“Yes.” Justine rested both elbows on the table. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about it,” she said. Although the building process hadn’t yet begun, she had a clear vision of the kind of restaurant she wanted. The menu had to be exactly right, and Justine couldn’t think of anyone better to consult than her own grandmother.
“It’s a good idea to plan ahead.” Charlotte paused in her knitting to look at Justine. “Olivia told me you’re going to serve breakfast, lunch and a high tea, then close in the evenings.”
Justine nodded. “Seth and I decided we’d rather have our evenings together. Leif’s flourished in the last few months with both of us home.” The arson that had destroyed The Lighthouse had eventually—and unexpectedly—turned out to be a blessing in a very nasty disguise. She was grateful no one had been hurt or worse. And grateful that this crime had changed their lives in a positive way.
“You’re wise to put your family first.”
Justine suspected her marriage wouldn’t have survived another year at the rate they’d been going. She glanced out at the yard, where Seth frolicked with their son and Penny.
“You said you talked to Mom. Were you at the courthouse today?” Her grandmother liked to watch Justine’s mother at work. Charlotte sat proudly in Olivia’s courtroom and knitted away, although her visits had become less frequent now that she’d married Ben.
“Actually I ran into her this morning while I was in town. She was on her way to a doctor’s appointment.”
Justine tensed. She didn’t remember her mother mentioning that, and they spoke nearly every day. “Oh.”
“It’s nothing serious,” Charlotte said quickly. “Just a routine visit, she told me. For her mammogram.”
“Oh, good.” Justine relaxed in her chair, crossed her legs and picked up her own glass of iced tea. “I’d like some of your recipes, Grandma,” she began.
“Any in particular?” Charlotte’s fingers manipulated the needles and yarn with familiar ease.
“I was hoping to get the recipe you have for scones.” They were a long-time family favorite and Charlotte baked them for nearly every family function.
Charlotte seemed pleased. “The herb-and-cheese scones are the ones I like best.”
“Me, too.”
Her grandmother paused reflectively. “My mother used to make those scones, so that recipe actually came from her. I have a couple of other scone recipes I’ll write out for you, as well,” she added. “Clyde’s favorite was a walnut-and-butter scone. Ben prefers the herb-and-cheese.”
“Thanks,” Justine said. “But I’d be happy to copy them out myself if—” It suddenly occurred to her that her grandmother might have all these family recipes in her head, that she might never have written them down before.
“I’ll bring them to you tomorrow morning,” Charlotte went on. “In fact, you’re welcome to all my recipes, dear. Just tell me which ones you want.”
“Grandma,” Justine said, broaching the subject carefully. “You do have your recipes written down somewhere, don’t you?”
Charlotte laughed. “Good grief, no.”
“No!”
“I’ve been cooking for over seventy years. The recipes were taught to me by my mother and, well, I never thought it was necessary. I certainly wasn’t going to forget them.”
“What about the raspberry vinaigrette salad dressing?”
“Oh, that one,” Charlotte said with a sigh. “I got it from a newspaper article around 1959. I’ve changed it through the years.”
“Grandma, would you write them out for me? All of them?”
“Of course.” Her knitting needles made soft clicking sounds as she continued to knit. “Actually, that’s an excellent suggestion, Justine. I’m sure Ben will approve, too. He always says I should publish a cookbook, you know. He loves my peanut butter cookies.” She preened just a little.
“And your cinnamon rolls.”
“I think that man married me for my baking.”
Justine laughed at the absurdity of her comment. One look at Ben Rhodes, and anyone could see that he was crazy about Charlotte.
“Now tell me more about the tearoom,” Charlotte said conversationally.
Justine smiled. “Well, there’s been a change in plans.”
“Oh?” Her grandmother stopped knitting for a moment.
Justine uncrossed her legs and leaned forward. “Seth and I couldn’t tell anyone until all the details were settled. The builder, Al Finch, contacted us a few weeks ago and asked if we’d be willing to sell the property. He said he might have a buyer.”
Silence followed her statement. “I thought you and Seth weren’t interested in doing that.”
“We weren’t, especially if it meant that a fast-food franchise would be built on the waterfront. But this is the best part, Grandma. The man who inquired about the land, Brian Johnson, is a friend of Al’s. He’s owned a number of restaurants through the years. He retired but got bored. Seth and I met with him and we were both impressed. Brian said he’d like to rebuild The Lighthouse the way it was. He even wants to keep the name.”
“But that was your restaurant,” her grandmother protested.
“True, but he’s willing to pay us for the name and everything.”
Her grandmother paused again, as if she needed time to absorb the news. “Are you going to do it? And what about the tearoom? Where will you build that?”
Justine explained that Al Finch had shown them a piece of commercial property off Heron that he owned and was planning to sell. The location was perfect for The Victorian Tea Room. “We signed the papers earlier this week.”
There was another moment of silence.
“You aren’t disappointed in us, are you, Grandma?”
“No,” her grandmother assured her. “I think this is wonderful news.”
So did Justine. All the hard work they’d put into The Lighthouse wouldn’t go to waste now. Seth had given the new owner his suggestions on how to rebuild the restaurant, and now that she was no longer involved, she looked forward to seeing it emerge from the ashes.
“It’s happened so fast.”
“It has,” Justine agreed, “but it feels right. This new location is much better for the tearoom and there’s more parking. I can’t believe how all of this practically fell into our laps.”
“I’m pleased for both of you,” her grandmother said.
“I am, too.” Justine gazed longingly into the backyard. Seeing Seth with Leif brought her a feeling of contentment, of satisfaction. This was what she’d always wanted, what she’d hoped for in her marriage.
“I should get home,” Charlotte said. “Ben’s probably wondering what’s keeping me.” She finished her iced tea, put her knitting back in her bag and stood up.
“It’s wonderful to see you, Grandma.”
“You, too, sweetheart.” She kissed Justine’s cheek. “I’ll start writing down those recipes. I’ll do my best to remember them all, so if I forget any, let me know.” She frowned. “I’d better go through the ones I cut out from magazines, too. And the ones I was given at wakes.”
“Isn’t that where you got your fabulous coconut cake recipe? At a wake?”
“Yes—Mabel