Chapter One

Homecoming

“Oh, Auggie, thank you for everything. You’ve given me the best graduation gift.” I can’t believe that just a few days ago, I became a college graduate. Auggie volunteered to fly out to Denver and make the long drive with me back home. I put up a bit of a fight at first, I know how busy he is, but what alternatives did I have? Drive home alone? Ask my mother to drive home with me? I don’t have the patience necessary for that. It’s a fifteen-hour drive from Denver to Chicago, then a thirteen-hour drive from Chicago to New Jersey. That’s a long time to be sitting in a car with anyone.

Besides, Auggie’s Jeep Grand Cherokee is roomy enough to fit both of us, my two year old mixed breed boxer Madeira whom I nicknamed Maddy, and all my possessions comfortably for the long trip to New Jersey. I am so thankful to have a friend like James August Deegen. I’ve always wanted a brother, and his friendship is the closest thing to having a sibling I’ll ever know. The purring of the engine as we drive along the highway is calming, relaxing even. I rest my head on Auggie’s shoulder and repeat two small, but heart-felt words, “Thank you.”

“What’s up, Jette, my Pet? You feelin’ blue?” He reaches over, grabs my hand and gives me a comforting squeeze. We have a long drive ahead of us and I am determined to enjoy every moment. I don’t answer him right away. I just shrug my shoulders, shake my head, and give a small sigh. “Juliette Evangeline Fletcher, if you don’t tell me right now, I’m pulling this car over until you spill.”

“Oh, Auggie, nothing’s wrong. I’m just tired. I didn’t get much sleep last night. Let me close my eyes for an hour and get some rest. You okay to drive for a little while?” I was up all night sorting through all the mental checklists locked up in my mind. I also have lists on my phone, on my computer, and in my recipe book. Occasionally, my need to keep things organized interferes with life, like last night, but mostly it helps me keep things in perspective.

Auggie lets me nap. I get to sleep for a solid hour, waking refreshed and energized. After that, we take turns driving. We only stop when we need to eat, use the bathroom, or let Maddy out for a stretch. Eventually, the landscape begins to resemble the home I know so well. Evergreen trees mixed with scrub pines and oak trees line the roads. An occasional deer can be spotted looking for food, sometimes in pairs. When we see the sign for the Jersey Turnpike, we both cheer out loud. It’s not that we love the Turnpike, no one does, it just means that our long car ride home is nearly over.

We are home in Point Pleasant just as the sun begins to hang low in the sky.

I will be staying at Auggie’s place until I figure out what I want to do. He is renting a beautifully updated ranch style home near the Beaver Dam Creek. I catch the first glimpse of my temporary home and I immediately fall in love. When I spot my old jalopy of a car, a rust-colored Dodge Neon, parked sleepily in the driveway, I wordlessly smile to myself.

As he gives me the grand tour, I immediately feel at peace. Although modest in size, it has the essentials: two bedrooms and a recently remodeled kitchen with antique cabinets, marble countertops, and all stainless steel appliances. It has an open floor plan with a generous island that separates the living area from the kitchen.

Auggie is staying in the master bedroom with an en-suite bathroom. That means that the guest bathroom is completely my domain. My room is right beside it. Since it is only a rental property, it is pre-furnished, including the bedroom furniture. I am a very lucky girl, indeed.

I think I’m going to like living with Auggie. He has the whole house organized and decorated tastefully. He’s added just the right amount of color and flair to turn a pre-furnished house into a home. It’s simple, clean, and subtle. I’ll have to surprise him with something special to thank him for everything. Maybe I can bake him some cookies. I have to keep my baking skills fresh, anyway. The payments on my college loan will be starting soon, and I am not going to let my degree in Baking & Pastry Arts go to waste.

