Blue Moon Read Online Free Page B

pronounce the names right, she knew who was who. But sometimes her thoughts would pile up, and she’d wail and rage until Cass scooped her up, patting her headand whispering into her ear, because even if Josie couldn’t hear right the warm breath had to feel good.
    Right now Cass and Josie were on their way back from snorkeling. They decided to stop at Lobsterville, just to say hello. Billy had taken T.J. and Belinda to a Red Sox game, and Cass needed some company.
    People drinking cocktails milled about outside. The Keatings had initiated an Early Bird Special—half-price lobsters—from five o’clock to six-thirty. This was Nora’s latest idea. Nora was the family moneymaker, this generation’s answer to their grandmother. Sometimes Cass had the sense Nora stayed up all night thinking of the business to avoid feeling lonely. Nora was a spinster. Not just “single” or “unmarried,” but somehow pinched and increasingly ungenerous. All the Keating girls had what Cass liked to call their “romantic histories,” but Nora had slept with one too many womanizing yachtsmen, and she’d turned bitter.
    “We’re going to see the ons, we’re going to see the ons,” Josie said, doing a happy little high-step.
    “Hello, sweethearts,” Mary Keating said.
    “Hi, Mom,” Cass said.
    Mary stood behind the reservations desk. A cigarette dangled from her mouth, and she squinted through the smoke at the thick green reservations book. Mary was tiny—several inches shorter than any of her daughters. Cass saw she’d gotten a new perm. Her hair curled in tight steel-gray rings, and the red lipstick she wore made her mouth look enormous. She always matched her lipstick to warm shades in her dress, and today she wore crimson.
    Josie scrambled up the tall wooden stool to see what her grandmother was doing. Waiters wearing white shirts and madras ties—a fashion innovation of Nora’s; Cass liked the skinny black ties better—rushed in and out through the kitchen’s swinging doors.
    “Where’s Bonnie, Mom?” Cass asked.
    “Around. Behind the bar, last I saw.”
    A portly man, balding, wearing aviator sunglasses, approached the reservations desk. “Mary! How’ve you been? You remember me.”
    From her warm smile, no one but the family would know that Mary Keating had no idea who this guy was.
    “Could you make me a reservation for eight people at eight o’clock?” he asked.
    Mary glanced at her book. “Sorry, hon. We’ve got before six-thirty or after nine-thirty,” she said.
    The man slid a folded bill across the desk. Cass watched Josie, to see if she’d seen. Of course Josie was staring at her grandmother’s closed hand. “We just cruised down from Edgartown,” he said. “Would’ve called you from the boat, but the marine operator couldn’t get a line. Everyone’s going to be damned disappointed. A trip to Mount Hope wouldn’t be the same without dinner at Lobsterville.”
    “That’s right, dear,” Mary said. “Okay, I’ll squeeze you in. Eight o’clock sharp. In the Tap Room. No harbor view, but if you’ve just sailed down from the Vineyard, you’ve had enough of the water.”
    “That’s great,” the man said. “We’ll see you then.”
    “Mom …” Cass said, nodding at Josie. She didn’t approve of Josie learning graft from her own grandmother.
    Mary shrugged her shoulders. “This is the restaurant business, honey,” she said.
    “He gave you money,” Josie said.
    “He was just paying for his dinner in advance,” Mary said. “That way there won’t be any squabbling over the check.” Cass didn’t consider the lie an improvement; Josie had an unnerving knack for discerning the truth. Cass watched her now, regarding her grandmother with puzzlement.
    “Me have candies?” Josie asked, sensing that she had mysteriously gained the upper hand.
    “No, it’s too close to dinner. You can call someone on the loudspeaker, though.” Mary ran her finger down the reservations list. “You