Cap is standing in front of his cigar shop with Wyatt Bender and Buckhunter, all three men conversing in low tones. Their arms are folded as they discuss Ray’s fall at the meeting on Thursday, disbelief over the fact that he’s really gone forcing them to replay the events for clues of a disaster that they never saw coming.
“You say he wasn’t feeling well?” Cap lifts his chin at Buckhunter.
“Fiona had seen him a few days before because he was under the weather. That’s about all I know,” Buckhunter says, recounting what his girlfriend had shared with him.
“Damn.” Wyatt moves a toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other. “Just goes to show you never know what’s lurking around the corner.”
“There’s real truth in those words.” Cap reaches up and offers a broken cracker to Marco, who’s perched on his shoulder. Marco takes the chunk of saltine from Cap’s strong fingers, pulling it into his beak with a single bob of his colorful head.
“We need to do all we can to rally around Millie when she gets back,” Wyatt says. “I’m sure the women will coordinate meals, but the rest of us can step up and help her out, too.”
“I’m happy to mow her lawn and take care of anything she needs around the house,” Buckhunter says, holding up a hand. “I’m sure Jake can pitch in if I need any help there.”
“How about with anything else?” Wyatt looks back and forth between the two other men.
“Uhhhh,” Cap says. Buckhunter’s face tells them both that he’s drawing a blank as well.
“You talking about emotional stuff?” Buckhunter’s forehead creases. “Like, sit with her and help her call relatives?”
“Probably ought to let the women guide us on that,” Cap decides, holding up another piece of cracker for Marco.
“Yeah, good call.” Wyatt nods seriously. “I guess that means we just take their lead on pretty much everything when Millie gets back.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time we let the hens peck us in the right direction,” Cap says with a broad grin.
“And it won’t be the last,” Buckhunter agrees.
“You all!” Bonnie calls out from the sidewalk on the other side of Main Street. She’s standing outside the B&B, her fiery red hair flaming in the afternoon sunlight. “I heard from Holly!” Bonnie looks both ways before she crosses the street, her short, curvy body swaying in a walk that’s half strut and half scurry. “She’s alive and well,” Bonnie says as she approaches the knot of men. “But I didn’t have the heart to tell her what’s going on around here—at least not in an email.”
“Probably best,” Cap says, reaching out a hand and touching Bonnie’s upper arm. “How are you holding up, kid?”
Bonnie’s eyes fill with involuntary tears. “It’s hard,” she says, putting a hand beneath her nose and taking a moment. “It reminds me way too much of when I lost Ed.”
Wyatt springs into action, stepping up beside Bonnie and placing one of his palms on her back. “I’m so sorry, Bonnie,” he says quietly. “It ain’t easy, and you never quite get over it, do you?” His voice is soothing.
“I know you understand, Wyatt.” Bonnie locks eyes with him and they exchange silent sympathies. Annabelle Bender’s passing had been the catalyst for Wyatt’s decision to spend half the year on Christmas Key, and while he doesn’t speak of his wife often, everyone on the island knows that she was the love of his life. His fondness for Bonnie is also common knowledge, but even that flirtation pales in comparison to his love for Annabelle.
Cap clears his throat. “We were just talking about what we can do for Millie when she gets back.”
“We’ve got meals under control,” Bonnie says, wiping at the corner of her eye. “And we’re thinking about the logistics of a service in the chapel, if that’s what Millie wants. Otherwise we’ll help her make the arrangements and deal with relatives who want to visit and whatnot.”
“See? I knew the women would spearhead this effort,” Cap says as an aside to the other two men. “Okay, so just tell us what we need to do,” he tells Bonnie. “If the service is here, I’m happy to lead it. Buckhunter says he’ll help her out around the house. And the rest of us are on call for anything else you can think of.”
“Much appreciated,” Bonnie says, making grateful eye contact with each of them.
“When do Fiona and Millie get back?” Wyatt asks.
“I talked to Fee last night,” Buckhunter says. “She said they were due back around six this evening.”
