The Way Home by Katherine Spencer Page A

up and changed his T-shirt, she made a list of items they needed at the hardware store and a few at the supermarket. Then she drew a map of Cape Light’s Main Street on the back. She handed it to him along with the car keys and a fifty-dollar bill. “If you get lost or can’t find something, just call me.”
    â€œOkay, see you later.”
    Claire watched out the window as he started up the Jeep and turned onto the main road. She suddenly had second thoughts about letting him take her vehicle. Just nerves, she told herself. She hoped he was a careful driver. She hadn’t even stopped to ask him about that. But what would his answer have been? Of course he would say he was a good driver.
    Well, this was bound to happen sooner or later. Running errands was part of his job. Claire reminded herself that so far, at least, he had done nothing to suggest he wouldn’t be trustworthy and responsible.
    * * *
    A VERY worked alone at the café on Monday. Her staff did not arrive until four, and they wouldn’t open for dinner until five. She busied herself with small jobs, checking how much food they had used up over the weekend and tallying up the receipts.
    The guest checks from the grand opening weekend added up to a number that was anything but grand. Avery knew she had to do better if she was going to stay in business. She put the accounts aside, poured herself a big glass of iced water, and went outside to get some fresh air.
    She sat at an umbrella table and watched the ocean awhile. The beachfront was quiet today, almost deserted compared to the weekend. Not that the beach crowds had helped her much. She really had to figure out a way to take advantage of that.
    She leafed through a pile of local newspapers and circulars, trying to see where she could place more advertisements. Maybe people were just reluctant to try a new place that hadn’t been reviewed. She had to work on bringing reviewers in, too.
    What’s Happening in Cape Light?
seemed like a good place to start. It was a large-format tabloid. A scenic shot of Cape Light Harbor was featured on its glossy magazine-type cover. The magazine was published every week and was mainly advertisements—ads for everything from B&Bs to renting Jet Skis—with a few articles about local attractions and lists of things to do in the area.
    Avery cut out a few ads from other restaurants that caught her eye. She was so intent on cutting neatly, she didn’t notice Mike walk up to the table until he was peering over her shoulder.
    â€œLooking for a place to eat out? There’s a cute café that just opened on Ferry Street.”
    She turned and forced a smile. It would have been funny if the café had done better business over the weekend. As it was, his gentle joke felt like a jibe.
    â€œHi, Mike. What’s up?”
    â€œNothing much. How are you? Recovered from the weekend?”
    She glanced at him, then back at the magazine. “I was surprisingly tired, considering how little business we did.”
    I might as well say it before he does,
she reasoned.
    He looked at her a long moment. She hoped he wouldn’t gloat. “It’s the stress. No question,” he said finally.
    He sat down at the table without waiting for an invitation. He looked very attractive today, in a white polo shirt and sunglasses. A light breeze ruffled his dark hair. He looked tan and fit, without a care in the world. She wondered what he did for a living when he wasn’t running the Tuna. Maybe he was one of those restaurant owners who did so well during the summer, they took the fall and winter off and wandered around the Caribbean or Hawaii.
    She decided not to ask him. If that was true, it would be too depressing to think about right now.
    â€œHey, I know your place was slow this weekend. But don’t panic.” His quiet tone drew her attention.
    She put down her scissors and looked up at him. “Slow is not the word.