“Oh, he’s swell. You coming back to stay?”
“I don’t know, Marie.”
She flushed and looked away from him. “I’m sorry about everything.”
“Thanks.”
“The baked red-snapper throats is special tonight, Mr. Rayder.”
“Okay. With mashed, string beans, and coffee with.”
She scribbled the order, smiled at him, and hurried off, her heels brisk on the tile. She called the order through to the kitchen, and another girl came from serving a party at one of the tables to stand beside her. Paul wondered if it was Linda Morrisey. She was a small girl, very slim-waisted, but sturdy, her yellow uniform snug against firm hips and taut across her breasts. Her hair was heavy, thick, alive-looking. It was light brown and nearly straight, curled in at the ends, and the sun had streaked it, bleached it to blonde on top of her head. He didn’t get a good look at her face. He saw Marie lean close to her and murmur something. The girl turned quickly and looked directly at him. She had a strong face. Handsome rather than pretty, with bold bone structure, a firm wide mouth, the eyes set wide and grave and gray. He saw her realize that her quick stare might look rude, and he saw her cheeks color a bit as she turned away.
When Marie brought his order, he said, “Is that Mrs. Morrisey, that other girl waiting on table?”
“Yes, it is. She wants to meet you, after. I told her who you are.”
“Her mother’s here, too?”
“She’s in the kitchen. With Mike. He’s the chef. The four of us can handle it now, but there’ll have to be eight anyway when the season gets started. You said you wanted coffee now?”
“Please.”
The food was attractive, well cooked. Some of the customers left, and more arrived. The girls were busy for a time. Paul had more coffee. At last there was only one other table occupied, and Marie and Linda came toward his booth.
“Linda, I want you should meet Mr. Rayder. This is Mrs. Morrisey.”
He took her small firm hand. Her smile was good, her voice surprisingly low-pitched. “Will you sit down?” he asked.
She slid into the other side of the booth, and Marie said, “You want I should bring you some coffee, Linda?”
“Please,” she said. Marie hurried away.
“I think you have a fine place here, Mrs. Morrisey.”
“Thank you. My husband and I — we selected the location carefully. One of the reasons for placing it here was the place you built, Mr. Rayder. Even though those cabañas are equipped for housekeeping, we knew we would get steady trade from your customers during the season. So it was distressing to us when the man who bought it closed it. But new courts have gone up now, and someone else is going to put in some waterfront apartments on the other side of town.”
“I guess you’re not any more distressed than I am. When you build something and work as hard as we did and gamble everything on it, it hurts to see it fold.”
She stirred the coffee Marie had brought her. “Did you design the little house we rented, Mr. Rayder?”
“Most of it. My wife added a few touches.”
“It’s a perfect house. After we started to live in it, we would have tried to buy it if it hadn’t been waterfront land and sort of out of our reach. We decided to build one exactly like it. It’s a good little house to — to be in love in. But I guess I don’t ever want to look at it again.”
“I’m sorry about that. It’s something special that you could even come back to Cove’s End.”
“I wasn’t trying to... well, to prove anything. What happened is something I’ll have to live with wherever I go. You see, Eddie and I, we decided that if we were ever going to get ahead, we’d have to do it on our own, and take the plunge while we were young enough to work like dogs. We managed to get started, and when it... happened to Eddie, it didn’t seem right for me to give it up. And, like I said, I’d have to live with it anyway, so I just came back. I’m glad I did.”
“It’s funny, you know,” he said, “how Valerie and I had the same kind of idea. Working for ourselves instead of for other people. We lived on nothing until we had enough to make the break. But then... well, she sold it. Even if I’d known, I couldn’t have stopped it in time.”
“It surprised people here.”
“I know.”
He began to sense that she was slightly nervous. He had the feeling that she was fencing, that she had some subject she wanted to bring up but didn’t know exactly how to go about it. The silence grew awkward.
He said, to fill the gap, “Does your mother like it here?”
Her smile was crooked. “She detests it. She’s dying to see her friends in Ohio, but she won’t leave her poor helpless little daughter alone down here in this tropical wasteland. I’m trying to get her to go.” She glanced toward the door to the kitchen and called, “Mother! Would you come here, please?”
Paul got up. An austerely handsome woman came toward them. Her gray hair was cropped short and curled. She was taller than her daughter, and her expression was one of chronic mild suspicion. “Marie tells me you are Mr. Rayder. Your wife — or I should say your ex-wife — sold your place of business to some remarkably dreadful people, sir.”
“Mother! You know he had nothing to do with that.”
“It is merely an observation, dear. I am not being rude.”
“I was just telling your daughter what a nice place this is.”
“Sixteen years of schooling, and she winds up selling fried fish at the end of nowhere. Mr. Rayder, she is as stubborn as any goat.”
“Mother, please!”
“She forgets most of the social graces, Mr. Rayder. I am Mrs. Robert McGalvie. I don’t believe she mentioned that. Officially, I am in charge of salads and pastries. And that reminds me that there is dressing to be prepared. With just a trace of garlic. Nice to meet you, Mr. Rayder.” She stalked off, her head high.
“In other words,” Linda said softly, “she doesn’t care for it here. Actually, she works much too hard, but there’s nothing I can do about it.”
“Sort of awe-inspiring,” Paul said.
“Do you have a car here?” Linda asked.
“Why, yes. Is there something I—?”
“I know how strange this sounds,” she said, her eyes uneasy, “but would you please take me for a ride? There’s something I haven’t told anyone. I had no idea of telling you until after we’d been talking a while. Do you mind?”
“Of course not.”
“I don’t want to talk here. I’ll tell Mother.” She walked across the floor and pushed the kitchen door open and went through. He found that he liked watching her walk. She had a quick free stride, and the alive hair bounced at the nape of her neck as she walked.
Marie brought the check, and he paid and left a tip for her. He was standing by the door as Linda came back from the kitchen to say, “I won’t be back before closing time, Marie. Is that all right?”
Marie gave Paul a quick, speculative look and said, “Oh, sure.”
They went out into the soft warmth of the October night. “You’re sure you don’t mind, Mr. Rayder?”
“Of course not. I’m Paul.”
“All right, Paul. And I’m Linda. Please stop over there at Palmetto Court. Mother and I stay there. I want to get out of this darn uniform. And get something for my hair. Please leave the top down.”
He turned at the court, and she hurried in. She was back in five minutes in a sun-back linen dress that was pale in the night. He shut the car door and went around and got behind the wheel.
“Any special place?”
“Anywhere. The closer I get to saying all this, the sillier it sounds.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
He headed northeast. She sat far over on her side of the seat, her hands folded on the purse, silent and thoughtful. He guessed she was planning what she would say. Watching the road, he suddenly realized that he was nearing a turnoff, a sand-and-shell road that led down to an abandoned fishing camp. He slowed the car and saw from the condition of the turnoff that it was still not in use. He realized then that there was a certain masochism in selecting this particular spot. He had turned down this same road many times with Valerie beside him. Linda made no comment as the car lurched over the lumpy road.