The Owl & Moon Cafe: A Novel (No Series) (9 page)

No answer.

“She has a highly respected doctor,” Mariah said, though she could not imagine her mother ever having that insensitive oaf as a friend. “If a person has to get sick, California’s a good place to do it. There are lots of great hospitals and different kinds of treatments. I know it’s hard, but try to concentrate on the positive. Chances are—”

Lindsay turned to her, tears coursing down her cheeks. “This is just like what happened to Carl Sagan. He got the same thing and they did a bone marrow transplant from a close family member and he died anyway!”

Again with the Carl Sagan. Was this about not having a father? Mariah looked out the window as a couple holding hands made their way to the wharf. At the end of the wooden planks the seals were barking. The stresses of the day came down on Mariah like a shroud. She wanted to scream, she wanted someone to reassure her, but all she said was, “Why don’t you sit here in the car while I get our order, I mean, our dinner?”

Lindsay nodded.

“I’ll leave the radio on. Lock the door after me. No matter what Gammy says about Monterey being the safest place to live, there are still plenty of weirdos in the world.”

The next morning, Mariah let Lindsay walk to school from the café. Gammy had packed her lunch, probably with a butter and sugar sandwich and a chocolate soda. She watched until Lindsay reached the corner, passing early-morning dog walkers and the power-walking teams in their neon-colored exercise clothes. Inside, she began folding silverware bundles into napkins, getting ready for the first customers of the day. “How’s Mom?” she asked Gammy. “Did she sleep?”

Gammy shook her head no. “Alice spent most of the night crying. I sat up with her as long as I could, but I’m an old woman, Mariah. I worked ten hours yesterday, and over the past couple of days I have worried enough for six months. My legs were throbbing like wisdom teeth. I had to turn in. I told her not to come down today, that you and I could handle things. So I guess that means we’ll have to.”

She smiled her practical smile that tried its hardest to hide her disappointments, and Mariah vowed to move through this day at warp speed. “Let me give you a hug, Gammy. This feels so hard for me that I have to wonder how you’re holding up. You’re her mother. It must be a hundred times worse for you.”

Her grandmother pulled away and began wiping the already clean counter. “Well, Mariah, what can you do? Deal with whatever life sends your way and leave the rest up to our Creator. All I can say is hold on to your hat, dearie, because I’ve got a hunch it’s going to get a lot worse before it gets easier.”

“What’s going on here?” Allegra said from the stairwell. “It’s past time to open. While you two are just standing there yakking we’re losing money. Where in hell is Simon? Unlock the door and let’s get to work.”

All morning Mariah kept a close eye on her mother. Allegra zipped around the café as if this were any other day of the week. When Kiki Cooper came in for more cookies—it was mah-jongg day—Allegra talked to her for at least five minutes while Kiki related the latest news on her divorce. Mr. Cooper, the CEO of a software company who suddenly decided he wanted to marry a girl young enough to be his daughter, wouldn’t know what hit him once Kiki was finished. Allegra had suggested Kiki contact N.O.W. for a good lawyer, and in no time Kiki’d gotten a really good haircut, and started taking Feldenkrais three times a week. Kiki’s divorce was as dramatic as a prime-time reality show; something new happened every day, as the balance of power was constantly shifting.

Allegra filled cups, rang up the till, smiled, and laughed. Only Mariah and Gammy knew her well enough to see through the brave façade to the worry beneath.

Around ten, when the Scotsman came in, Mariah heard her mother shout, “Babe, Sean Connery Junior, twelve o’clock!”

Embarrassed once again by her mother’s big mouth, Mariah walked up to the counter and turned the page on her order pad and stared at it, waiting. But even a sidelong glance at the thick black hair, ruddy complexion, and craggy face proved Allegra’s words right. He did resemble the actor. Mariah wondered if he played that angle, saying “Bond, James Bond” at parties because it got him laughs. Allegra’s humor was a safety valve, a way to defuse potentially disruptive situations, and to bring up taboos, but the only joke Mariah had ever found funny had been posted on the department bulletin board: “What do you get when you cross a mafioso with a sociologist? An offer you can’t understand.” She composed her workday smile. He was a customer, the same as anyone else, just easier to look at. “The usual, Mr. Appleton?” she asked, setting down a napkin bundled with silverware.

“Ah,” he said, “’tis Applecross. The usual, yes, that’d be lovely.”

“Sorry.”

