Дэвид Балдаччи - One Summer

Mikki, who’d been listening closely, added, “If she loved the place so much, why did they move to Cleveland?”

Pinckney said, “I think it had to do with Fred’s work.”

“People don’t buy cars down here?”

“Mikki, knock it off,” said her father.

“So why do you call it the Palace?” asked Mikki.

Pinckney grinned. “It was our mother’s doing. Her mother and father, my grandparents, were quite the Bible thumpers, but she wasn’t. Naming it the Palace made it seem like it was a casino or a saloon or something. It worked. Her parents never visited there, far as I know,” he added with a smile.

“Sounds like my kind of woman,” Mikki said tartly.

Pinckney looked at the materials in Jack’s truck. “So, fixing the place up?”

“Yeah.”

“Cee said you were great with your hands.”

“If you hear of anyone who needs work done, let me know. I’m not in a position where I can just take the summer off. I’ve got a lot of mouths to feed.”

“I’ll put the word out. Good luck with the Palace. Love to see the old place like it used to be.”

“Thanks,” Jack said. “It has great bones, just needs some TLC.”

“Don’t we all,” said Pinckney. “Don’t we all.”

“Friendly people,” remarked Mikki grudgingly as they continued down the street.

“Southern hospitality, they call it. Hey, how about some lunch before we head back?”

“Dad, you don’t have to—”

“It’s just lunch, Mik. Work with me here, will you?”

“Fine,” she said dully.

As they rounded the corner, the Mercedes sports car that had almost caused them to wreck earlier flew around the same corner. The girl’s head was swaying to the music blasting from the car’s radio. The same young man was in the front seat next to her.

Mikki yelled, “Hey!”

“Mik,” said her dad warningly.

But she was already in the street flagging the car down. The girl hit her brakes and snapped, “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

“First, turn off that crap you think is music,” said Mikki. The girl made an ugly face, but the guy hit the button and the sounds died.

“ You cut us off earlier and almost made my dad roll his truck.”

The girl laughed. “Is your hair naturally that color, or did someone throw up on it?”

The guy grimaced. “Tiff, knock it off.”

The girl gave Mikki a condescending look and then laughed derisively. “Okay, whatever. Hey, sweetie-pie, now, why don’t you go on off and play somewhere.” She hit the gas, and they sped off.

“Creeps,” Mikki screamed after them. She glared over at her dad. “Wow. So much for Southern hospitality.”

When she saw the sign a few moments later, her face brightened. “Okay, that is the place for lunch.”

Jack looked where she was pointing.

“Little Bit of Love Bar and Grill?” Jack read. “Why is that the place?”

“Come on, Dad, I have to see if this is what I think it is.”

She hurried inside, and Jack followed. There were twenty retro tables with red vinyl covers on them and chairs with yellow vinyl covers. The floor was a crazy pattern of black-and-white square tiles. The walls were covered with posters of famous rock-and-roll bands. Behind the bar, which took up one entire wall, were acoustic, bass, and electric guitars along with various costumes actually worn by band members, all behind Plexiglas. Stenciled on another wall were lyrics from famous rock songs.

Mikki looked like she’d just discovered gold in a tiny coastal town in South Carolina. “I knew it. So cool.”

Most of the tables were occupied, and the bar was doing a brisk business. Waiters and waitresses dressed in jeans and T-shirts were moving trays of food and drink from the kitchen to the patrons. Along another wall were old-fashioned pinball machines, all with a musical theme.

A woman about Jack’s age headed toward them.

“Two for lunch?” the woman said.

Jack caught himself staring at her. She was tall and slim and had dark hair that curved around her long neck. Her eyes were a light blue, and when she smiled Jack felt his own mouth tug upward in response.

“Um, yeah,” said Jack quickly. “Thanks.”

They followed her to a table, and she handed them menus.

“I can take your drink order.”

They told her what they wanted. She wrote it down and said, “Haven’t seen you before.”

Jack introduced himself and Mikki.

“I’m Jenna Fontaine,” she said. “I own this pile of bricks.”

“As soon as I saw the name, I just knew,” said Mikki.

Jack looked at her. “What do you mean?”

Jenna and Mikki exchanged smiles. Mikki said, “Def Leppard, am I right?”

“You know your rock-and-roll lyrics.” When Jack still looked puzzled, Jenna said, “ ‘Little Bit of Love’ is a Def Leppard song.”

“So you’re into music?” said Jack.

“Yes, but not nearly as much as that guy.”

She pointed to a tall, lanky teenager with long black hair who was setting plates full of food down at the next table.

“That’s Liam, my son. Now, he’s the musical madman in the family. When I decided to chuck the life of a big-city lawyer and move here and open a restaurant, the theme and décor were his idea.”

Mikki eyed Liam and then turned back to her. “Does he play?”

“Just about any instrument there is. But drums are his specialty.”

Mikki’s eyes glittered with excitement for the first time since stepping foot in South Carolina.

“I take it you’re into music too,” said Jenna.

“You could say that,” said Mikki modestly.

“So where y’all staying?”

“My great-grandma left us a house.”

“Wow. That’s pretty impressive. Well, enjoy your lunch.”

She walked off, and Jack looked down at the menu but wasn’t really seeing it.

Mikki finally touched his hand, and he jumped.

“Dad?”

“Yeah?”

“She’s really pretty.”

“Is she? I didn’t notice.”

“Dad, it’s—”

“Mik, let’s just get something to eat and get back, okay? I’ve got a lot of work to do.”

After Mikki took refuge behind her menu, Jack snatched a glance at Jenna as she seated another party. Then he looked away.

It took several days of backbreaking work to thoroughly clean the house, and all the kids pitched in, although Mikki did so grudgingly and with a good deal of complaining. “Is this how the summer’s going to go?” she said to her dad as she scrubbed down the kitchen sinks. “Me being a slave laborer?”

“If you think this is tough, join the army. There you clean the floor with a toothbrush, and it only takes about twelve hours, until they tell you to do it again,” Jack told her. She glared at him darkly as he walked off with a load of trash.

They next attacked the outside, cleaning out flower beds, pruning bushes, clearing away dead plants, and power washing the decks and the outdoor furniture. The rest of the acreage was beyond their capability — and Jack’s wallet.

With much tugging and cursing, Jack and Sammy were finally able to get the door to the lighthouse open. As Jack stepped into the small foyer, dust and disturbed spiderwebs floated through the air. He coughed and looked around.

The rickety steps looked in jeopardy of falling down. He looked through some of the boxes stacked against the wall. There was mostly junk in them, though he did find a pair of tiny pink sneakers that had the name “Lizzie” written on the sides in faded Magic Marker. He held them reverently and imagined his wife as a little girl prancing around in them on the beach. He looked through some other boxes and found a few things of interest. He carried them up to his bedroom.