Read Online Sweet Kiss by Judy Ann Davis - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Judy Ann Davis
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Swallowing the lump that was clogging her throat, she was growing resentful of Violet and her silly antics and her disregard for the feelings of others.
“He said not to worry about it, just do the best I can when I get some money.” Violet sneered. “Stay out of my business.”
They stared at each other through a chilly black silence.
“That’s unfair, Violet.”
“Oh, don’t be ridiculous. What’s unfair is you holding me hostage to Fay’s decrepit house! What’s unfair is your selfishness. What’s unfair is keeping Tappe from—” Violet’s mouth snapped shut.
“From what?”
“Never mind. Get out!” Violet turned her back on her sister and stared at her computer screen.
Fuming, Kate rose as a knot formed in her stomach. She went out into the street, stopped, and sucked in a deep breath as a wave of apprehension swept over her. She found a nearby bench and collapsed, willing herself to hold back any tears of disappointment. Without much introspection, it suddenly all came together like a person emerging from a foggy walk into bright daylight. Tappe had given Violet money in hopes her sister would convince her to sell the family homestead. Good old Saint Tappe was saving her sister while throwing her under the bus and tossing her dreams into the wind! How dare he? How dare he come waltzing into town like a white knight and interfering in her life? Kate straightened her shoulders and shook her head to clear it. Dinner tonight at the Shrimp Shack was going to be more than just a simple exchange of ideas about the town’s festival. Kate trudged back to the coffee shop, her heart cold and heavy, but her temper boiling.
****
It was exactly 4 p.m. when Kate arrived at the Shrimp Shack on the intercoastal waters to wait for Tappe. A warm breeze blew and rattled the open umbrellas shading the tables, so she chose a seat outdoors and ordered a glass of cola, hoping to catch sight of a few dolphins known to hang around the area.
“How about an appetizer? Some shrimp?” the young waiter asked as he delivered her drink. “They’re on special today. Cajun, blackened or plain. Steamed or cold.”
Kate shook her head and handed him a twenty-dollar bill. While she waited for her change, she gazed out over the waters where the sun would slowly sink in two hours or less. Soon it would color the entire vegetation and all the rivers in the estuary a glowing pink. When they were little, Aunt Fay would take Tappe, Violet, and her to a nearby inlet where they fished, dug for clams, or just played in the shallow water. Around her, she smelled the familiar scent of Old Bay, and she remembered the many nights her aunt let them stay up late to steam shrimp.
A familiar smell wafting on the breeze wrenched her from her wandering thoughts. She sat upright, slid off the bench, and rounded the building where the Dumpster stood outside the kitchen door of the shack. She lifted the lid and found garbage bags smelling like they contained all kinds of decaying shells and fish parts. She went back to her table. When the waiter returned with her change, she asked, “If someone wanted to collect a garbage bag full of shrimp shells, could he…or she…steal a bag from your Dumpster?”
“Eeeuuww!” The waiter made a horrible face like he was gagging. “Why would anyone want to steal discarded shells?”
“But it’s possible?”
“I don’t think anyone, including the owners, would care if someone walked away with a stinky bag of shells or the whole Dumpster full of fish guts and rotting rubbish.”
Kate scrutinized the front corners of the building and cocked an eyebrow. “You have cameras on the premises?”
He shook his head. “Yeah, but to be honest, the one out back is broken. It’s funny you should mention it, but a gal stopped by a few days ago and asked about shrimp shells. She said she often wondered what we do with them.” He shook his head disbelievingly. “What do people think we do with them besides
“He said not to worry about it, just do the best I can when I get some money.” Violet sneered. “Stay out of my business.”
They stared at each other through a chilly black silence.
“That’s unfair, Violet.”
“Oh, don’t be ridiculous. What’s unfair is you holding me hostage to Fay’s decrepit house! What’s unfair is your selfishness. What’s unfair is keeping Tappe from—” Violet’s mouth snapped shut.
“From what?”
“Never mind. Get out!” Violet turned her back on her sister and stared at her computer screen.
Fuming, Kate rose as a knot formed in her stomach. She went out into the street, stopped, and sucked in a deep breath as a wave of apprehension swept over her. She found a nearby bench and collapsed, willing herself to hold back any tears of disappointment. Without much introspection, it suddenly all came together like a person emerging from a foggy walk into bright daylight. Tappe had given Violet money in hopes her sister would convince her to sell the family homestead. Good old Saint Tappe was saving her sister while throwing her under the bus and tossing her dreams into the wind! How dare he? How dare he come waltzing into town like a white knight and interfering in her life? Kate straightened her shoulders and shook her head to clear it. Dinner tonight at the Shrimp Shack was going to be more than just a simple exchange of ideas about the town’s festival. Kate trudged back to the coffee shop, her heart cold and heavy, but her temper boiling.
****
It was exactly 4 p.m. when Kate arrived at the Shrimp Shack on the intercoastal waters to wait for Tappe. A warm breeze blew and rattled the open umbrellas shading the tables, so she chose a seat outdoors and ordered a glass of cola, hoping to catch sight of a few dolphins known to hang around the area.
“How about an appetizer? Some shrimp?” the young waiter asked as he delivered her drink. “They’re on special today. Cajun, blackened or plain. Steamed or cold.”
Kate shook her head and handed him a twenty-dollar bill. While she waited for her change, she gazed out over the waters where the sun would slowly sink in two hours or less. Soon it would color the entire vegetation and all the rivers in the estuary a glowing pink. When they were little, Aunt Fay would take Tappe, Violet, and her to a nearby inlet where they fished, dug for clams, or just played in the shallow water. Around her, she smelled the familiar scent of Old Bay, and she remembered the many nights her aunt let them stay up late to steam shrimp.
A familiar smell wafting on the breeze wrenched her from her wandering thoughts. She sat upright, slid off the bench, and rounded the building where the Dumpster stood outside the kitchen door of the shack. She lifted the lid and found garbage bags smelling like they contained all kinds of decaying shells and fish parts. She went back to her table. When the waiter returned with her change, she asked, “If someone wanted to collect a garbage bag full of shrimp shells, could he…or she…steal a bag from your Dumpster?”
“Eeeuuww!” The waiter made a horrible face like he was gagging. “Why would anyone want to steal discarded shells?”
“But it’s possible?”
“I don’t think anyone, including the owners, would care if someone walked away with a stinky bag of shells or the whole Dumpster full of fish guts and rotting rubbish.”
Kate scrutinized the front corners of the building and cocked an eyebrow. “You have cameras on the premises?”
He shook his head. “Yeah, but to be honest, the one out back is broken. It’s funny you should mention it, but a gal stopped by a few days ago and asked about shrimp shells. She said she often wondered what we do with them.” He shook his head disbelievingly. “What do people think we do with them besides
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