Rocky Point Reunion (5 page)

“That answers the first question, but why are you here?”

“Getting breakfast.”

The amusement in his eyes told her he knew he was
riling her up—and didn't care. For a moment she flashed back to high school and the times Zack had teased her. They'd ended up laughing in those days. Today, she was not amused.

“And you can't get food at home?” she asked sweetly, wishing he'd just get up and leave. Her senses seemed revved up. He looked fabulous. No wonder the waitresses were acting crazy. He'd had that effect on girls in high school. It seemed it carried forward with him.

“I'm not much of a cook. Didn't know you were, either,” he said.

“I'm not. But I have the Cabot sisters. Remember they used to have that tea shop over near the courthouse? They retired, were bored and jumped at the chance to work at the restaurant when I asked them. I'm lucky to have them.”

“They must be getting up in age,” he said, studying her.

“Not really, barely in their sixties. I'll have them as long as they want to stay.”

“So, this is a good choice for me to eat breakfast here.”

He made it sound reasonable. But she knew better. “Don't you have something else to do?”

“I'm working at Joe's. Helping the guys with some of the cars. He's behind because of the burned hands.” His brother had saved Gillian from getting burned when a fire was started at her house. He'd suffered burns on both hands, which had resulted in Zack's swift return home.

“We can make the meal to go,” she offered, willing him to accept.

He laughed. “Or I can eat it here and have several cups of coffee to stretch out my time with you.”

She frowned. “I'm not staying.”

“So why come out?”

She looked around. “I try to greet customers and keep an eye on things,” she said, hoping he wouldn't guess her real reason.

“From a customer's point of view, much appreciated.”

“Mmm.” She took a sip of coffee, wishing now she'd never stepped out of her office. “Morning, Marcie.”

She looked up at Walter Pogral, a longtime friend of her father's.

“Hey, Walt, how are you?”

“Doing good. Your dad get his car fixed?”

“I didn't know anything was wrong with it,” she said.

“Conked out on him in Portland last week. Called me to get him. Wondered how he got back to Portland to get the car when the shop there had it repaired. I haven't seen him all week.”

“I saw him yesterday. He didn't mention anything about it.”

“Guess he got another friend to take him back up to Portland.” He looked at Zack.

“Aren't you Patrick and Molly's boy, the younger one, right? Zachariah?”

Zack nodded and stood to offer his hand. “I am.”

“I thought you didn't live here, only Joe.”

“I'm back.”

“Ah, good. Sure have missed your dad all these years. Well, I'll be heading for my table. Tell your dad I asked after him, Marcie.”

“Sure will, Walt. Thanks for rescuing him.” When the elderly man moved across the restaurant to sit at a small table next to the window, she looked at Zack as he sat back down.

“Wonder why Dad didn't call me,” she murmured.

“Maybe he knew you'd be busy and Walt wasn't.”

“I didn't even know he went to Portland last week,” she mused.

“So? You two don't live in the same house anymore. Why would you?”

She looked at him. “It just seems strange, that's all. He never mentioned it.” It felt odd to know she was not in the loop with her father's life. He hadn't mentioned it. As Zack said, why would he, necessarily? Still, she wished she knew more.

Suzette arrived with a heaping platter of scrambled eggs, sausage, hash browns and biscuits. “Here you go. Let me know if you need anything,” she said with a flirtatious grin. She looked at Marcie. “Want anything?”

“No, thanks.” She rose, the innocent questions lingering in her mind. What did she
really
want?

 

Zack watched her walk to the swinging door leading to the kitchen. He wished she'd stayed long enough to visit while he ate. The food was delicious. It was good to be back home where breakfast was what he was used to. Too many continental breakfasts to count.

Three more people stopped by to chat a few minutes. But he didn't see Marcie again before he left.

He headed for Joe's shop down near the docks and the cars that waited. The vintage automobiles were easy to work on, and a change from the turbocharged machines he'd been dealing with. These were basic engines, even simplistic. Get the engines running, repair the body and interior and the cars were good for another fifty to one hundred years. And with Joe's reputation, he earned top dollar.

