Farewell to Cedar Key by Terri Dulong

lean toward the simple, and I knew that despite what she said, the chicken had involved at least an hour of prep time. “You’re not feeling well again?”
    She waved a perfectly manicured hand in the air. “No, it was nothing. Just a tummy twinge and could have been something I ate.”
    Orli began to help my mother fill the dishwasher.
    â€œWant me to get the coffee ready?”
    â€œYes, that would be good, Josie. We’ll have it outside on the patio.”
    After I filled the paper coffee filter and poured the carafe of water into the machine, I reached into the cabinet for the tray and arranged three mugs along with the sugar bowl and creamer. So far, so good with mealtime conversation. We had kept it light, mostly about the current novel my mother was working on, some local gossip, and Orli’s school activities.
    â€œSo,” my mother said as the four of us sat at the patio table. “Hasn’t Ben even contacted you about the memorial service for his uncle?”
    I took a sip of coffee and nodded. “Actually, he did this afternoon. It’s being held in a few weeks.”
    â€œYes, I knew that. October tenth at the Methodist church, with a lunch after. Sydney called and told me all that. But what else did Ben have to say? Will he be keeping Al’s house and stay there when he visits? Is he going to move here permanently now?”
    â€œI have no idea.”
    â€œNo idea? What on earth did he tell you?”
    â€œHe didn’t actually tell me anything. He left a message on my home machine with only the details about the service. That was it.”
    My mother shook her head. “I swear, Josephine, you have the strangest relationships with men. I’ll just never understand. You two barely see each other, it doesn’t seem you’re in contact very much, his uncle passes away, and you don’t seem to know anything. You call this a romance?”
    I knew I was gnawing on my lower lip and didn’t care. “I’ve never called this a romance—whatever it is. It’s not one of your novels. Ben and I have been trying to figure out exactly what it is we have. Which at this point doesn’t seem like very much. So let it go, Mom. Please.”
    My mother was about to say something more, but my father interrupted her. “So, Josie, am I still the lone pupil for those knitting classes?”
    Bless my dad. “No, actually, you’re not. I had a man sign up today. He’s new in town and renting a place on Third Street for the winter. He’s in your age group and seems very nice.”
    â€œTerrific. I look forward to meeting him. I think it’ll be a fun class.”
    â€œOh,” my mother said, “and I forgot to tell you, I bumped into Doyle Summers at the book shop earlier today and he plans to drop by and sign up too. So you’ll have at least three.”
    â€œVery good. And maybe there will be a couple more,” I told her, grateful that she’d gotten off the subject of Ben. “And . . . I think I have some good news to share. You know the new doctor who’s opening a practice here? Dr. Clark had recommended me, and Dr. Mancini called me today to set up an interview for Friday.”
    My father reached over to squeeze my arm. “That is good news, Josie. It would be great if you could work right here in town instead of having to do the commute to Gainesville.”
    When my mother didn’t comment, I looked over at her, waiting for a reaction.
    â€œWell . . . yes. That does sound promising. Of course, there’s a huge difference between working for a small-town doctor and a large city hospital. But . . . of course that’s your choice.”
    Yes, Mom, I thought, it is.
    â€œSo,” she said, “I don’t think I’ve told you. The foolishness with CC? It’s only getting worse. Now she tells me she’s planning a trip to Tuscany with this young guy. Not only that,