Page 33 of Summer Reading

“Is this because I’m a librarian?” he asked. “Because a lot of people assume if you’re a man who loves books you must be gay.”

“No, not at all,” I said. “My assumption is because I saw you staring at a few guys in their fifties, so I just thought you might be looking to meet a man on the more mature side.”

He leaned back and studied me. “You don’t miss much, do you?”

I didn’t, but I couldn’t exactly explain that it wasn’t nosiness so much as yet another coping mechanism. I tried to have a handle on what was going on around me at all times so that there weren’t any unforeseen surprises. Basically, it was like I went through life always anticipating a pop quiz and trying to be ready for it. Exhausting but effective, mostly.

It helped that I was a visual learner and I’d discovered in school that if I watched and listened to my teachers closely and memorized their lessons, I could usually bluff my way through assignments and tests and such.

“I’m a people watcher,” I said. That seemed like a safe response.

“You’re half-right in your observation about me,” he said. He took a long sip from his beer. “The truth is I’m—”

“Hey, Sam, look who’s here!” Finn called from behind the bar.

Damn it! I wanted to hear what Ben had been about to tell me. What did he mean I was half-right? Why was he looking at older men? I almost ignored Finn, but then I heard my name being called, and I spun on my barstool in the direction he indicated.

Standing there was Mrs. Braga, one of our neighbors and my grandmother’s best friend when she’d lived on the Vineyard. She looked overjoyed to see me.

“Excuse me,” I said to Ben.

He nodded, and I hopped off my stool and hurried over to give Mrs. Braga a hug. She had to be well into her eighties now, but she smelled exactly like she had when we were kids, faintly of rose water and baby powder, and just like that I was ten years old again.

How many summer afternoons had I spent in her kitchen with Vovó, listening to the two of them gossip in Portuguese while cooking together? I had learned almost as much from Mrs. Braga as I had from my grandmother. When Vovó had passed away when I was in culinary school, it was Mrs. Braga who convinced me to stay, to make Vovó proud. I owed her so much.

We agreed to meet up soon for afternoon tea, and she went back to her tablemates and I rejoined Ben. I was just about to ask him what he’d been about to say, when Tyler appeared in the doorway to the kitchen.

“Sam, the car is all packed,” he said. “Let’s go!”

Shoot, there went my opportunity. I forced a smile at Ben as if I wasn’t feeling thoroughly thwarted, and we finished our beers. I paid the tab and left a healthy tip, waving to Finn as I went.

“Check me out,” Tyler said. He broke into a much smoother running man than he’d been doing before, so I assumed he’d been practicing while packing. Ben joined him. His was still terrible.

“No dancing in my kitchen!” Mark yelled. Tall and wide and wielding a ladle like a cudgel, he looked like hemeant it. Couldn’t blame him, professional kitchens were hazardous enough without people breaking into dance.

“Pull it together, you two,” I hissed at them.

We slipped out the side door to the gravel lot where the staff parked. A busser and a dishwasher were sharing a vape, and we passed them on our way to my car.

“Nice moves, Chef,” the dishwasher called after us.

I glanced back to see if he was mocking me, but he looked as if he was sincere, so I flashed him a smile and kept going. We climbed into the SUV, with Tyler taking the back seat just like he had on the way to the inn.

“Nice work tonight,” I said. I drove down the narrow dark road, keeping an eye out for pedestrians. “Thank you both for your help. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“I’ll say,” Tyler said. “It was crazy busy.” He fished his phone out of his pocket and began scrolling. “Are you going to help out next week, Mr. Reynolds?”

“If I’m needed. Since we’re coworkers, you should call me Ben.”

“Yeah?” Tyler asked.

“Yeah.”

“All right.” Tyler collapsed back against his seat, looking pleased.

I glanced at Ben. The car wasn’t small, but he filled the passenger seat, with his head almost grazing the ceiling. “Thanks foreverythingtonight.”

He nodded, understanding what I meant. “It was... unexpected.”

---