I plop myself onto my new bed and look around. The whole ride here, Auggie worried that I wasn’t going to like this place, especially my room. He couldn’t be more wrong. It’s true, none of the furniture matches, but that’s what gives the room character. The desk is a deep chocolate brown. The headboard is a repurposed whitewash door. The dresser is a painted six-drawer wooded chest. It’s definitely a mismatch, but once I put my touches on it, the room will definitely pass for shabby chic. I love a good challenge and this room definitely has potential. I make a mental note of all the antique shops that line the streets of downtown Point Pleasant. Most of them seem to have survived the super storm last Halloween. Finding the right accessories and mirrors will really bring the collection together. Now all I need is a job to bankroll my wish list.

I’m immediately brought back to reality when Maddy paws at my feet. She needs to go check out her new digs, too – the backyard. Quickly, I make my way through the kitchen, into the laundry room, and find the door to the backyard. Maddy gallops out into the fenced-in yard and immediately finds a marauding squirrel that needs to know there’s a new sheriff in town. It looks like she approves of our new home, too.

Auggie and I make quick work of unpacking the Jeep while Maddy joyfully plays outside. Immediately, I start opening up the boxes, bags, and suitcases that contain all my most treasured possessions. As I look around, I can’t help but be impressed with my own packing skills. It’s hard to believe that all these boxes fit neatly into the Jeep like the pieces of a three dimensional puzzle, with every piece fitting tightly with the next and leaving no space for anything else. The drive across country from Denver to New Jersey was a challenge, but we all made it home in one piece. Now I have to reassemble my life and my belongings.

I wake up the next day and rather than unpack, I decide to turn on my laptop and see if anyone from Denver is online. Sure enough, Reese is online and I quickly send her a message.

Jette: hey stranger!

Reese: hey you. whats up?

Jette: nm u?

Reese: starting my new job 2morrow

Jette: I hope u love it.

Reese: me too. Find a job yet?

Jette: no. soon I hope

Reese: I’ll call you soon. gtg

Jette: OK. ttys

I miss Reese; she was a good roommate and a great friend. It’s not just Reese that I miss; it’s everything about life in Colorado. Reese, Simon, Luke and Sara were my best friends at school. We all came from different parts of the country, but we really made a life for ourselves. Every weekend we would embark on a different adventure. Sometimes it would involve finding a new diner for breakfast or a unique restaurant for dinner. We were all culinary students and had a passion for all things food.

Luke and I took the Baking & Pastry Arts track and spent most of our time looking for bakeries. Reese, Simon and Sara were all vying to become the next Top Chef and preferred to critique local restaurants. We rarely had classes together. During our last year in Denver, we finally had an opportunity to take the same class together in the fall – Beverage Appreciation. When Simon first suggested it, I thought he was kidding. There was no way this was a real class that would earn actual college credits. He pulled it up online and sure enough – there it was! The description read,

“This intermediate course refines the student's knowledge of beverages served in a variety of hospitality operations. Emphasis is placed on beverage sensory perception and food pairings. Students develop and analyze strategies to effectively manage, market and set standards for beverage operations. Both alcoholic and non-alcoholic beverages are examined.”

It was perfect. Reese and I liked it so much that we decided to take the advanced class in the winter – Spirits and Mixology Management. That’s where I got my Bartending Certification. I figured the more certifications I could gather while I was at school, the better off I would be.

Two days later, and it’s Friday night. Auggie suggests we go out for dinner. I know exactly where I want to go. Hurricane Sandy did some real damage to my hometown, and I’d like to see the boardwalk with my own eyes. Nearly six months have passed, and life has surely moved on, but I know the signs of devastation will still be there as a reminder for a long time to come.

“Hey, Auggie – can we go to Point Pleasant Boardwalk for dinner? Do you think anything’s open? I’d really like to check out the beach and see how Wilkinson’s held up.” Wilkinson’s Pavilion Complex includes many different attractions. They have an arcade, an aquarium with sharks, penguins and seals, boardwalk games, a sweet shop, a restaurant, and a bar. I’m thinking that perhaps, after dinner, I can see if they need any help at Wilkinson’s Sweet Shop and I can use my degree in Pastry Arts that I’ll be paying off for the next ten years.

