My lip wiggled sheepishly. “Yeah, sorry about that.”
“Don’t worry, Perry. I’m just glad nothing happened to you.”
He watched me intently as if he was trying to suss out whether something had happened to me or not.
“No,” I said slowly, “I guess nothing really did happen to me. But since you think the lighthouse is evil, a lot of the....feelings....I had about the place would back that up.”
He patted my hand. “And I’m glad you’re not going back in there.”
I smiled at him. I felt happy for getting to know my uncle better. Maybe this weekend wasn’t such a waste after all.
“Though I must say,” he started, “I thought last night he—”
Before he could finish that thought, there was a loud knock at the door. I jumped in my seat, the coffee finally giving my heart a boost. Al got up and opened the front door.
“Good morning, sir. I’ve come for the lady.” Dex was at the door, feigning importance. He had a cap on his head and tipped it jauntily.
“Come in, Dex.” Al ushered him inside and closed the door.
Dex walked over to me with a smile on his face. It also gave my heart a jolt.
“Good morning. Care for some breakfast before we go?” he asked.
“Um, oh, sure.” I eyed the clock on the wall.
“Sorry for just dropping by.” He looked at both of us. “I tried calling your cell a few times and I texted you, but there was either no answer or I kept getting the wrong number.”
His voice lowered over that last part. I studied his face. His grin faltered slightly. Was he lying? No one had called or texted me at all that morning. I got out my iPhone just in case and looked it over. Nope. Nothing.
“Anyway,” Dex continued, looking at Al. “I’m afraid I’ve got to steal away your niece now. I’ve still got to make it up to Seattle for tonight.”
“Be my guest. I’m sorry you guys are walking away empty-handed, but I suppose these things always happen for a reason.”
“I believe that very much, Uncle Al,” Dex said. He looked at me. “Will it take you long to pack?”
I slammed the last bit of coffee down. I hated having to rush. I got up and picked up my bag. “All ready to go.”
He gave me the thumbs up sign, then promptly turned on his heel and walked out of the house.
I looked at Al and rolled my eyes by way of explaining his actions. Which I couldn’t. So I hugged him goodbye and thanked him for everything, then scuttled outside after Dex.
The SUV was running in the driveway; the steam rising up from its tailpipe gave it a warm, welcome look in the morning downpour.
Though it was only a few yards, I was fairly soaked when I swung the door open and jumped inside.
Dex put his hand on the gearshift and gave me the once over.
“Were you even alive in the nineties? Because it looks like that decade chewed you up and spit you out again,” he said mockingly.
He put the car in reverse and sped the car out of the driveway.
“I was born in 1988, for your information. Can’t you count?” I spat back at him. I was not in the mood for teasing of any sort.
He turned to me with an excited leer. I could tell he was in the mood for teasing.
“You’re only a child of the nineties if you had your teenage years during that decade. I mean look at you, all Doc Martens and Converse and leggings.”
“You’re the one with the eyebrow ring,” I shot back. “I think it’s better to emulate a time period you haven’t properly lived through. Otherwise, you’re just holding on to the past.”
He laughed. “I have no past to hold on to.”
He flipped his MP3 player on. To my surprise, Billy Joel came on. “Scenes from an Italian Restaurant,” to be precise.
Dex began to sing along.
Here was the infamous voice of Declan Foray. It was smoother, deeper, and more powerful than Joel’s. It seemed to float over the words, vibrating with rich tones. It was gorgeous, hypnotic....and so out of place.
He continued to sing until he noticed me staring at him. I must have looked very confused.
Dex turned down the volume. “I do this in the mornings. So where did you want to eat? I saw this great stereotypical diner in town that must serve the blackest coffee this side of the divide.”
“Sure, sounds good,” I said as he went straight back into song, snapping his fingers and wiggling in his seat.
He did this every morning? I looked at the clock. It was eight-thirty a.m. Where on earth did he get the energy to put on a musical at this hour?
I wasn’t complaining, though; it was fascinating to listen to and to watch, once I got past the weirdness of this spontaneous and strange direction. I didn’t think it was possible to outshine Billy Joel, but Dex was doing so as he was speeding down the coastal highway toward Tillamook.
He smiled and sang to me, it seemed.
My heart skipped a beat again. Did he know the quickest way to charm the pants off of me was to sing to me?
“I didn’t know you could sing,” I lied.
“No?” he eyed me suspiciously. “I suppose there are a lot of things you don’t know about me, kiddo. But you will...in due time.”
Right, I thought sarcastically. I knew that after this weekend there wasn’t going to be any more time for us.
A short while later, and after a couple more Billy Joel songs, which Dex unfortunately did not sing his way through, we pulled up next to the diner in Tillamook.
Dex was right about it looking stereotypical. It had a seventies orange awning with God-awful faded font on top: Tilly’s Diner. Painted on the dark, tinted windows were images of coffee cups, bacon, and eggs done up in that pebbly glass paint, peeling at the corners. I couldn’t tell from the outside if it was even open; looking down the foggy, rain-logged street I couldn’t imagine anyone actually being alive in this town, let alone having breakfast.
As we entered the diner, the smell of fat and griddled meats hit my nostrils. The door chimed loudly and echoed across the restaurant. There were a few patrons surprisingly, but not surprisingly they were ragged-looking seniors. We made our way to a table in the corner, which was covered by a green plastic tablecloth. The light was dim and terribly unflattering.
“This is charming,” I said, sliding in the padded booth across from Dex.
“It is, isn’t it?” he said, without a trace of sarcasm.