Cap checks the watch face that’s attached to his thick wrist with a worn leather strap. “Bout four hours we got here,” he says, mentally calculating. “What should we do?”
Bonnie glances at her own watch. “Here’s what I think,” she says, tugging the hem of her shirt down over her round hips. “The thing I hated most when Ed passed was coming home to my house and finding his half-empty coffee cup from breakfast still in the sink. I hated seeing his toothbrush in a cup on the sink and having to decide what to do with it.” The emotion starts to well up in Bonnie again, threatening to spill out through her eyes. “And I couldn’t stand that my neighbors didn’t know. The man across the street came over that afternoon and wanted to talk to Ed about the hedge clippers he’d loaned him, and the first thing I did was fall to my knees at the mention of Ed’s name.”
“Well, we’ve got the neighbor thing covered,” Cap says gruffly. “Everyone here knows, and no one will be knocking on her door asking for Ray.”
Buckhunter puts a rough hand to his scalp and runs it over his hair. He’s gotten used to his gray-blonde buzz cut and is thinking of keeping it shorter now that the weather is heating up for summer. “I’m not sure that I’m up for moving a man’s toothbrush…”
“I’ve got that,” Bonnie assures them. “Calista has been spending the most time with Millie lately, so she and I are going to head over now and see if we can’t tidy up in the tiniest ways possible and at least move some of the most obvious reminders.”
“Good plan.” Wyatt gives Bonnie’s back a gentle pat, removing the hand that’s been resting there. “Call if you need anything, you hear?”
“Will do,” Bonnie says. She steps back into the street and crosses back to the B&B to get her golf cart from the lot.
There really isn’t much to say, so the men nod at one another gravely, silently acknowledging the subtle shift in their life on the island. They’ve lost one of their own—a man they all genuinely liked—and now they’ll have to do their best to help his widow pick up the pieces.
Coco picks up her iced tea from the bar at Jack Frosty’s, making her way to the seats that look out onto the street from inside her half-brother’s open air bar. She’s been privy to the comings and goings of the islanders all day as they prepare for Millie to arrive back on the island, but she hasn’t volunteered herself for any of the cooking or housekeeping duties.
She puts the straw between her lips and takes a long drink as she squints out at Main Street. Things are happening, and some of it is definitely to her advantage. Having a new teenager and two new women arrive at the same time certainly shakes up the island, and with each person who arrives on Christmas Key, the residents are going to be forced to admit that new blood and fresh ideas are the only ways to keep moving forward. At least she and Holly can agree on that vision for the island.
But more than that, Coco hopes this cluster of old-timers and recluses can see that taking a different tack will revitalize what she sees as a dilapidated amusement park for Baby Boomers. Her parents had bought this place with some grand vision of making it a retirement paradise full of walkers and non-stop bingo games, but their passing had left it in the semi-capable hands of her daughter, who—in Coco’s humble opinion—can’t see past the end of her own nose to get beyond the ticky-tacky weddings and B.S. treasure hunts she wants to put on for day trippers. There’s so much more that could be done with this place, and Coco fully intends to monetize and capitalize on its potential.
“More iced tea?�
�� Buckhunter asks, passing by with a sweaty pitcher that he holds aloft.
“Sure.” Coco slides the nearly empty glass across the slab of wood that serves as a counter, staring out at the hot street with a bored expression. “Hey, Leo,” she says. As usual, she’s refused to refer to half-brother by his last name, as all the other islanders do. Buckhunter cocks an inquisitive eyebrow. “We need to talk about the casino. You and me. Before Holly gets back.”
Buckhunter tips the pitcher over her glass and watches the amber liquid splash over her melting ice cubes. He gives a quiet chuff and finishes pouring. “About what?”
“Come on,” Coco says, slapping a palm against the wood. “You see the potential here, don’t you? I want to show you some numbers and figures that I got from Gator and the Killjoys. We’re talking serious money here.”
Buckhunter sets the pitcher down and pulls out the stool next to Coco’s. He sits next to her, facing the street and not looking her in the eye. “You know,” he says with a sigh. “I don’t think that matters much to anyone but you.”
