Find Wonder in All Things - By Karen M. Cox Page 0,5
was bad news, but Virginia wouldn’t see it.” He looked saddened — or embarrassed maybe; James couldn’t tell. “I didn’t need that,” Stuart went on.
“No one needs that.”
“Damn straight.”
Stuart flipped up and down the dial for another radio station that had a decent signal in the mountains. Finally, he gave up and punched it off altogether. “Hope you brought your own music. There’s no reception down here.”
“I brought a few cassettes.”
“Hey, it’s the ’90s, and CDs are the way of the future, man.” Stuart grinned at him.
“Yeah, I know, but I’m saving up for a car.”
“That’s great. Gotta have wheels, I guess. When you’re ready to buy, let my dad know. He might be able to get you a deal. He’s done ads for a bunch of the dealerships around Cincinnati.”
“I will. Thanks.” James took another swig of soda. “It feels weird to be coming back here.”
“Yeah, a little weird. I’d like to see Virginia again, though — catch up and whatever. Do you think she’ll be home from college for the summer?”
“How should I know?” James shrugged and took another drink.
“Well . . . ” Stuart’s voice drifted off for a few seconds and then he changed the subject. “It was killer that her dad had that busboy gig open up at the restaurant. You’ll get to stay down here all summer.”
“Yeah, unlucky for the other guy, but great for me. I couldn’t find anything better around home this year. It was great of your dad to put in a good word for me.”
“What happened to the other guy?”
“Had a motorcycle accident — broke his leg in two places.”
“That sucks. If I didn’t have to go to Europe with the parental units, I could have taken the job myself.”
“I need the money more than you, buddy. And I needed to get out of that house.”
Stuart cringed in sympathy. “Is it bad?”
“Oh, yeah, it’s bad. Even worse since my sister got married last summer. They hardly speak to each other, but when they do”— he shook his head — “fighting, silent treatment, fighting, silent treatment, and they’re mad at me the whole time I’m home. I’ll do anything to get out of that hellhole.”
“Even wash dishes and clear tables?”
“Even that.” James grinned.
* * *
James walked into the marina restaurant and plunked his duffle on the floor beside him. He wanted to talk to Mr. Elliot before going to the Pendleton’s houseboat, which would be his home for the next two and a half months.
He looked around the restaurant; it hadn’t changed one iota since he was last there. The same Formica-topped tables, their fake, wood grain chipped off in places, were scattered about the dining room. Arranged around the tables were the same vinyl-upholstered chairs his legs used to stick to on hot summer nights. He smiled when he saw the old, revolving, pie case still standing next to the cash register, proudly displaying every type of soggy-crusted cream pie known to man. The air was filled with the familiar smells of fried fish and Thousand Island dressing. Turning toward the wall of windows that overlooked the lake, he saw a leggy redhead leaning over a table and scouring away with her dishrag. The circular motion of her arm initiated a nice circular motion of her posterior. He noticed this in a purely aesthetic way, of course. He was all set to call out, ‘Hey Virginia!’ when she turned around, and he stopped short. It wasn’t Virginia.
The dark blue eyes speared him from across the room, and his breath caught. It couldn’t be, just couldn’t be — could it?
“Laurel?”
She stopped, dropped her arms to her side and stared. Suddenly, her face bloomed into a riotous mix of recognition and joy. “James?” she breathed. “How are you?” She held out her arms and walked toward him, wrapping him in a warm, but not too intimate, embrace — the way one should embrace a friend from long ago. He circled her arms with his own.
“Wow, I almost didn’t recognize you! I thought you were Virginia at first.”
She laughed as she stepped back to get a good look at him. “I was thirteen years old the last time you were here.”
A million thoughts raced through his head: smooth, sweet-talking things like, You sure grew up right, and numbskull things like, When did you grow legs up to your neck? He settled for another, “Wow!” and a particularly lame, “You’ve changed a lot in five years.”