phone down, walked out on the deck, and motioned to Adam to come inside.

  He came in the kitchen mopping the sweat from his forehead. “What’s up?”

  “Carrie Sue just called and was talking to Clarissa.”

  I went on to explain the short conversation to him.

  “Damn,” he said, taking the pitcher of sweet tea from the fridge. “We didn’t need this.”

  “You’ve got that right. Maybe I shouldn’t have interfered….”

  “No, you did the right thing. Carrie Sue shouldn’t have called. She knows full well that if she wants any contact with Clarissa, she has to get an attorney and we’ll go back to court.”

  “Do you really think she wants her back?” I was beginning to get a feel for what life with Carrie Sue was like, and even with the upsets, I knew the child was where she belonged—with us.

  “I seriously doubt it. It’s just a ploy on Carrie Sue’s part. I’ll talk to Clarissa about it—try and find out how she really feels. And then we’ll just wait and see what happens.”

  I was updating order accounts when I heard the wind chimes on the door. Turning around, I saw Polly walk in. Miss Polly owned the Curl Up and Dye, the hair salon on the island.

  “Hey, Miss Monica. I dropped by to pick up that alpaca yarn you ordered for me. Is it in yet?”

  “Yup, it came in the other day,” I said, walking to the shelf where we kept special orders.

  “So how’s it going with Adam’s daughter?” she asked as I rang up the sale.

  “I’m not sure. It’s a tough situation, and I have a lot to learn about motherhood.”

  Polly smiled. “Honey, my kids have been grown and gone for years, and I’m still learnin’.”

  “That’s encouraging,” I told her, passing the bag of yarn across the counter. “I feel like I’ve been out of the loop with island stuff. Anything exciting been going on?”

  Polly placed an index finger to her lips while thinking. “Well, I probably shouldn’t say anything, but…did you hear a big developer might be coming to the island?”

  I immediately thought of Grace and her new friend. “No. What’s this all about?”

  “I’m not really sure, but gossip has it somebody has delusions of grandeur. Wanting to turn our little town into a high-priced resort. Fancy-schmancy shops—that sort of thing. We’re a small fishing village, for goodness sake. If you ask me, it’s all about greed. Plain and simple.”

  I had to agree with Polly. Cedar Key had its share of restaurants and small shops, but it could never be considered upscale. And that’s how the residents liked it. Galleries filled with work by local artists. The Keyhole downstairs from the Arts Center, offering unique pieces of mosaic, ceramic and wood sculptures—much of it with the flavor of the island.

  “Yeah, I see what you’re saying,” I told her. “Any talk about what in particular they have in mind?”

  “Somebody mentioned something about a glitzy hotel, maybe a high-priced jewelry store, and oh, there’s been talk about one of those posh coffee shops.”

  That caught my attention. Posh coffee shop? We had a coffee shop—Grace’s place. No, it wasn’t a Starbucks, but to the locals it was home. A place they went to socialize and relax in the comfy, deep-cushioned chairs Grace provided.

  “I can’t see that we need another place of lodging. We have the Island Hotel and a bunch of other smaller motels and vacation homes. And a coffee shop? Everybody patronizes Gracie’s place.” Even though the wooden sign that hung above her door said COFFEE, TEA & THEE, her shop was affectionately known as Gracie’s Place.

  Polly shook her head. “I know, I know. Well, maybe none of it will happen. Maybe it’s just rumors floating around. I need to get going. I have a shampoo and set at eleven. You take care and I’ll see ya soon.”

  I watched Polly walk out the door as an uneasy feeling settled on me. What if this time the rumors turned out to be fact? Where would that leave Grace? And could it be possible that this Tony was behind all of it?

  At 2:00 Aunt Dora showed up to relieve me, and I decided to head over to the coffee shop before going home.

  I walked in to see a few locals sitting inside, and a few others were sitting out back at picnic benches overlooking the water. A line of about eight people stood in front of the counter waiting for Grace to complete their orders. During the week her clientele consisted of mostly locals, but on the weekends she was always busy with tourists.

  As I waited my turn, I looked around the shop. She had a perfect location right on the corner of Dock Street. Out the front door, one looked out to a view of the Gulf with the Big Dock in the foreground. Side windows also showed the Gulf with boats going in and out of the channel. The back windows looked out onto an area where Grace had arranged a few picnic tables that afforded another water view with a small bridge to the left. With the cushy chairs, a few bookcases filled with paperbacks, decks of playing cards and checker boards on some tables, the shop oozed an ambience of cozy. Mingling with the strong aroma of coffee was the pungent smell of sage and cedar that Grace usually had burning in a few incense holders. A large dream catcher dangled from the ceiling, and the soft strains of some New Age melody poured from the CD player. Just being there gave people a sense of good energy.

