“Like anything else,” I say, “it was a mixed bag. Bad for some people, good for others.”
A shine brightens Suze’s aqua eyes. “Yeah.” She brushes hair from her face, and I’m glad to see her relaxing in a public place. It’s her hometown and with her oldest friend, but it’s progress.
Jasmine says, “Why can’t I come back now?”
“You’re here now,” I say.
“No, when my mom goes to London. Why can’t I stay here with you like I did then?”
“Your mom would miss you too much.”
She bows her head, sucks in her cheeks. “I don’t want to move so far away.”
Suze leans into her, whispers, “I’ve been there. It’s really cool. You might see castles.”
“I know.” She shrugs. “I like Blue Cove the best.”
“You can come back,” I say. “And I’ll come see you, too.” My stomach is aching a little, both for her worries and my sense of loss. But as a grandmother, my job is always to facilitate the best thing for her. To that end, I say, “What if we go to the library and get some books about England?”
She considers. “Okay. That might be good.”
“I think you’re going to love it,” Suze says.
Jasmine nods, drinks milk through her paper straw.
“To change the subject completely,” Suze says, “can one of you recommend an electrician? I’m having trouble with a fuse knocking things off.”
“You still haven’t fixed that?” I ask.
“Not urgent if I’m not there.”
“I’ve been pretty happy with Blue River,” Ben says. “They did some work on the greenhouses a couple of months ago.”
“Cool. Thanks.”
“I’ll give them a call for you.”
Suze simply accepts the help. “Thanks.”
Two waitresses bring out our food, pancakes and bowls of whipped cream and piles of bacon and scrambled eggs. We dig in happily. Jasmine gives us some more facts on tsunamis, and Ben gleefully joins in, impressing her.
It isn’t until after the meal, when we are stuffed to the gills and leaning back happily, that the whole thing goes south. Suze glances over her shoulder, sees the restaurant is thinly populated, and asks Jasmine to let her out. Her mouth lifts on one side and she says to me quietly, “I’m going to the bathroom all by myself.”
I chuckle. “You want me to come with you?”
“I can do it.”
Jasmine takes her hand. “I want to go, too,” she says, and some part of me knows she’s being protective, as she’s seen me do.
“That would be great.”
They saunter toward the ladies’ room.
Ben says, “Hey, Phoebe.”
I look at him. “Hey, Ben.”
“I was wondering if you might—”
Yelling breaks out at the front of the restaurant, and I’m on my feet before I register that it’s the man who was glaring at us, furiously screaming at Suze, who’s trying to push Jasmine behind her, but Jasmine isn’t that compliant. I hear the man say, Elites . . . ruining the country . . . God will punish, and then I see Jasmine pull away from Suze and kick the man in the shin.
“Shut up!” she cries. “You’re a bully!”
The man raises his hand as if to strike Jasmine, but Suze shoves him with both hands. “Don’t you dare.”
By then I’ve reached them, and so has the store manager, who sticks her hand between them. “Get out,” she says to the man. “Or I will call the police.”
He starts to rant, and she pulls the phone from her pocket. “I mean it. And you’d better not ever show your face in here again.”
“I’m a regular customer!” he protests. “She’s a Hollywood elite who—”
“Is safe here. You get out.”
He whirls around and storms out, muttering. I drop to my knees and grab Jasmine. “What were you thinking?”
“He was being mean!”
“I know, but you just can’t do stuff like that.” Tears well in the back of my throat. What if he’d had a gun? What if he’d hit her? “Let adults manage things, will you?”
Suze is standing there, frozen. Her hands are shaking, and Ben comes up beside her. “Let’s get you home.”
“We should report it to the sheriff,” I say, standing. “Considering the squirrel.”
“Squirrel?” Ben echoes.