Page 15 of Stony Point Summer
Maris unfolds the note and sees Sal’s handwriting there. “A promise is a promise, my friend,” she reads softly, “and I’m good for my word. Your truck is mine now, fair and square, with this check.” She pauses and looks up at Kyle, who nods for her to go on. “And what you’re going to do is get a good set of wheels for that beautiful famiglia of yours. I believe there was a silver king cab you had your eye on. This check should cover it. And don’t settle. Make sure it’s the right one, just like I did when I saw your sweet wheels, man. Oh, and Bradford? Anything left over, you put into that house fund. –Sal.” Gently, Maris slides the paper back to Kyle. “So sad. My cousin had themostgenerous heart and soul, when his own heart was failing him.”
“Isn’t that the way. Never happens to the bad eggs out there, does it?” Kyle returns the note to his wallet. “Anyway, I’ve still got Sal’s 40K burning a hole in my bank account.”
“Fortythousand?”
“I know. I thought the same thing last year, that day Micelli delivered it. And when I tried to give the check back to him, he wouldn’t hear of it. Told me DeLuca’s net worth was shocking. That 40K didn’t make a drop in the bucket. And Sal was buying my vehicle with it as promised, like it or not.”
“Sal loved that old truck of yours,” Maris says while reaching for a menu on the counter.
“Sure did.” Kyle nods to a customer leaving a tip and heading out. “Catch you next week, Smithy,” Kyle calls after him, then turns back to Maris. “That truck needs a few prayers whenever I start it up in this godawful heat. The engine’s crapping out on mebigtime.” As he says it, he lifts the edge of his chef apron and dabs at his face. “I really oughta use Sal’s gift and trade in that hunk o’ metal.”
“Yo, Kyle,” his cook, Jerry, calls from the kitchen. “Let’s go! Orders are piling up.”
And just like Lauren, Kyle simply waves to Maris and hurries back to the kitchen in a blur.
* * *
“Wow, busy here,” Maris tells her waitress, Stacy, as she sets down a glass of ice water on her placemat. All the surrounding tables and booths are filled with families, and couples, and children, and friends.
“No one wants to cook in this heat,” Stacy says.
“No kidding. And I don’t have central air at home, so I can assure you. The hot breeze blowing in the windows? Feels like it’s sent straight from hell,” Maris says with a swivel on her stool. “Which is why I’m here in the a/c,” she adds, without mentioning the kitchen dishes and potholders and towels piled sky-high on her dining room table,andthe pots and pans all packed away in boxes.
“What can I get you, hon?” Stacy sets down a folded napkin and silverware.
“Does Kyle have a special today?”
“Breaded and fried pork chops. With sweet-potato fries and applesauce.”
“Sounds good.”And boy, does it ever, Maris thinks.At last, some real home cookin’. “I’ll have that, please.”
* * *
But Maris is surprised when, instead of Stacy, Kyle brings out her food. The diner is so busy, surely he’s needed at the stoves. Even more curious? He walksaroundthe counter, sets down her plate and sits on the stool beside hers. Which is when she figures what he’s up to—some good old-fashioned diner prying.
“So … What’s up with you and your old man? Still apart?” Kyle watches as she salts her breaded pork chops. “Getting divorced?”
Maris just shakes her head. Leave it to Kyle to get to the heart of the matter, especially where Jason’s concerned. “Kyle, come on,” she says.
“No,youcome on.” Kyle motions to a wall-mounted calendar behind the counter. “Ten days ago, you sat on that same diner stool, crying and telling me Jason left. And from where I’m sitting? Nothing’s changed.”
“Well, I can assure you we arenotdivorcing. Things are okay. We’re talking. But let’s just say the ball’s inmycourt now, Kyle.” Maris cuts a piece of pork chop and spears it with her fork. “NotJason’s.”
“Whoa. Calling the shots, Maris. Good for you. You show that S.O.B who’s boss.”
“Oh, I will,” she says, dragging her fork through a serving of applesauce.
“So will Jason be at the inn’s grand opening tomorrow?”
“Of course,” Maris tells him around a mouthful of pork chop. “He’d never let Elsa down. Especially sinceheoversaw the inn’s entire renovation.”
Kyle spins his stool around and leans his elbows back on the counter. “Still. It’s going on two weeks now that he’s at Ted’s place. How long do you suppose he’ll hole up there?”
“Hard to say. Being at Ted’s alone, though—that distance gives Jason space. And it’s helping him make peace with things in his life. Helping our marriage, too,” she admits, thinking of their recent date without making mention of it.
“If you’re sure.”
“I am. Let’s give him more time before I get him back home.”
