I'm the ship leaving port, I thought and hung up. Aunt Zipporah was watching me.
"Everything all right?"
"Yes," I said. "It's fine."
"Good."
She returned to work, helping to put away some things in the refrigerators.
I watched a dark-haired boy in jeans and a sweatshirt with cutoff sleeves come in and
deliberately choose a table in the far right corner of the cafe. He sat and started to read what looked like a notebook. I glanced at Cassie, who looked up at him and then back at her textbook.
How odd, I thought and walked over to her. "Want me to take him?" I asked.
"Take him as far away as you can," she replied. "If he orders anything, it will only be a cup of coffee, and he'll spend an hour sipping it and sitting at the table. He'll leave you a dime."
She returned to her reading.
Everyone else was occupied, and there were no other customers in the cafe who needed attention at the moment. The boy, who looked old enough to be in college, didn't seem to care or mind that no one was hurrying to attend to him. He continued scribbling in his notebook, his head down. When I approached him, he didn't look up until. I said, "Excuse me."
When he looked up, I was looking into what I thought were the deepest dark green eyes I had ever seen. He was good-looking, with a strong, firm mouth, nearly perfect nose and sharply cut jaw. He pushed back some strands of his hair and looked at me as if I had said the most unusual or weird thing.
"You're excused," he said and looked at his notebook again.
"I meant, can I help you?"
"Oh." He looked up at me again, this time more intently. "You're new here, huh?"
"No. I've been here summers for the past two years."
"Summers," he said disdainfully. "I've just started coming in here this past spring, so you're new to me."
"Whatever," I said. "Are you here for anything?"
He looked around as if this was the first time he was asked and wasn't sure what the cafe was or had to offer.
"Coffee," he said. "Black. Hot."
He returned to his notebook. I glanced at Cassie, who was watching, a wry smile on her face. She shrugged at me and returned to her textbook. I went to get the boy his coffee. He didn't look up as I returned or even when I put it on his table, but just as I turned to leave him, he asked, "Are you going to college here?"
"No. I'm going to start high school here in the fall, however."
He looked back at his notebook as though I held no more interest since I wasn't a college student. "I'm going to live with my aunt and uncle, who own this cafe," I added, feeling the need to impress him with something. He looked up with real interest. "Where are your parents?"
"I don't have parents to take care of me," I replied.
He stared with his mouth slightly open. I waited another few moments, and then I went back to the counter. Mrs. Mallen had returned, and she began asking me questions about my grandparents, my school year. It was pretty obvious to me that Aunt Zipporah had told her nothing. She did express some concern about my limp.
"I don't recall your limping last summer."
"I was in an automobile accident," I said, "and had to have an operation. This is the best they could do for me."
"Oh my.--I' m so sorry. You don't seem that disabled, however," she added quickly.
"No, I don't seem so," I said.
Some new customers arrived for a late dinner, and Cassie rose to take care of them. I glanced at the boy, whom I caught looking at me periodically now. Aunt Zipporah came out from the kitchen and asked me to accompany her to the grocery store.