I grew up on the boardwalk and have seen the inside of Wilkinson’s Bar from every perspective and point of view. During the day, Wilkinson’s is an air-conditioned refuge offering quick meals and drinks to anyone, young or old, needing a break from the heat. At night, the bar is transformed into a nightclub where locals and visitors mix and mingle. I’ve been here as a child, a teen, and an adult. Each experience is unique, and every visit is memorable.

Auggie knows me so well, he reads my mind. “Sure, great idea, girl! Want to fill out any applications while we’re there? You know, I helped the manager buy a house right on the ocean a few months ago. He got it for a steal. He owes me. Time to call in a favor.” Auggie is one of the youngest and most prolific real estate agents in Ocean County. Apparently, the Jersey Shore is ripe for anyone who is looking for beachfront property and has a penchant for flipping houses.

“I don’t’ know, Auggie. I’d rather just do this on my own. Do you really think it’s a good idea to start having my friends get my jobs for me?” I hate relying on other people or feeling indebted to them.

“Didn’t they teach you anything at that fancy school? It’s not what you know, it’s who you know, baby girl. Everyone knows that. Real estate is all about networking. Do you think it’s any different in bakeries and sweet shops? I know everybody and everybody knows me. Time you start using your resources, honey.”

“Can’t we just play it by ear and see how it goes? Maybe I won’t need anyone to call in any favors. Maybe they’ll take one look at my resume and beg me to start work immediately.” Auggie rolls his eyes. I hate when he does that. “What? It could happen!”

We get ready and head out. The boardwalk in March is unpredictable. Once Easter Sunday arrives, the boardwalk will be a madhouse. Parking will be a nightmare. But that’s not for a few more weeks. We should be able to park easily tonight.

The paid lots are only for Bennies (that’s what we call the people from Bayonne, Elizabeth, Newark and New York and areas around them – BENNY – who come down here on the weekends). Most of my friends have Bennies Go Home bumper stickers on their cars. I get where they are coming from. Bennies come down here and invade our peaceful town from Memorial Day to Labor Day, turning our backyard into their playground. The families that come down for a week or two are easy to spot. Some of them actually sport socks with their sandals and wear sneakers on the beach. But the young ones around my age are the worst. They tend to be rude. They cut in lines. They don’t know how to drive or navigate a circle, and they start fights. They are generally disrespectful to women and you can spot them a mile away. I may not like dealing with them, but their money is what keeps our local businesses in the black all year long. They spend money like it’s water and dominate all the beachfront bars and grills.

Most lots are free right now, but not all of them. We find a free parking lot near the boardwalk, park, and start walking. Auggie grabs my hand and leads me up the wooden steps from the parking lot to the boardwalk. I can’t wait to look around. There’s enough light that I can see the ocean. Parts of the boardwalk are in good shape. The original boardwalk was just over a mile long from end to end with most of the attractions clustered in the middle. I can’t tell how far the boardwalk goes now, but I can see it’s not as long as it used to be. At least Wilkinson’s is open again. I’m really starting to get hungry.

I order a turkey burger with fries. Auggie orders something from the sushi bar. While enjoying dinner, I can’t help but enjoy the view. The windows overlook the ocean and it’s so calming. I miss the mountains of Colorado, but nothing comes even close to the majesty of the ocean. It’s my home.

After dinner, we head to the bar. There’s a DJ and he’s pretty good. Auggie and I kick back a Corona, and then we head to the dance floor. A few Nicki Minaj and Britney Spears dance mixes later, and I’m ready for another drink. It’s my turn to buy, so I head to the bar. There’s over twenty people at the bar, but only two bartenders. I check my phone while I wait for the bartender to notice me. Nothing new or exciting on Facebook.

“Hey, do I know you? Didn’t we go to school together? Manasquan High School?” Standing next to me is a group of guys who look like they all stepped off the pages of a surfer magazine. The tall, blonde and tanned guy thinks he knows me. It’s only March – how is he so tan?