  “Hey, what’s up?” I heard Grace say as the customer in front of me left.

  “Just finished at the yarn shop and I’m craving a latte.”

  “Coming right up,” she said, reaching for my personal mug that had cabbage roses painted on the front. Most of the locals had their own cups for coffee, and we left them at the shop.

  “Can you take a break?” I asked, indicating one of the empty tables outside.

  “Sure. I can watch the front door from there.”

  She grabbed her bottle of water and followed me out.

  “So how’s Little Orphan Annie doing?” she asked.

  I laughed. “So-so. Adam’s with her. Oh, Carrie Sue called this morning,” I told her and went on to explain the phone conversation.

  “Hmm, you think she wants Clarissa back?”

  I shrugged befor
e taking a sip of coffee.

  “Have no idea. But like Adam said, she has to get an attorney if that’s what she wants, and they’ll be back in court again.”

  “How would you feel about that? If she went back to live with Carrie Sue?”

  Concerned was the first thought that came to my mind. “I don’t know. Hey, how’s it going with Tony? Is he a candidate for a chef on the Food Channel?”

  Grace laughed. “I’d say he’s close. He cooked us a delicious Italian dinner the other night. Antipasto, followed by delicious tortellini and a wonderful red wine. He even had salad and garlic bread to go with it.”

  “Martha Stewart, move aside,” I said. “So what’s his job entail? Did he tell you what he’s developing?”

  “Not really. We didn’t talk much about work. He mentioned some project he’s involved in with some other developers. In Gainesville, I think. But I didn’t get the details.”

  Was he purposely keeping the information from Grace? Was I overreacting in thinking that he had an ulterior motive in dating her?

  “Oops! Gotta go,” she said, jumping up. “Customers calling.”

  I turned around to see two couples waiting at the counter. After finishing my coffee, I walked inside, rinsed out my cup, placed it back on the hook, and waved good-bye as Grace tended to another group of tourists.

  11

  I returned home to find Adam and Clarissa at the kitchen table playing a game of Monopoly.

  “Hey, honey,” he said, getting up to give me a hug and kiss. “This daughter of mine is almost making me bankrupt. Wanna help me out here?”

  I hadn’t seen a Monopoly game since I was ten and was pretty sure we didn’t own one.

  “Where’d that come from?”

  “My mother dropped by earlier. She had picked it up for Clarissa. Which reminds me, she wanted to know if Clarissa could spend the night with her. I think she’s secretly looking forward to playing this game.”

  Somehow I couldn’t picture Opal deep in concentration about whether she should purchase Park Place or a railroad.

  “Sure, if you think she can go. Your mother will probably enjoy that.” Not to mention that I’d delight in having my home and my husband back for a night.

  “Then it’s a done deal,” he said. “Clarissa, why don’t you go call your grandmother. Tell her I’ll drop you off in about an hour, if that’s good with her.”

  She walked into the great room and I could hear the beeps as she dialed.

  “Honey, when I ask you something to do with Clarissa, don’t put the ball back in my court.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “When I asked you about her going to my mother’s, I was looking for you to make the decision. I mean, I knew you’d say yes—but you said, if you think she can go. I’m not the only one making decisions in this family concerning Clarissa. She has to feel that we’re united.”

  I recalled Dora saying something about making sure that Adam and I were on the same page. Chalk up another lesson in Mothering 101 for me.

  “Yeah,” I said, nodding. “I see what you’re saying. I’m just not used to making decisions for another person.”

  I felt his arms go around me.

  “You will. Hey, would you like to go out for dinner tonight?”

  “Actually, I’d rather stay right here with you.”

  “Sounds good to me. How about I do some steaks on the grill?”

  “Perfect,” I told him as Clarissa walked back into the kitchen.

  “Grandma said an hour is good. She’s making me macaroni and cheese for supper and it’ll be ready when I get there.”

  Macaroni and cheese? In the ten days Clarissa had been with us, I never thought to make that and couldn’t resist asking, “Do you like that meal?”

  “It’s my favorite,” she stated.

  Why the heck didn’t she bother to tell me that? And how did Opal seem to know this?

  “Go pack your overnight bag,” Adam told her. “Then we’ll go.”

  I had just finished putting together a bowl of scalloped potatoes to go with the steaks when Clarissa walked back into the kitchen. She had a pink tote bag with Barbie on the front in one hand and the ever-present Raggedy Ann doll in the other.

  She hitched herself up onto the stool and watched as I covered the casserole bowl with tin foil.

  “How did Opal know macaroni and cheese was your favorite?” I blurted out.

  Without hesitation, Clarissa replied, “She asked me.”

  “Oh,” was all I could think of to say.

