“Think of it this way,” Jerry suggested. “You’re putting it in God’s hands. Last time I checked, He was even better than you at making sure things turn out the way they’re supposed to.”
Cora Jane could hardly deny that, but she sure as heck didn’t have to like it.
* * *
Boone had heard every word Cora Jane said to him on Saturday. He even believed some of it. That didn’t mean he was quite ready to let go of the guilt that had wrapped itself around him like a cloak ever since Jenny’s death. That being the case, he tried to give Castle’s a wide berth at least until Emily left town for good. He managed to steer clear on Sunday and Monday, but by Tuesday B.J. was having none of it. Boone dropped him off that morning and returned only to pick him up. He didn’t set foot inside.
On Wednesday he tried yet again to convince B.J. to spend the day with him. Unfortunately B.J.’s attachment to Emily was growing. Boone might not consider it healthy, but he understood why his son was basking in her attention. He missed his mother and needed a woman’s tender touch.
“How about hanging out at my restaurant today?” Boone suggested when they left the house.
B.J. immediately shook his head. “It’s boring there. Everybody’s too busy to pay any attention to me. Tommy won’t let me help with anything. He says I might get hurt.”
Boone could hardly argue with Tommy’s instincts, though they certainly didn’t help him out of this particular jam. “I’ll find something for you to do,” Boone promised. “Or maybe you could help Pete with something.”
B.J. didn’t look convinced. “Like what?”
“We’ll ask him when we get there,” Boone said, since no immediate ideas came to mind.
“No way,” B.J. protested. “Once you get there, you won’t want to leave, no matter how boring it is.”
“But you have that game you insisted was the best thing ever,” Boone said in frustration. “This is exactly the reason I bought it for you, so you’d have something to keep you from being bored.”
“It’s not as much fun as real work, like the kind they give me at Castle’s,” B.J. argued. “And Emily needs my help. You said so yourself.”
Boone conceded defeat, drove right on by his restaurant and headed north to Castle’s.
“What exactly did Emily let you do yesterday to help her?” he asked his son, curious to know what B.J. found so fascinating.
“She showed me this cool computer program she uses to decide on paint colors and stuff,” B.J. explained. “She thinks Castle’s should be a sky blue color with sunshine yellow trim, instead of all dark and dreary the way it is now.”
Boone hid a smile. “I assume that’s a direct quote, the dark and dreary part?”
B.J. nodded. “She called it something else, too. Rus...something.”
“Rustic?” Boone suggested.
“That’s it,” B.J. confirmed. “I wasn’t sure what it meant, so that’s when she said dark and dreary, kinda like a cave.”
Boone could only imagine how Cora Jane would react to that comparison. “And did you happen to hear what Ms. Cora Jane said when Emily proposed that idea?” Boone asked. Despite his own less-than-subtle attempts to get Cora Jane to at least listen to Emily, he had a feeling Cora Jane still wasn’t going to be open to such a dramatic change from basic beige walls and all that dark brown wood she thought gave the restaurant its beachside character.
“She says it’ll be all prettified over her dead body,” B.J. mimicked, grinning. “What’s prettified mean?”
“Something a girl would pick out,” Boone assumed. “And how did Emily handle that remark?”
“She called her a stubborn old coot,” B.J. reported. “Ms. Cora Jane just laughed. She said it took one to know one.”
Wasn’t that the truth? Boone thought as he made the turn into the Castle’s parking lot. With the main dining room back open, the restaurant appeared to be jammed. Apparently people didn’t care that there there’d been water damage and a layer of sand on the floor a few days before or that there was a hint of damp mustiness lingering in the air. The air-conditioning was back on, the place was drying out, the burgers were as good as always and the beer cold.
He was about to open the door, when Emily nearly knocked him down with it. “You talk some sense into her,” she said as she sailed past. “I give up.”
Boone instructed B.J. to go inside and went after Emily, who was crossing the road and heading for the dunes. Two cars had to hit their brakes to avoid her.
With no death wish of his own, Boone allowed the traffic to pass, then caught up with her at the water’s edge. He was half surprised she hadn’t walked right out in it, clothes and all. Maybe she should have. It might have cooled her temper.
“Want to talk about it?” he asked, keeping his hands shoved in his pockets to avoid reaching for her. She looked as if she might shatter completely at any offer of comfort.
“What’s to talk about? I’ve shown her a dozen different ways to bring the restaurant up-to-date, to give it a little style, and she’s blown off every one of them. She doesn’t seem to realize I actually know what I’m doing. People pay me big money for my ideas.”
“Maybe she thinks those ideas are just right for a fancy restaurant in Beverly Hills, but not so great for a casual place on the beach in North Carolina,” he suggested carefully. “It’s not as if Castle’s needs to boost business. There’s a standing-room-only crowd in there right this second.”
The look she gave him cut right through him, probably damaging a couple of vital organs.
“Don’t you think that perhaps the reason I’m successful is because I know how to research customer expectations, how to create the right atmosphere for the right place?” she asked irritably. “And who knows this restaurant and these customers even half
