“What do you think? You just said you can recognize when I’m joking.”
“I think you’re serious.”
“Yes.” She laughed a little. “I guess I’m just easy to read.”
“No. But you’re interesting to read.”
“Goodness.” Her heart warmed and her pulse skipped into a higher gear. “Speaking as a bookworm, that feels like the ultimate compliment. Now make that call. You got this. Helene had better level up if she wants to be worthy.”
Thirteen
As it happened, Helene was already in Lost Harbor for a meeting about the spruce bark beetle infestation. Ian invited her for dinner at the Nightly Catch, which Bethany had recommended.
And Chrissie was right. He was ready. Never before had he felt so relaxed during a date.
Was it because Helene was so perfect for him? Or was it thanks to Chrissie’s encouragement? He didn’t know and it didn’t really matter.
He and Helene talked easily over their plates of king crab. She was a ginger-haired, athletic woman with golden freckles scattered across her skin. He found her physically attractive, although he was mostly interested in how they clicked intellectually. He took care to ask her about her work, paying particular attention to the spruce bark beetle situation.
She responded happily to his efforts and most of the dinner consisted of her explanation of the long-term weather dynamics that were shifting the peninsula from predominantly spruce to mostly birch. He listened attentively, and poured her another glass of water when it seemed she’d talked her mouth dry.
The water trick definitely worked. He wasn’t sure how to prove that he could offer her emotional support too. The conversation never veered far from the subject of work.
As for Chrissie’s combo of “flirting/teasing,” it didn’t come into play during their date. The one time he tried a joke, it fell flat.
But that was fine. Chrissie’s emphasis on paying attention to your flirtee’s needs and “signs” was what did the trick.
After dinner, Helene asked him if he lived nearby.
“Within walking distance,” he told her. “Would you like to come over for coffee?”
“That sounds good, though I can’t stay long. I have to stay up and finish a presentation. I’ll need that coffee.”
He imagined a future with her would often involve late nights tending to work. The idea pleased him. They were so compatible in that respect.
“What’s the presentation about?”
She was still explaining it when they reached the street where his rented house was located. It was only eight-thirty, still early enough that pink light lingered in the sky. Something whizzed past them as they strolled down the sidewalk.
“What the—” Helene jumped and grabbed his arm.
Ian scowled at the figure just ahead of them. “Bo! Watch where you’re going!”
“Sorry, Uncle Ian!” Bo called. He flipped the skateboard with his foot and caught it under his arm, then trudged back toward them. His favorite black vampire cape flowed behind him.
“That’s your nephew? What’s on his head?” Helene whispered.
“It seems to be a Viking helmet,” Ian said with a slow laugh. Two ram’s horns reared into the air from the hammered metal of the helmet.
“Isn’t it the bomb dot com?” Bo skipped toward them. “I found it at the Salvation Army. Who would ever give something like this up?”
He grinned widely, revealing a fake gold tooth. “Thith too,” he lisped as he touched his tongue to it.
“You bought a fake tooth at Salvation Army?”
“Epic score.” Bo offered his hand to Helene, who still hadn’t said anything. Ian noticed he’d painted his fingernails purple. He remembered something Elinor had said about a “goth phase.”
“This is Helene,” Ian told Bo. “We just came from dinner.”
“I’m Bo, Ian’s nephew.”
“Nice to meet you,” she said faintly.
Ian noticed that she kept the handshake as brief as possible. The fake tooth must have put her off, or maybe it was the purple fingernails. Or the horned helmet, or…
Really, it could be so many things. But still, Bo was his nephew. She could at least try.
“So you like to skateboard?” Helene asked.
Good. She was trying.
“It’s my happy place.” Bo stretched his arms wide. “It helps me think. You know what I was just thinking about? Trippy as shit? Your heart, like, never stops. It just goes and goes and goes. That’s freaking phenomenal.”
“It does stop eventually,” Ian pointed out. “When you die.”
