Beware the Mermaids
Page 28
Lois had the champagne at the ready, and while Nancy, Charlotte, and Judy brought in the spinnaker, they heard the pop of the cork as she poured a glass for each of them. Even Charlotte was allowed a small sip with which to toast.
A sizable crowd had gathered at the shore, applauding the brilliant and brave moves the Gypsea had taken to win—a first-time entry and a first-time winner. Nancy drank it all in and tried like hell to hang on to the moment. Lois was waving to Chris, who was holding red roses for her on the shore. Nancy saw Stella and Sam there too, holding hands and smiling. And someone else … Santiago was there, his penetrating sea-green eyes twinkling, his smile broad and warm, his chest puffed out with pride as he tipped his hat to her.
Next to him she saw Ruthie, carrying Otis, and standing next to her was Peter Ellis, who was holding Suzanne the Cat. Ruthie saluted her and blew her a kiss, and Nancy began to cry.
* * *
A few hours later, Nancy and her crew were about to accept the Border Dash trophy cup for their win when Faye Woodhall approached Nancy in the bathroom. What was it with her and bathrooms?
“Nancy, I’m proud of you. It’s a rare thing for a woman to be able to stake her claim and retake herself the way you have. You remind me of myself decades ago.”
Nancy took that as a compliment. She knew Faye hadn’t had the easiest life after the fiasco with her jailed Ponzi-scheme-running father. She was proof that all the money in the world couldn’t make you happy. “Thank you, Faye.”
“You know, I also heard a rumor that the BURP project had the votes to go through. Is that true?”
Nancy sighed heavily. That thought brought her temporary joy crashing down into reality. “Yes, so it seems. Looks like our marina will be gone soon.”
“Not necessarily.”
Nancy turned to look her squarely in the face.
“It looks like they will be just shy of votes in favor,” Faye said coolly.
“Really? I thought it was a lock. With Glenda Hibbert voting yes, she was the swing vote. They have their five.”
“There’s Calvin Eldridge.”
“The Reagan Republican? I’m pretty sure he’s leaning toward a stern yes vote, him being notably pro-business.”
“Yes, well, Calvin Eldridge is my lover,” Faye said matter-of-factly.
Nancy was taken aback by her bald-faced honesty. Lover. Bold. She nodded her approval. Go Faye.
“You can count on a no vote from Calvin. He took another look at the plan and decided to nix it. I think we can rest assured that the future of our little marina is no longer in danger. Calvin will help put a more appropriate renovation plan in place of the BURP. After all, Old Tony’s Crow’s Nest is one of his favorite places in the world.”
“Great mai tais,” Nancy said as she nodded.
“And you get to keep the glass,” Faye added with a wink.
Nancy found herself wanting to hug Faye Woodhall, but instead she saluted her as they shared a mischievous smile of victory.
* * *
The crew of the Gypsea stood inside the ballroom of the Emerald Hotel and Marina, where they had accepted their trophy in front of a crowd of landlubbers and sailors alike. From the corner of the room, Nancy noticed Roger and Claire arguing in whispers until Roger finally threw up his hands in frustration, slammed down his empty drink glass, and stormed out. Claire followed him like a flustered chicken, arms waving, frantic in her attempts to smooth things over, just like Nancy had done so many times before for so many forgotten reasons.
Roger was Claire’s problem now.
Nancy held out a thin strand of hope that Roger would hand over the title of Bucephalus without an issue. But even if he didn’t, she had the entire marina, Pete Ellis, Shep, Turk, Mac and Tony, Captain Horny, the recently reinstated Chuck Roverson, and Redondo Beach law enforcement on her side.
The last strand of Nancy’s deep-rooted anxiety, her toxic copilot that had lurked by her side for so long, seemed silenced, its megaphone out of order. Her mind felt clear, bright, and calm.
On the far wall by the windows, Lois and Chris were trying to show Judy how easy it was to order new winch handles from an Amazon app on her phone. Judy, however, was unsure what kind of winch handle she wanted. There were so many choices.
Ruthie and Pete Ellis were sharing a bourbon as Nancy walked over. “Did you talk some sense into this old crone?” she asked Pete.
Ruthie hit Nancy on the shoulder. “Hey, I can come to my own senses.”
“Does this mean treatment is in order?” Nancy asked hopefully.
