Sweet Caroline(88)

In the end, I knew selling the Café was right. I knew working for SRG was right. I knew marrying Mitch was wrong. Not wrong, really, but wrong timing.

The night I gave him his ring back, he drove me home in com-plete silence. Oh, how I missed Matilda at that moment. As he drove away, I sank down to the parking lot and cried until there was a puddle of tears in the sand.

Hazel, I miss him something fierce. This is it for us. We’re over. Not like the other times when he got busy with his career and we simply drifted apart.

This time when he dropped me off and said good-bye, I heard the clink of a door.

I’m sad and weepy, but I know I’ll regret it the rest of my life if I don’t try Barcelona.

Good night.

“Letter for you, Caroline.” Mercy Bea drops the Café mail on the counter.

“Letter?”

“Looks like Jones’s handwriting. Want me to put the rest in the office?”

Letter? “Yes, office, thanks.”

On the back is a note from Kirk. Jones wanted this mailed to you after the ninety days. Sorry, just now found it.

I tear open the letter and read.

Dear Caroline,

By the time you read this letter, I hope you’ve stopped cursing me. I suppose inheriting the Café came as a shock. Please forgive me if the deed unduly burdened you. That was never my intent.

On the other hand, if you’re reading this, I’ve crossed over to the Golden Shore and am happy to be away from worldly troubles.

My prayer is for the Café to bless you. She’s been around a long time, and as I write this letter, I’m filled with sentiment.

Why the ninety days? So you’d have time to think before acting.

I didn’t know what to do with the Frogmore. No kin to leave her to, or close friends.

Then, you came to mind and I knew you were the right one.

Perhaps you’re wondering why not Andy, or Mercy Bea? Other than the satisfaction I felt whenever I thought of you, I don’t know. Andy is, in many ways, the soul of the Café.

I just knew you’d do the right thing by all of us.

The other reason is your grandma Sweeney. I loved her. She broke my heart when she married my friend, your granddad. But, over time I forgave her, but never humbled up to speak to her about it. I reckon this is all out of the blue for you, Caroline, but your Nana was the love of my life. After she died, your granddad came to me and said, “Gracie told me, ‘Go see Jones. Don’t let the bad blood linger.’”

Giving you the Cafe is my way of saying “All is well, Gracie.”

I yank a napkin from the dispenser and blow my nose.

Best of everything to you, sweet Caroline. I hope you have a good life, full of love, family and well, a basket of my ole Bubba’s Buttery Biscuits and Frogmore Stew. My chili weren’t bad neither.

Yours truly.

Jones Q. McDermott

P.S. Never did know what the Q stood for. Best find my mother in heaven and ask her.





DAILY SPECIAL


Thanksgiving Day—Closed

Friday, November 23

Turkey and Gravy

Stuffing, Mashed Taters

Cranberry Sauce, Sweet Potato Soufflé

Yeast Rolls

Pumpkin, Pecan, Apple, or Cherry Pie

Tea, Soda, Coffee

$9.99


36

The crisp, bright Sunday after Thanksgiving, Mercy Bea and I string Christmas lights along the Café’s front porch while Andy Williams sings from the boom box. “It’s the most wonderful time of the year.”

“Hmm, cinnamon.” Mercy Bea draws in a large portion of air, turn-ing her nose toward downtown.

“Makes me hungry and I just ate.” I hold up the next string of lights. “Pay attention, Mercy Bea; we still have the inside to decorate.”

She taps a small hook into the porch board with her hammer, then hangs the next section of lights. “What’s your favorite Christmas memory, Caroline?”

I shrug. “Mama had a thing about man-made traditions.”

“Like how? Hand me another hook, Caroline, please.”

“Like she hated them. Daddy did his best to give us a nice Christmas, but without her participation, it was hard. He’d put up a tree Christmas Eve, buy us presents most years, but the tree went down two days later.”

Mercy Bea shakes her head with an mm-mm-mm, tapping in the hook and looping the light cord over it. “Wonder what got into your mama.”

“I don’t know, but it’s time for new memories and new traditions, starting with this Christmas. I have a feeling it’s going to be my best one yet.” A bolt of electric excitement zaps my middle as I think of the crews’ surprise.

She glances down at me, her face pinched. “This Christmas? The best? Girl, after letting that hunk Mitch get away—which, by the way, I still can’t believe. Today’s the first day I’ve seen you smile without a frown behind your eyes.”

“Yeah, well, life isn’t always what we want it to be.” Getting over Mitch is taking more sleepless nights than I imagined, but today during church, I decided: God, I trust you. Peace came, and so far it’s winning the war on worry.

“What’s so special about this Christmas?” Mercy Bea asks, dragging the box of Christmas decorations down to the next section of porch.