“Hi, Mr. Kincaid.”

Turning, Zack saw Sean O'Connell hurrying to catch up. The teen was dressed in the ubiquitous jeans and dark
T-shirt, running shoes on his feet. His hair was nicely trimmed, and he looked eager. For a moment Zack saw a touch of hero worship reflected in Sean's eyes.

“Call me Zack,” he said when the boy reached him. He began walking again.

“Thanks. I, uh, wondered if you thought about giving me pointers,” the boy said, falling into step with Zack.

“Yeah. I asked around about a course or large parking area. Might be a possibility in Monkesville. Which means we could get some actual driving practice in, not just theory.”

“Hey, that's cool.” His face lit up in excitement, but an instant later he frowned, as if showing enthusiasm wasn't cool. “Is it true you're moving back here? I mean, I heard you raced all over Europe. This place has to be pretty quiet after that. There's nothing to do.”

“It's home,” Zack said, remembering feeling the same way when he'd been eighteen. Maturity changed his view. That and the experiences he'd racked up.

They reached the large warehouse that housed Joe's restoration business. The breeze blew from the sea, a ruffle of whitecaps in the distance. Inside a radio played, and the sound of men talking could be heard.

“Want to come in and look around?” Zack asked the teen.

The way his face lit up, Sean didn't need to answer, but did respond with an enthusiastic yes. “Maybe you can give me some pointers here,” he said.

“Know your way around engines?”

“Not too much. I don't have a car and my mom won't let me mess with hers.”

“I had mechanics working on my cars, but I always knew what they were talking about. A man needs to know all about the machine he's driving,” Zack said.

As the morning wore on, Zack showed Sean the cars that were being restored, showed him one of the engines and even let the kid do some of the work under supervision. Sean was delighted.

Zack recalled the hours and hours he and his brother had spent during the long summer days when they were teens, first too young to drive, then older and able to drive the cars they worked on. Nothing more enjoyable than hanging over a dirty engine and getting it to purr.

He glanced at Sean, filthy up to his elbows, a smear of dirty oil on his cheek. But the concentration was admirable. The kid picked up things quickly.

“Your mother know where you are?” Zack asked. He shook his head in disbelief. Watching Jenny was changing him. He would never have asked that a month ago.

Sean looked up. “Not exactly. She knows I hang out around town. She's at work, she won't worry.”

“Give her a call. We'll take a break and grab a bit of lunch—it's after one.”

Sean hesitated a moment and then shook his head. “I can take off.”

“After lunch.” Zack pulled back and went to clean up, calling over his shoulder, “My treat.”

Naturally he headed back to Marcie's café. Maybe one part of his plan should include a daily meal at her restaurant. The food was good and he could always hope the owner would come out to check on the customers while he was there.

The café was about half-full when they entered. They were seated and their orders taken. Zack recommended the shrimp po-boy, but Sean opted for the mushroom burger with fries. They both had iced tea to drink. Zack looked around while they waited for their order to be filled.

He was surprised a minute later to see Marcie come
from the kitchen with a large plastic tub on her hip. She began clearing a table across the room. As if she could feel his stare she looked up. For a moment he wasn't sure if he saw a welcome in her gaze or not, but she looked away and continued her task.

When the waitress brought their orders, he asked if Marcie had a minute.

“She's working, but I'll ask.” It wasn't the woman from that morning. This one was older and definitely not in a flirtatious mood.

“You're taking the support-your-local-business bit too seriously,” Marcie said a minute later. She had the plastic tub on her hip, empty now.

“Good food. What's not to like?” he asked. After introducing Sean, he asked, “What are you doing?”

“I'm shorthanded. I had to fire one of my summer hires—too lazy. Until I find someone else, I'm filling in.”