“No, sorry – Point Borough High School.” I tap my fingers on the bar and wave my cash trying desperately to get the bartender’s attention.

“Were you on the swim team? Maybe that’s where I know you from,” he continues. He’s obviously not getting the hint.

“Sorry, soccer and track. Not much of a competitive swimmer.” I turn and look at Auggie and roll my eyes. I do not pick up men at a bar. Ever. One-night stands are not my thing, and by the looks of this guy, he’s just trying to hook up.

Thankfully, a bartender makes his way to me. “What can I get you tonight?”

“Two Coronas, please”

“Sure, I just need to check your ID first.”

I quickly grab my ID and hand it to the bartender. I’m used to getting asked for my ID. Even though I’m 23 years old, I have one of those faces that make me look younger than my actual age. The bartender confirms my age, returns my driver’s license, and hands me two beers. I pay and leave a decent tip. Maybe he’ll remember me next time and I won’t have to take out my ID all night long.

“Enjoy your beer,” tan surfer dude offers. I nod my head without responding. He’s scanning around the room looking for his next target. My instincts were right again.

As quickly as possible, I make my way back to the table where Auggie is texting again. He’s always networking. I can’t complain. That’s what makes him good at his job. He’s got lost time to make up for, and he’s probably trying to land another client. I take out my phone and check my Twitter feed when he notices I’ve returned. “Hey, girl! Who was that hot blonde?” he quizzes me as he gulps his cold beer.

“No idea. Didn’t stay around long enough to ask.”

“Jette, he was definitely into you. Why didn’t you let him take you home and see if he has any tan lines?”

“Auggie, let it go. That was never going to happen and you know it. Look – he’s already moved onto that beautiful redhead with the big boobs.”

“Are you kidding? Those fake melons have nothing on you. If you would let me, I could show you how to properly display your assets, too. It’s all in the presentation, you know!” Auggie is always trying to give me a makeover.

“Next topic, please.” This discussion will have to wait for another time, or, better yet, he’ll drop it completely and never bring it up again. Yeah, right.

“Okay, new subject. You have a job interview in five minutes. Go to the bathroom and freshen up. One of the managers is on his way.” I can feel the blood rushing up to my face. I must be fifteen shades of red right now. Once my nerves get the best of me, there’s no hiding my anxiety.

“August, no – you’re kidding, right?” I try to slow my breathing and my heart rate while I take a big gulp of beer.

“Nope. I just got done texting my contact. Jack DaSilva is on his way. He’s the general manager here and he’s the one I hooked up with that beach house. It’s called networking.” He takes my hand, squeezes it, and it has an immediate calming effect. “Look, I know how you over analyze things. I figured this way you wouldn’t have time to stress.” He does know me well.

“Can you text him and make up some excuse why I can’t meet with him now? Tell him something believable – tell him I found a kitten and I have to find its owner – tell him I broke the heel off my new shoes and have to go home to change – tell him anything! Please.” I beg. I’m starting to panic again.

His phone beeps, he has a new message. He reads it and tells me it’s too late. Jack is on his way and I need to go freshen up – pronto!

Jack turns out to be a very down-to-earth well-dressed middle-aged balding man with a sharp tongue and a quick wit. I like him immediately. He asks me a few questions, and I answer them all without missing a beat. We talk about the chocolates classes I completed, my internship in Denver, as well as my degrees and certifications.

“So, you mentioned holding a bartending license. I won’t have any jobs in the Sweet Shop until closer to Memorial Day, but if you’re willing to work at the bar, you can start immediately.” He can tell I’m not thrilled with the idea. “It pays a lot more than a baking position starts at. After tips, you’ll be making great money. Try it for a week, and see what you think.”

I run through all the checklists I already have in my head. I instantly had multitudes of reasons to turn the job down. But there was one glaring reason why I should accept – great money. I extend my hand to his and ask, “When do you want me to start?”

Date: 2015-02-28; view: 747