Pete Ellis piped up. “I told her I’d roofie her bourbon and take her to treatment unconscious if she didn’t agree.”
“Fine, but if I lose all my hair, you’re taking me wig shopping in West Hollywood to that fabulous drag queen place. I’m going full-on diva.”
“You’ve got a deal.” Nancy looked over and saw Santiago standing at the bar. He turned and walked toward her. “Um, excuse me,” she said quietly.
Ruthie gave Nancy a little shove in Santiago’s direction.
Her man of mystery removed his navy tam, a first, and came alongside her. A jolt of electricity shot through her when their eyes met. “Looks like the caterpillar became a butterfly after all,” he said softly.
Nancy blushed and felt her eyes brighten. “Thank you for helping me. Part of this belongs to you.”
“On the contrary, Nancy, this is all you.” His eyes sparkled. He reached for her hand. She gave it. They stayed there for a moment, silent, saying things only the heart could hear. “Perhaps we can have a nightcap on Gypsea when this ceremony is over? I brought some rum,” he said.
“A pirate never says no to rum.” Nancy smiled. She let herself imagine more than rum in their future. Like more easy conversations. More kisses under the stars. More of whatever made her feel this excited, this at peace, this alive.
The chairman of the Border Dash race had asked Nancy, the captain of the only all-female crew in this year’s race, to say a few words. She obliged and stepped up to the microphone.
“When I started this race, it was for all the wrong reasons. Life’s funny that way. It’s good at curve balls. But that’s the point, I think. Nothing is guaranteed. Makes the time we have much more precious. I haven’t always believed that the good guys win, that the poem always rhymes, that things always work out in the end. But what I have learned is that fear can defeat you, if you let it. It is so easy to do nothing. It costs nothing to stay the same. But where’s the fun in that? If you take just one step in a different direction—lean into the shift in the breeze, take one tack at the right time—you can give yourself new ending.”
Nancy caught Ruthie’s broad smile. She finally added, “Thank you to everyone, especially my crew and to the youngest, bravest Mermaid of them all, my granddaughter Charlotte, who has taught me that happiness and courage go hand in hand. Fair warning … the Mermaids will be back next year.”
Charlotte, who was standing next to Nancy, took her hand and held it up like she had just won a prize fight, and in a sense, she had. The room erupted in applause. The girls toasted to their win, and then a balmy, familiar breeze whipped around Nancy once, punctuating her moment with a private whirlwind that calmed as quickly as it started. A last kiss from the Yamagaia.
When it passed, the women held hands, beaming as they looked out over the crowd. Nancy had won in more ways than one.
She was her own victory.
RECIPE
SALTY MERMAID MARGARITAS
Ingredients
2 ½ oz Reposado Tequila (the good shit)
Squeeze ½ fresh orange
Squeeze ½ Meyer lemon
Squeeze ½ Lime
2 oz Guava juice
1 teaspoon Agave nectar
Shake well and pour over ice into glass rimmed with sea salt.
Plot your next move. Celebrate friendship. Love the moment.
AUTHOR BIOGRAPHY
Carrie Talick originally cut her teet
h as a writer at the age of seven on sarcastic, witty postcards to her dad and then became an award-winning copywriter who wrote the script for the 2019 Super Bowl spot “Elevator” starring Jason Bateman as a friendly docent to Hell.
When she’s not writing, she’s working on perfecting a Bolognese sauce, rocking the lower third of her Peloton leaderboard, driving her teen daughter to the beach, sailing the Pacific, and listening to Bill Evanson vinyl with her audiophile husband. She currently lives in a coastal community in California. This is her first novel.
This is a work of fiction. All of the names, characters, organizations, places and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real or actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2021 by Carrie Talick
All rights reserved.
Published in the United States by Alcove Press, an imprint of The Quick Brown Fox & Company LLC.
Alcove Press and its logo are trademarks of The Quick Brown Fox & Company LLC.
Library of Congress Catalog-in-Publication data available upon request.
ISBN (hardcover): 978-1-64385-824-1
ISBN (ebook): 978-1-64385-825-8
Cover design by Lynn Andreozzi
Printed in the United States.
www.alcovepress.com
Alcove Press
34 West 27th St., 10th Floor
New York, NY 10001
First Edition: August 2021
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