An Invincible Summer (Wyndham Beach), Mariah Stewart [best classic novels TXT] 📗

at her skirts on their hangers, her shirts, her jackets, blouses, and tops, trying to decide what to wear. Something plain but not dowdy. Casual but not too. The weather was projected into the low eighties, so something light. She decided on a navy pencil skirt and a white button-down long-sleeve shirt. She’d roll the sleeves up to her elbows and wear a necklace of glass beads Natalie had picked up for her on a trip to Italy. Nothing fussy, nothing she had to think about once she put it on. She wanted her focus to be on Joe, not herself.

The drive took over an hour, but it was an easy one. She kept to local roads as much as she could, avoiding the busy highway. She needed a slow-and-easy ride to calm her nerves. What if he didn’t like her? What if he decided this meeting was a mistake and at the last minute decided not to come?

She turned into the restaurant’s parking lot at 11:55 and parked in the first space she saw. Pulling down the visor, she checked her appearance in the mirror. No lipstick on her teeth. No mascara flaked on her cheeks. She fluffed her hair just a bit, took a deep breath, and got out of the car, the strap of her bag slung over her shoulder, her sunglasses covering her eyes. There were several others about to enter the restaurant when she arrived at the door, a party of five or six, and one young man who stood outside. They made eye contact briefly, and he smiled. She smiled back, a force of habit, and then he opened the door for her. Thanking him with another smile, she stepped inside, and he followed. She was taking off her sunglasses when she realized he was behind her. She turned and took a good look at him.

“Hello, Maggie.” She’d dismissed him immediately because at first glance he hadn’t looked old enough to be her forty-year-old son.

“How did you know it was me?” she asked.

He held out a hand to her, and she took it, barely noticing he hadn’t answered her question.

“I’m so glad you’re here.” To the hostess, he said, “Reservation for Miller.”

“I have two for noon.” The pretty hostess smiled at him. “Would you prefer the dining room or the patio?”

Joe turned to Maggie, who peered past him. The patio tables were almost empty, promising some privacy.

“The patio looks lovely,” she said.

The hostess led them to a table shaded by a fully leafed-out maple tree. Joe held Maggie’s chair for her, then sat across from her at the small table.

“Your server will be with you in a moment,” the hostess said as she handed them their menus.

“Thank you for coming,” Joe said. “I was afraid you’d change your mind and decide not to come.”

“After forty years?” She smiled. “Nothing could have kept me away.”

He’s almost too beautiful, she thought after he’d taken off his dark glasses and hung them from the open neck of his shirt. He was wearing the male equivalent of her outfit: navy Dockers and a white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbows. She could indeed see her eyes in his, just as Brett had said. And she could see Brett in him as well, in the dimple on the left side of his cheek, the shape of his face. She couldn’t help but smile.

“What?” Joe asked.

“You have a cowlick in the same place as Brett.”

“That was the first thing I noticed when I met him, and believe me, I didn’t thank him for it. I’ve wrestled with that thing all my life. I never could tame it.” He self-consciously tried to force it down, but it didn’t stay, and when it popped back up, they both laughed. “Well, at least I know I came by it honestly.”

The waitress came by for their drink orders and to explain the specials. They ordered ice teas, a burger for Joe, and a strawberry salad for Maggie, who had little appetite and who’d barely looked at the menu. She was mesmerized by the fact of where she was and who she was with. The miracle was not lost on her.

“Tell me about yourself,” she said. “I know you have a lot of questions, and I’ll answer what I can, but could we first learn a little about each other before we talk about the past?”

“Sure. What do you want to know?”

Everything.

The waitress returned with their drinks, and Maggie waited until she left before responding, “Where you grew up. Went to school. What you studied. What you do for a living. Are you married? Do you have children?” Maggie was suddenly overwhelmed by everything she didn’t know about this man, this newly found son. She sipped her tea to keep from asking more. There was so much to learn about him, about his life, but she had to slow down, take small bites instead of big gulps, lest he feel he was being interrogated.

“I grew up in a small town in Maine. Cape Elizabeth, near Portland. Less than ten thousand people. My dad ran the local medical center. He’d gone through med school on an ROTC scholarship, so he owed the army a few years. But once his debt was paid, he went back to his hometown, opened a clinic, and met my mom there. She was an RN. So was my wife.” The index finger of his right hand began to tap slowly on the tabletop, measured beats against the white cloth. “We lost my parents and my wife during last year’s pandemic.”

Joe’s eyes misted, and he cleared his throat.

“Oh, Joe, I’m so sorry. I am so very sorry.” Maggie reached across the table to take his hand.

He nodded, an almost imperceptible acknowledgment of her condolence, before continuing. “Thank God, my kids and I survived. I have a son—Jamey, he’s twelve—and a daughter, Louisa, seven. We call her Lulu.”

Jamey and Lulu . . .

He cleared his throat again. “Anyway. I grew up there,