“Man, you are such a joy killer. Hey, I baked chocolate chip cookies today.”
“Bo has applied for a job as a baker,” Ian explained to Helene. “He’s been teaching himself how to bake by taking over the kitchen for the week.”
Ian didn’t eat many sweets, and he was particular about the cleanliness of his kitchen, so it was a lose-lose situation.
“I didn’t get the job, but I feel good about what I learned. Nothing is wasted, you know?”
Except a sack of flour and five pounds of sugar, Ian wanted to say, but didn’t. “Sorry about the job.”
“It’s okay. I’ll find something.”
One thing about Bo, he had endless optimism. He shone his smile back on Helene. “Want to come up and try my cookies? The last batch came out pretty good, especially if you like extra vanilla. Like a lot extra.”
“I don’t think so, thank you, though.” Helene looked at the high-tech watch she wore. “I should really get back to my hotel.”
“Oops, I get it, I better leave you two alone.” Bo hopped onto his skateboard and zipped down the sidewalk.
“Sorry about the interruption,” Ian began, but Helene shook her head.
“No no, it’s fine. I really should focus on my presentation.”
“I understand.” They shook hands—a little awkward—then she turned her cheek toward him for a kiss. He obliged; he felt nothing.
“We should do this again soon,” she said as she drew away.
“Yes. I’d like that.”
“I guess Bree really knows what she’s doing, doesn’t she?”
“It seems so.”
He offered to walk her back to her car, but she insisted she’d be fine on her own. Before she left, she told him, “You should have a talk with your nephew. He’ll never get a job if he keeps dressing like that. And those nails…” She shook her head. “You should talk to him.”
He watched her stride down the street with a mix of emotions. It had been such a good date, until the end. And her point about Bo wasn’t a bad one. But…but…
No need to feel deflated. It was just one date. The next one would be much better, surely.
Fourteen
Getting to the bottom of who’d cleaned up the Yatesville house was no easy matter. As much as Chrissie grilled Toni, she claimed to know nothing about it. Jessica, who would be the logical culprit due to her tenderhearted nature, denied any involvement.
It wasn’t until she went to visit Maya at the Lost Harbor Police Department that she learned the truth.
“Can I point out that I’m supposed to be doing the interrogating?” Maya complained, glaring across the police chief’s desk at her.
“But I have nothing to hide,” Chrissie said virtuously. Which wasn’t true at all, of course. “You know everything that goes on in this town. Come on, Maya. I just want to say thank you to whoever did it.”
“Fine. It was my father.”
Chrissie gaped at her. Harris Badger was a kindly retired Coast Guard officer and one of the most well-liked men in town. But she wasn’t aware of any connection between him and her Gramps. “Why?”
“You should ask him.” Maya checked her phone. “He’s usually wrapping up at stitch-and-bitch around now. Then he takes a walk around the lake to watch the ice skating.”
“It’s still frozen?”
“Hope so. If anyon
e falls in, call the dispatcher.”
Chrissie collected Shuri and found Harris Badger making his way around Trumpeter Lake. His short razor cut had more gray than when she’d left, and his deep brown face more wrinkles, but his smile was as welcoming as ever.
“Welcome back, Chrissie,” he said after they shared a hug. “Good to see you, kid. I’ve been praying for you and all your family. Ohlson was a good man.”
“Thank you. And thank you for what you did at the house. It meant so much to find it tidy like that. Maya told me that was your doing.”
“Just a little thing.” He bent down to give Shuri some petting. “I thought Ohlson would have liked that.”
“I know I did. I’m deeply grateful.”
Mr. Badger—she still thought of him that way—beckoned her to join him on his walk. For a moment they watched the skaters swooping across the ice like swallows in flight.
“I didn’t know that you were close to my grandfather,” she began.
“Oh, I wasn’t. No one was, far as I know. Never knew such an antisocial fellow, especially at the end.”