Zack scrambled around for something else to say so she wouldn't leave. “I thought I'd offer to look at your dad's car if you like. I know he got it fixed in Portland, but I could give it a checkup, make sure it's in tip-top condition.”

She studied him thoughtfully. “Now, why would a big fancy race car driver want to do that?”

He shrugged. “Just to be neighborly and all. Seeing as how I'm moving back.”

She flicked a glance at Sean then looked back at Zack, a gleam in her eye. “Go for it.”

He didn't trust that gleam. Memories of days when she'd been up to something surfaced instantly. He remembered some of the ideas she'd had when they'd been kids. TP-ing the mayor's big elm tree before the elections one year, or their Senior Sneak day, and the hijinks they'd devised. “What does that mean?” he asked warily.

“Nothing. I'm sure he'd appreciate the offer.” She turned and headed to another table recently vacated. Glancing over her shoulder she shook her head.
Not!

Zack took another bite of his sandwich wondering if offering to help her father would gain him any brownie points with the woman. But he didn't trust that gleam.

“What was that about?” Sean asked.

“Her father's car died on him in Portland. It was repaired but I thought I'd check it out.”

Sean looked at Marcie. “Do you think she'd hire me to clear tables?”

“I have no idea. Do you have any experience?”

“My mom makes me clear my place every night.”

Zack hid a smile and nodded. “Go for it.”

The kid took a huge bite of his burger, then a deep breath as he approached Marcie. Zack watched as the two of them talked for a while.

Sean almost floated back to the table. “She said she'd give me a try,” he said, taking his seat again. “Man, that would be so cool if I could make some money this summer. It's tight at my house, you know?”

“I know how that can go,” Zack said, remembering how his father made him earn any money needed to work on the cars. It didn't hurt kids to learn the value of a dollar early.

“As soon as I finish lunch, I can start work. I need to call my mom. She'll worry if I'm not home when she gets home, but Marcie said the job goes till nine.”

“You can hang out around the garage some, too, if you'd like,” Zack said.

“You mean it? I could? That's awesome. The job here is from noon to nine, with an hour for a dinner break. I could come mornings. Man, that's so awesome.”

When they finished eating, Sean went to the back to
begin the new job. On impulse Zack headed for the insurance agency that Marcie's dad owned. It was on a cross street, not too far from the town square. The good thing about Rocky Point was nothing was very far from the town square.

He entered the one-story brick building and noticed the coolness after the afternoon sun. The lobby was empty except for a receptionist at the desk.

“May I help you?” A woman looked up from typing at the reception desk.

“Bill Winter available?”

“Zack Kincaid? Well, I never thought I'd see you back in Rocky Point. I'm Betty Thompson. It's been a while since anyone's seen you.”

“It has. Nice to see you again.”

She looked at him a moment, then reached for the phone.

“Someone here to see you,” she said. She listened and then replaced the receiver. “Go on in.”

Zack thought he heard her say
and good luck
under her breath, but he wasn't sure.

Opening the door, he was startled when he saw Marcie's father. The once-robust man looked decades older. His hair had receded and gone completely white. He was thinner than Zack remembered and had a sallow complexion.

Bill stood offering his hand, then let it drop when he realized it was Zack. “Get out of here. You have your nerve, coming back. Didn't you wreak enough havoc before? Stay away from my daughter!”

Conscious of Betty in the reception area, Zack closed the door behind him.

“I've apologized to Marcie and I apologize to you. What I did was wrong.” He wasn't going into details with Bill. If Marcie forgave him, it would be enough.

The man sat in his chair, picked up a paper and pretended to read it. “Shut the door on your way out,” he said.

“I heard you had car trouble in Portland. I came to offer to look at it for you.”

Bill snapped his head up at that. “Where'd you hear such a thing?”

“Walt told us this morning.”

“Us?”

“I was eating breakfast at Marcie's. She was sitting with me.” He knew saying it that way made it sound better than the reality. But he wanted the old man to cut him some slack.

“Marcie knows?”

That surprised Zack. “Was it a secret?”