Sweet Caroline(91)

“Close enough.” The ex-Marine unwraps his muffler—thick enough to keep an Eskimo warm—and drapes it over the coat rack.

“Coffee?” I ask, following him to the counter.

“Does a sheik have oil?” Dupree takes the stool next to Mitch. “Couldn’t sleep. Thinking about you leaving, Caroline. Good to see you, Mitch. I see you couldn’t kiss her into staying.”

Mitch shakes his head with a guarded gaze at me. “Gave it my best.”

“Well, what’re you going to do? Women are tough creatures to fig-ure out.”

Another tap resounds against the door as I pour Dupree’s coffee, half wishing Mitch would leave. Otherwise, I might just break. Jesus, a little help for Your friend, please.

Pastor Winnie and Luke are at the door this time. “More early birds?”

“Dupree called.”

“Caroline, thanks for the coffee.” Mitch rises from the counter stool. “Merry Christmas, fellas.”

“Leaving so soon, boy?” Winnie asks, taking the stool next to Dupree.

“I was hoping for a Christmas tune when I saw you sitting there.”

Mitch cuts a glance at me. “Another time. Don’t feel much like music today, Winnie.”

“I hear you, I hear you. Sad day for us all, losing Caroline.”

“A sad day for us all.”

Mitch leaves with a backward glance, allowing a flicker of good-bye in his eyes.

See you, Mitch.

By the time Andy arrives at four thirty, the four of us are good and caffeined up. I hide in the ladies’ for a good, solid, snot-running cry—just couldn’t hold it in any longer—then ordered a batch of eggs, bacon, and grits for the house. As dawn breaks over the lowcountry, I spend my last morning as owner of the Frogmore Café reminiscing with some of my best friends anywhere, while aching for the one who recently said good-bye.

At four p.m., Kirk arrives for the signing-away-of-the-Café. He’s jittery, never looking directly at me. His black suit is dot-ted with lint and dust.

“Are you okay?”

“Yep. Fine.” He starts arranging tables and chairs. “Let’s shove these two tables together. Sit here instead of the booth.”

“Ah, Kirk, we can’t give up the booth. We’ve done all our business there,” I tease. “I’m sort of sentimental about it.”

“It’s ridiculous for us to slide in together. We can’t get out without making everyone move.” Kirk’s briefcase thumps against the tabletop.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” A terrifying thought crossed my mind. “The Buzz Boys aren’t changing their minds are they, or lowering the price?”

“No, no. How about coffee and water on the table, eh?”

A few minutes later, the Christmas bells ring out. The Buzz Boys enter with their lawyer, Laurel the Amazon.

From the kitchen doorway, Andy, Mercy Bea, Russell, Luke and Paris hover, watching the big deal go down.

Dale is Buzz-Boy cheery. “Caroline, isn’t this fantastic? Such a win-win.” He looks over at the watching and waiting crew. “We’re going to take care of y’all.”

I gesture for Paris to bring the baskets of biscuits and jam.

Meanwhile, Laurel and Kirk exchange whispers and documents. Kirk’s expression is tense. He mutters and shakes his head.

Laurel whispers to him in a way that sounds like flies buzzing.

Sitting tall, I ignore the sadness of saying good-bye by picturing the surprised faces of the crew when they open their Christmas cards. Elle designed the cards after we brainstormed something unique and special for each person.

Then tonight, I’ve planned a Christmas shopping spree that will make Bill Gates look cheap.

“Are we ready to get started?” Laurel speaks through her plastic expression. One blue peel too many is my guess.

“Sure.” What is wrong with Kirk?

Taking command, Laurel distributes the papers we need to sign, giv-ing us instructions.

Then she hands me six checks. “Divided up as you requested.”

Smiling, I flip through to see if each amount is right—Andy and Mercy Bea receiving their third. Luke, Russell, and Paris their bonuses.

How fun to be Santa Claus.

I stack the checks and turn them facedown on the table. “Ready to sign.”

Kirk remains disengaged, almost sulking. Ignoring him, Laurel tells Dale and Roland where to sign, then me, explaining the small print and conditions.

Shaking a little, I take the pen and aim for the signature line.

“Excuse me.” Kirk fires out of his chair, almost toppling it over. “Caroline, I-I, I’m not happy with my fee. No, not at all.” His glasses slip off the tip of his nose.

“Your fee?” He’s gone mad.

“Yes. I need to see you in your office.”

Laurel’s eyes darken. “Kirk.” She loses her fixed smile. “Sit down, please. I’m sure you and Caroline can renegotiate your fee after she signs. It’s not an emergency.”

Kirk lowers toward his chair, but buoys back up before his bottom hits. “Caroline, your office.”

Laurel stands, towering over him. “Kirk, what are you doing? You. Can. Talk. To. Caroline. In. About. Ten. Minutes.” Her jaw is tight. Dale and Roland chat among themselves as if unaware of Laurel and Kirk’s cloaked battle.