“Yes. That’s what I gather. So…” She didn’t quite know how to ask her question without sounding ungracious.
“So why did I clean up out there?” Harris gave a hearty laugh. “Spit it out, I don’t mind.”
“Okay. Yes, I’m curious. I thought maybe you were friends at the end.”
“No, no. He didn’t want friends. But I had a kindness for him in my heart. It was left from something that happened years ago, before you or Maya were born.”
“Really? I’d love to hear the story, if you don’t mind telling it.”
A boy glided past them, so close to the rushes on the edge of the pond that she worried he might trip on them. Alarmed by the close call, Shuri bumped against her leg.
“I never mind telling a good story,” Harris said. “When I first was stationed out here, things were a little different. More rough around the edges. My commanding officer tasked me with attending the town council meetings if there was something that might concern the Coast Guard. Whoo boy, did they get wild sometimes. People shouting at each other, fistfights.”
Chrissie laughed. “That does not surprise me. What kind of things did they fight about?”
“This particular fight started because people from one of the churches didn’t like the sign for one of the bars—the Redheaded Mermaid, it’s long gone now. They said it was indecent because she wasn’t wearing a top. On the other side, the fishermen loved the sign. Ohlson was there because he made that sign. Quite a woodworker, your granddad.”
“He was.” Her throat closed up for a second.
“Anyways, the church people and the fishermen were all yelling, fists were flying, things were getting out of hand, and then some fellow in the crowd, stands up and shouts, ‘but what are we gonna do about all the—N-words—in town?’ Except he said the whole word.”
Chrissie stopped and stared at him, speechless.
“I told you things were rough back then. Racist, too. The room went dead silent. Everyone stopped fighting. I was one of two Black people there. Neither of us made a move or knew what to say. Then this tall man with this long flowing beard kind of unfolded himself from the back wall and marched over to that man, hauled him out of the room. That was Ohlson. He had a presence about him. No one liked to cross him. I heard later that he and a few others told the dude to leave town and never come back. They did that sort of thing back then. Wild West style. The meeting finished up, nice and polite, and that was that.”
“Wow. I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry that even happened.”
Harris’ face creased in a smile. “Now, I don’t see it that way. For me, it was a pivot point. Everyone there stepped up to the edge of a real ugly abyss and didn’t like what they saw. So they stepped back—but only after Ohlson did what he did.”
“Did you ever talk to him about it?”
“Nah. It wasn’t about me. He was what you call a misanthrope. He didn’t like most people, and he especially didn’t like fools. But I always looked kindly on him after that. Vice-a-versa, I believe, since he allowed Maya to spend time at Yatesville with you. He didn’t let most people across his damn borders.” He chuckled. “He invited me out there once, when I bought an old skiff off him. That’s why I thought he wouldn’t mind if I cleaned up a little for you. A way to honor him, if you know what I mean.”
Chrissie was still absorbing that story, which she’d never heard before. “Thank you for sharing that with me. I wish he’d told me more about those old days. He was always so consumed with his projects.”
By now they’d circled the entire lake, and had returned to the strip of road where cars were parked. Shuri dashed toward Prince Valiant, slid on an icy patch and bumped her head against the driver’s side tire.
Chrissie sighed. “I should go. Thank you, Mr. Badger.”
“Drive safe. Reach out if you need anything. It’s a lonely place out there.”
Reaching out wasn’t something she did much anymore. But she didn’t want to disappoint him. “I will.”
Fifteen
Ian sent Helene an email thanking her for the evening. But he didn’t suggest another date. He told himself he should. Bree told him he should. And yet, he didn’t.
A few days afterwards, he got a call from Chrissie while he was at the hospital.
“What is it?” he asked gruffly, since he was in the midst of studying an MRI of a patient’s left hemisphere. Interruptions at work always threw him off.
“You know, if you don’t wish to be disturbed, you don’t have to answer the phone,” she said mildly, unfazed by his rudeness.
