“People always say that, but if you like someone and they like you, what’s so complicated about it?”
“Billy, you are wise beyond your years.”
* * *
—
Aiden and Bill had set up a trestle table in the patio area and were ladling steaming mulled cider from two large vats into paper cups. The little pyres along the beach were lit, and the dark promenade was as busy as any sunny Saturday. John came in with a cup of hot cider.
“Come on,” he said. “Close the café for ten minutes and watch the procession. You too, Billy.”
Annie did as she was told.
The golden flecks of candles shimmered in the darkness like fireflies. The ghosts of Christmas swayed above the heads of the procession—lit with torches from below, by the puppeteers who held them—their robes rippling in the breeze, their huge faces ghastly in the cold light of the moon. The choir sang “Good King Wenceslas” as they processed, then “I Saw Three Ships,” “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen,” and “Ave Maria.” As more people left the little fires on the beach to join the choir, they sang carols with more well-known lyrics like “Deck the Halls” and “We Three Kings.” When at last they reached the café, the ghosts were secured facing out to sea and the folk band picked up the music. Annie felt warm despite the cold. She saw Alfred a little way along the promenade and waved. He waved back.
“Come on, Annie!” shouted someone in the crowd. “What are you playing at, I’m starving!”
A roar of agreement went up.
“I guess that’s my cue!” Annie laughed. “Come on, Billy, let’s feed the hungry hordes.”
“We’ll give you a hand,” Peter called over; he and Alex had both had part-time jobs at the restaurant in their teens, so they knew the drill.
* * *
—
By the time Annie had scraped the last of the vegetable stew into a bowl and announced, “That’s it, folks!” she was clean out of biscuits, cakes, and hot chocolate powder. Even with Peter, Alex, and Greg helping, they were still rushed off their feet. John had taken over the kiosk and had managed to soothe even the most impatient customers. There was something about his courtliness that disarmed people. It was not so long ago that Annie had found his manner overly formal and pompous, but now she found that it was one of her most favorite things about him.
“Um, Annie.” John came up behind her as she was finishing off two chai lattes. “There’s someone at the kiosk.”
Annie peered around his shoulder and made a reflexive “Urghh” sound. Max.
“Can I help you?” Annie asked.
“I thought I’d come and see you. The boys are staying with me tonight, so I thought I’d pop down . . .” He trailed off.
Annie looked back into the café. It was emptying out now; she would close in a few minutes anyway.
“Boys!” she called back. “Dad’s here. Go out and spend a bit of time with him, Billy and I can take it from here.”
“I thought we could talk,” said Max.
“About?”
“Everything.”
“Everything is not going to fit into this evening. And you may have noticed, I’m rather busy at the moment.”
“Later, then.”
Annie could feel John’s eyes on the back of her neck while Max made puppy eyes at her from the front. She turned back into the café.
“Honestly, boys, thank you, but it’s all right. I’ve got this.”
Alex and Peter finished what they were doing and headed outside. Greg followed behind them, but not before he’d turned back to Annie and given her an exaggerated eye roll. She smiled and began to clear tables. She saw Max hovering at the kiosk window in her peripheral vision but ignored him.
Alfred came in, and Annie brought over a slice of cake she’d held back for him.
“I’ll be leaving tomorrow,” he said.
“I know.”
“You’ve done a good job here.”
“I think you’re doing the right thing, but it won’t be the same here without you.”
“I’d have been pushing off to the city before long anyway.”
“But still. I’ll miss you.”
“John’s right. It’s time to face my demons. I’ve got to at least give it a try. Tide’s in tonight.”
“Good job you can sleep here, then.”
Alfred nodded and headed back outside.
* * *
—
A couple of hours later and the revelers had drifted home, the band and the makeshift bar were dismantled, and the little beach fires had been doused and the wet wood piled into the back of Paul’s pickup. The beach was cold and dark and still, and it was hard to believe that there had ever been a party; if it weren’t for the presence of Max and the boys, Annie might have thought she’d imagined it all. John had made himself scarce ever since Max’s arrival. He’d popped in briefly to say good-bye and tell her what time he was dropping Alfred off the next day.