Catch of the Day Read Online Free

nicer manners than the queen of England. At thirteen, he’s mellow, but he’s always been incredibly well-behaved. I give him a piece of bacon and get back to work.
    Father Tim rises to settle his check. “Hello, Gwen, love, how are you today? Don’t you look smart in that lovely shade of yellow,” he says to Mrs. Jensen, who simpers in pleasure. He smiles at me, and my knees soften. “I’ll see you both tonight, won’t I?”
    “That’s right,” I answer. I may not be able to bring myself to Mass, but Father Tim has worn me down for Bible study. I stifle the urge to shake my head at myself. Bible study. My social plans for the week. Well, it’s not like I’m turning away dozens of suitors. Sadly, Father Tim is closer to a boyfriend than anything I’ve had in some time.
    “Nancy Ringley’s bringing the snack?” Father Tim frowns.
    “No.” I smile. “I am. Her daughter’s under the weather, so she called me.”
    His face lights up. “Ah, wonderful! About the snack, at any rate. Not her dear little daughter. I’ll see you later, then, Maggie.” He pats my shoulder with avuncular affection, causing lust and exhilaration to flow down my arm, and turns for the door. I love you, I mouth. I can’t help myself.
    Did he hear me? My face flushes in mortification as Father Tim glances back at me with a smile and a wink before going out into the cold. He waves as he crosses the street, ever kind where I’m concerned. Mrs. Jensen, who is not so tolerant, glares at me. I narrow my eyes in return. She doesn’t fool me. We suffer from the same disease—I’m just a little more obvious.
    It’s a frigid March day, the wind howling off the water, slicing through the thickest wool hats and microfiber gloves. Only a few brave souls venture out, and the day drags. We don’t get more than a handful of people at lunch. I wait for Judy to finish her crossword puzzle before sending her home, as she’s really only here for show, anyway. Octavio takes off his apron as I scrape the grill.
    “Tavy, take the rest of the pie, okay? Your kids will like it,” I tell him. He has five children.
    “They will if they get to taste it. I already had two pieces.” Octavio grins his engaging gap-tooth smile.
    I grin back. “Did Judy get any more ballots?”
    “I think she gave out a few.”
    “Great.” I’ve been relentless in asking my patrons to fill them out. Last year we lost by two hundred votes, so I need every one who crosses the threshold to pitch in. “Have a nice afternoon, Octavio,” I say.
    “You, too, boss.”
    “Here, take these cookies, too.” My cook grins his thanks, then goes out the back door.
    Colonel knows what time it is. He gets up from his spot and comes over to me for a little pat, pushing his big head against my thighs. I stroke his white cheeks. “You’re such a good boy, aren’t you?” He wags in agreement, then returns to his spot, knowing I’ll be a while yet.
    I flip the Open sign to Closed and wipe down the last table. This is one of my favorite times of day…three o’clock. We’re done for the day. Joe’s opens at six, though I usually don’t roll in until seven (the joys of ownership), but I make up my time by doing all the baking each afternoon. I’m proud to say that Joe’s desserts are locally famous, especially the pies and coconut macaroons.
    Joe’s is a Jerry Mahoney design. Red-and-cream porcelain with stainless steel siding on the outside, red vinyl seats, cream-colored walls and a black-and-white tile floor on the inside. Ten swivel stools are bolted to the floor at the counter. At one end is the requisite pastry display case where my sweets tempt the patrons. There are seven booths with nice deep backs and seats that are just bouncy enough. At some point, my grandfather had those little jukeboxes installed and, as kids, we loved flipping through to see what the new selections were. The kitchen is through a swinging door with a porthole, and there’s a tiny supply room