“Sorry. I’m just in the middle…” It occurred to him that she was right. “Good point. But now that I did answer, what’s going on?”
“I’ll spare you the flirting lesson that says you should sound just a little bit happier to hear from your flirtee.”
But what if your flirtee was too critical of your nephew and now you didn’t even want to call her?
“It seems I need more flirting lessons. So what’s up?”
“Is Bo still looking for a job?”
“Bo?” Ian said blankly. She had such a way of surprising him. Call it the Chrissie Effect. “No, I mean, yes, he’s still looking.”
“Oh good! I may have found one for him.”
“What kind of job?”
“A well-paying one. My old friend Tristan needs a deckhand. He could pull in some really good money. Fishing’s hard work, but Bo’s young and fit. He can handle it.”
Ian’s mind blanked for a moment, trying to imagine his freewheeling nephew on a fishing boat. And then there was everything Helene had pointed out about his clothes. “But he’s…a little flamboyant.”
Her laugh sparkled over the phone. “Have you seen this town? It’s wall-to-wall eccentrics around here. I should know, my grandfather was the O.G. eccentric. If Bo works hard, he’ll be fine. No one has time for trouble out on the water. Anyway, I gave him my number but I forgot to get his, so I’m calling you instead. Do you think he’d be interested?”
“I’d have to talk to my sister about it. I’m not sure she’d like the idea of him going to sea.”
“Fair enough. If she has questions, I can try to answer them. Better yet, why don’t you bring Bo to the Olde Salt tonight? Tristan will be there. He’s Toni’s brother. Full disclosure, he’s also an old boyfriend of mine. Bo can get the lowdown from him.”
“Bo’s still only nineteen. He can’t drink.”
“Toni’s very good about carding. She’s been known to ask crusty old ancient mariners for their IDs. Always gets a laugh. She serves club soda too. This isn’t about getting him drunk. It’s more of a job interview.”
“In a pub.”
“We are talking about fishermen,” she said dryly. “Although that is a bit of a stereotype. Tristan has an alcohol allergy. He drinks milkshakes instead of beer.”
“A bartender’
s brother has an alcohol allergy?” Ian touched his hand to his forehead, wondering why conversations with Chrissie always went in such unexpected and often confusing directions.
“Go figure, right? Anyway, if he’s interested, come by any time after nine or so.”
He didn’t mention that he had an early shift the next day, and aimed to be in bed by ten. Getting Bo a job would be worth skimping on sleep.
Spending more time with Chrissie might be worth it too. He’d been thinking about her a lot since that trip to Yatesville. He found her company…fascinating. He couldn’t put his finger on it. Was it her quick sense of humor? Her unique childhood? The vulnerability peeking through her fast-talking facade? Or the luminous smile that made his pulse quicken whenever she flashed it?
His pulse hadn’t done much on that date with Helene. That was fine; she was more restful. A relationship with her would suit his desire for an orderly existence. No mess, no chaos—but just a hint of judgmentalism. He could live with that, right? Who needed their pulse disrupted, anyway?
Whatever was going on with Chrissie, obviously it was just an unfortunate side effect that came with the flirting lessons. He couldn’t spend time with a woman as attractive as Chrissie without noticing and responding. He was a heterosexual man, after all. Anyone else would experience the same thing. It meant nothing beyond simple biochemistry.
He finished his analysis of the MRI scan and instructed the nurse to make an appointment with the patient, a sixty-five-year-old man who’d been experiencing spells of dizziness and tingling in his extremities. Something Chrissie had said at Yatesville had stuck in his brain. Arsenic in the groundwater. He wanted to test a few of his patients and see if they were suffering from longstanding arsenic toxicity.
He drove back to the house, wondering what craziness might greet him. Once he’d come home and found Bo sledding down the steep icy driveway on a Frisbee that he’d coated with candle wax.
The kid had a daredevil streak a mile wide. Ian had no idea how he’d survived to the age of nineteen.
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