  Adam walked into the kitchen jangling car keys. “All set?” he asked her.

  Jumping down from the stool, Clarissa nodded.

  “Be right back,” he told me.

  Clarissa turned around and paused. “Bye,” she said.

  “Have fun,” I told her. “Have a good time.”

  I pushed the button on the stove to preheat the oven. Then I set about putting together a salad. All the while I was thinking about what Clarissa had said. Hell, I didn’t even know if the girl had a favorite color or holiday or anything. When it came right down to it, I knew very little about Clarissa Jo Brooks.

  Sitting in the lounge beside me, Adam reached for my hand.

  “That was nice,” he said. “I enjoyed that dinner.”

  “It was nice,” I told him. But I was referring to more than the food. I had to admit it was very nice to dine with my husband alone. Just the two of us.

  “More wine?” he said, getting up to get the bottle of Cabernet.

  I nodded as I held out my glass for him to refill.

  It was a gorgeous spring evening and the scent of lantana was heavy in the air. I glanced across the street from the deck. Boats were making their way back to the city marina before night fell. The water created ripples that seemed to go on forever.

  I let out a deep sigh. “I love living here. I don’t think there’s a place on earth I’d rather be.”

  “It is pretty magical, isn’t it? I’ve always thought so, even when I was a child. Maybe that’s why I’m so happy that my own daughter will get to grow up here.”

  I sat up straighter in the lounge. “What do you think will happen, though, Adam? Do you think Carrie Sue will pursue the issue about custody?”

  He took a sip of wine before answering. “Well, we haven’t heard from her again. But knowing her, nothing would surprise me. The court rescinded her custody, so I think the best she could hope for would be visitation rights.”

  “What exactly did Clarissa say to you when you spoke to her about the phone call?”

  “Not much, as usual. I couldn’t get her to tell me if she wanted to go back to Carrie Sue or stay here. But I got the feeling she’d prefer to stay here.”

  “Adam, I feel really stupid saying this, but…I really think I’m one of those women like my grandmother. I just don’t think I’m cut out to be a mother. I can’t seem to get anything right. God, I didn’t even know the kid liked macaroni and cheese.”

  He threw his head back, laughing. Unable to see any humor, I felt annoyed.

  “Monica, you really are being too hard on yourself. It just takes time to know what she likes and doesn’t like.”

  “Yeah, but I don’t even know the right questions to ask.” Wanting to change the subject, I said, “Hey, have you heard any rumors about new development possibly going on here?”

  Adam nodded. “I was at the post office the other day and a few of the guys were talking about it.”

  “What’d they say? Do you think there’s any truth to it?”

  “I don’t know. They said something about a developer wanting to make some major changes in the downtown area. But this has happened before and it never materialized.”

  When I remained quiet, Adam questioned, “Why?”

  I told him what Polly had told me, and then I shared with him about the new man Grace was dating.

  “So do you think this fellow has something to do with possible development on the i
sland?”

  “I don’t know. I’d hate to think he’s stringing Grace along, but she told me today that he hasn’t said much to her about his job.”

  “Well, I’m sure it’ll work itself out,” he said, pulling me to my feet. “We have the entire house to ourselves, and I think we need to take advantage of that.”

  I put my arms around his neck as his head bent toward me. His body was strong and firm against mine and I felt the crush of his lips. I let myself sink into the moment as desire stirred me.

  “Hmm, nice,” he said, nuzzling my neck.

  “Very nice,” I whispered.

  Taking my hand in his, he led me toward the French doors into the house.

  “I think we need to have one of those nights of making mad, passionate love like we used to.”

  “You’re a very wise man,” I said, following him into the bedroom.

  12

  I looked up from my knitting and glanced around the great room. It crossed my mind that the scene could have come straight out of Leave It to Beaver.

  Adam sat in his chair, feet propped up on the ottoman, reading an article in Newsweek. Clarissa was stretched out on the carpet, sketchbook in front of her, bringing a fairly accurate picture of a seascape to life with colored pencils. And I sat turning cobalt blue yarn into a sweater for Adam. The only thing missing was the pooch curled up in front of the fireplace.

  As if she was reading my mind, Clarissa put down her pencils, swiveled around to face Adam and me, and said, “Could I have a puppy?”

  “A what?” I said, shooting my glance to Adam to see his reaction.

  In the almost two months that Clarissa had been with us, smiles seldom crossed her face. Not only was a smile forming, but she giggled.

  “A puppy,” she repeated.

  Right. Something else in my life that was needy requiring my attention. Things had been going along fairly well—we’d had no further word from Carrie Sue, meal choices had gotten a bit easier, and while I won’t say that Clarissa was the happiest child I’d ever met, I felt we had settled into a routine. And now she wanted to throw a wrench into it with a puppy?