Mr. Applecross was wearing a dark blue rain slicker today, even though it wasn’t raining yet. That indicated he was practical, planning for the future. Instead of yesterday’s dress pants, he had on nicely faded denim jeans. One could speculate about that from several vantage points, not the least of which was what lay underneath. Mariah felt his shoes said it all: well-worn hiking boots. You didn’t wear those unless you liked to walk long distances, no matter what the terrain. She set down his mug, the Earl Grey tea bag, and a metal pitcher of hot water. Gammy was all over her about making conversation with the customers. Make small talk, she said. Seem friendly even if you don’t feel that way. Our off-season customers are the core of our apple, Mariah. It wouldn’t kill you to ask how their day is or make a comment on the weather. Mariah thought of bagpipes, men in knee socks and kilts, and shortbread. Surely there was a subject to discuss in all that.

“So, Mr. Applecross. Is today casual Friday at your work?”

He smiled. “Please call me Fergus. Don’t work on Fridays, generally.”

“That sounds like a dream job.”

“Afraid not,” he said, “unless you enjoy fatally boring administrative tasks. Lots of time spent with paper, signing things, approving things, holding meetings. If I blethered on about it, you’d fall asleep on your feet.”

Mariah wouldn’t have minded a nap. She couldn’t think of what else to say, so she stood there, her hand going numb from holding the metal pitcher.

“Tell me something, what do you recommend? The chocolate biscuits or the berry scones?”

“The scones,” she answered.

“Such a quick decision. How did you arrive at it? Something off about the biscuits?”

“The biscuits are good. It’s just that I can tell you’re the kind of man who likes a routine.”

He faked a gasp. “Well, this is a terrible turn. You make me sound as if I’m a crotchety old stick who always buys the same brand of tooth powder.”

Mariah let out a nervous laugh. Gammy would not be happy if she drove this man from the counter. “Er—I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I just, well, correct me if I’m wrong, but you grew up in a monarchy, and a monarchy, with its sameness, has broad appeal. Using the powers of deduction from available evidence, scones seem the logical choice.” She could feel the sweat start to gather on her back, right between her shoulder blades. “God, I’m sorry. I’ll shut up now.”

He handed her back the unopened teabag. “Now I’m appalled. I must do something about this stodgy persona you’ve formed of me. Not only will I have the croissants, but I’ll challenge myself further with a different blend tea.”

“A little help?” a customer said at the register. “I’m in a hurry.”

Mariah set down the pitcher and quickly rang him up, feeling Fergus Applecross watching her every move. Unless she had all the academics surgically removed from her brain she would never have a boyfriend. But if she dumbed herself down, what would be left? A tabula rasa with no idea how to be a girly-girl, how to make men want her. All she really wanted was Allegra to get well. And to find a secure teaching job. Never mind. He’d duck out the second he’d finished, which was all for the best. Nobody could take away your fantasies.

He pulled the wicker basket full of tea bags toward himself and rubbed his hands together. Aside from Earl Grey, they had lemon pekoe, chamomile, and spice. Somehow it made her happy to see him reach for spice.

When Dr. Goodnough showed up, taking the seat at the counter that Fergus had only vacated an hour before, Mariah called her mother from the back of the café, where she had been happily chatting with customers as she replaced yesterday’s carnations with daisies in the tabletop vases. Mariah pointed to the doctor, and when Allegra saw who it was, the joy went out of her so fast it felt as if the air had been vacuumed out of the room. Mariah went to her, cupping her mother’s elbow. “Just say the word, Mom. I’ll get rid of him.”

Allegra looked grim. She set the handful of daisies down on the table. “Avoiding him isn’t going to do anyone any good. We have to talk sooner or later.”

“Why? There’re other doctors out there. Surely one of them has a better bedside manner than the Hulk.”

Allegra smiled. “He’s not a hulk, Mariah. He’s Alvin Goodnough. He’s here, and in my life now. He’s in all our lives, really. As Gammy would say, ‘Here comes the organ grinder. Better have a penny for the monkey.’ ”

Mariah wondered where all that had come from. Was Allegra so afraid that she would die that she was making amends? Her entire life her mother appeared to take nothing seriously, including boyfriends. “Give me a sign if he’s upsetting you, and I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” Gammy asked, walking by with two full plates. “Beat him to death with a soup ladle? Good Lord and little fishes, Alice. He took an oath to heal, not pester you to death. Go talk to him. Don’t you want to get better?”

“Thanks, Mama,” Allegra said. “No matter how shitty I feel I can always depend on you to throw a bucket of water on me so I can feel worse.”

“That’s my job, Alice. Now git. And go easy on the Anglo-Saxon. This is a family establishment.”

Were it anyone else, Allegra would have her hand on his arm, or plant a smooch on his cheek. Mariah wondered what their past together had been like. The doctor said they were “friends.” Had they done something that seemed “fun” at the time but in perspective was embarrassing, like group sex? No time for speculation. Booth two was filled with hungry lawyers, and she hurried off to take their order. What harm could come of Dr. Goodnough talking to her mother with a counter between them?