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“She’s a pain in my ass,” Joe said, which Lucas assumed was code for “me too.”
Chapter 13
Ella wiped down a table that was recently vacated and shoved the decent tip into the front pocket of her red apron. It was moving closer to tourist season and a few had already started their descent into their small town. Before she knew it, the town would be overrun with faces she didn’t know and voices she’d never heard before.
She loved that her town was a place for people to get away, experience a little piece of what the beautiful coast of Maine had to offer, but a part of her also hated sharing her special place on the beach. In the next few weeks, her private oasis would be filled with overzealous children and neurotic mothers who were afraid of letting their kids get too close to the water.
The sweet serenity would be lost, and Ella would have nowhere to go to get away from the chaos. She loved her family more than life itself, but sometimes they were a little overbearing and she needed to slip away.
A loud clatter drew Ella’s attention toward the kitchen. She heard her grandfather yelling, and she raced back to see what the problem was. Inside the kitchen pots, and pans were knocked over, Chris, the cook, was standing with his arms crossed while Vinny waved a spatula out the door, a string of curses in Italian flowing from his mouth.
“Let me guess,” Ella said, turning to Chris. “Diavolo struck again.”
Chris uncrossed his arms and began picking up pans. He looked at Ella and smirked. “Can’t you tell?”
“That damn seagull!” Vinny yelled as he turned back into the kitchen, and Ella covered her mouth to keep from laughing.
Once the warm weather returned and the kitchen door was left open to cool the kitchen with the ocean breeze the seagull, rightfully named Diavolo, made it a habit to steal whatever he could latch onto before someone chased him out.
For Ella, it was the first signs of the season. She helped Chris pick up the rest of the mess and brought them over to the sink to give a quick wash.
“That seagull has a death wish,” Vinny said, holding his fist up like Diavolo could see him or even understand him.
“Come on, Grandpa, let me pour you a little limoncello.” Ella guided Vinny away from the kitchen and toward the tiny bar they had. He slid onto one of the stools and she grabbed a rock glass, pouring a healthy amount of the alcohol into it and sliding it across the outdated wood top.
She really wished he would let her redecorate the small space, but every time she brought it up, he shot it down. Eventually she just gave up asking, but it didn’t stop her from imagining everything that she could do to transform the dated interior.
Vinny took a sip of the limoncello and smiled. The tension that had been visible in the creases around his eyes eased.
“Better?” she asked.
“Much.”
“Good. Now you stay here and finish that, and I’m going to take this over to Wilson’s house. Fran is having a bad day, and I don’t want him to have to cook for himself,” Ella said. She had seen Wilson at the grocery store earlier, standing in the meat aisle and looking lost.
Both Wilson and Fran were part of her extended family and though she couldn’t cure Fran, though she wished she could, she wanted to help in any way possible. Helping with the little things like dinner might not have been much but at least Fran could focus on healing while Wilson had a good meal without the added stress.
Vinny took her hand and hugged it to his chest. “You have a beautiful soul, cuore mio.”
“It runs in the family,” she said, chucking his chin.
“Tell Wilson if he needs anything to call me.” He jammed his finger into the bar to get his point across.
Her grandfather would drop everything for the ones he loved they just had to say the word.
“I will,” Ella said. She grabbed the to-go bag off the counter and headed outside to her bike.
She passed Martha who was dressed in a beautiful aquamarine tunic that flowed behind her and danced with the breeze. Ella gave her a wave.
“Hi sweetie,” Martha said, waving back, her bracelets clacking together with the movement. Ella always loved Martha. She was the definition of a flower child and definitely danced to her own beat, but that’s what made her so special.
“Stop by later. I just got a new shipment of that goatmilk lip balm you like.”
“I definitely will,” Ella said.
“Good. I’ll put one aside for you then.”
“That’d be great. Thanks.”