“Being financially solvent doesn’t matter to you?” Coco rears back, staring at Buckhunter’s profile. “The man who left you and your mom to rot up in Savannah your whole life leaves you something that could change your destiny, and you just want to squat on it and serve margaritas to liver-spotted grandparents until you die?”
Buckhunter’s laugh is a loud, surprised bark. “You do have a way with words,” he says, shaking his head. The lines at the corner of his eyes deepen as he lets the vision that Coco’s painted form in his mind’s eye. “But your dad didn’t leave us to rot. We were happy, and he sent money. You know all that,” Buckhunter says dismissively. “Besides, I’ve got no hard feelings. It is what it is, and when he asked me to come down here a few years ago, he gave me a gift I didn’t even know I wanted. And I’m not talking about some stake in this place, I’m talking about a family. The people on this island are my family.”
It’s Coco’s turn to laugh in disbelief. “These people all have families, Leo,” she says meanly. “You’re just their bartender.”
Buckhunter pushes back his stool and stands up slowly, lifting the pitcher of tea off the counter. “My mom’s been gone for years, and being an uncle gave me a purpose again. Even when Holly didn’t know she needed me, I was there.” He looks down at his half-sister, his eyes searching hers. “And if you spent more time here you’d know that we are a family. Not just me and Holly, but all of us. And I’m not willing to sacrifice that for some casino.”
“Don’t think about the casino, think about the money,” she implores.
“I don’t want the gamblers, I don’t want the cheap laborers, I don’t want the slot machine coins and cigarette butts that will wash up on our shores. And Holly won’t either. Guaranteed.” Buckhunter pushes the stool under the rough wooden counter with his foot and walks away.
It’s just like everyone around her to be so short-sighted. Coco picks up her fresh glass of iced tea as she watches Calista Vance move around inside of Scissors & Ribbons across the street from Jack Frosty’s. A hot breeze blows off the street, cooling the sheen of sweat that feels ever-present to Coco.
She’s bored. Bored on this quiet island. Bored up in New Jersey, where she’s the trophy wife of a successful man who tolerates her demanding nature because all her hours at the gym keep her taut and youthful. Bored with her life. In her heart, Coco knows that this island could really be something, and having a project like a casino to build would fill her with a sense of purpose that she hasn’t had in years…or maybe ever.
She takes a long drink of her cold tea. Holly will be back in ten days. That means she has ten days to come up with a compelling reason to make this happen. Ten days to get this floating lump of sand and wrinkled flesh on board with her plan. Coco jabs her straw into the shards of ice still in the bottom of her glass, watching as people start to trickle down Main Street towards the dock. She leans forward and looks down the street: a boat is approaching in the distance. It has to be carrying Millie and Fiona, and it looks like everyone is rushing to meet them.
Step one of winning these people over is blending in and commiserating with them, and Coco has every intention of doing just that. She pulls a five dollar bill out of her wallet and tosses it on the counter to pay for her iced tea.
“See you later,” Coco says to Buckhunter as she breezes past his bar. “Millie’s back.” With no further explanation, she’s down the stairs and walking under the hot sun, following Bonnie and Iris Cafferkey as they make their way to the dock to offer their condolences.
She’ll just have to call Alan and let him know that she won’t be home for a couple more weeks. There’s still way too much work to be done here on Christmas Key.
21
Paris is basking in the glow of a warm, clear Sunday afternoon. The parks are filled with people eating baguettes slathered in butter and stuffed with ham and cheese, and the carousel near the Eiffel Tower spins merrily under a blue sky, children hanging from the horses and laughing happily as they rotate beneath one of the world’s most beloved monuments.
Holly and River stroll hand-in-hand around the Trocadéro, stepping over the mechanical toys for sale by street vendors, and ignoring their pleas in accented English to check out the tiny Eiffel Tower statues and wind-up dogs displayed on long sheets of fabric.
“You want a coffee?” River asks, tugging lightly at Holly’s left hand.
“I want to go to the top first.” Holly looks up at the majestic tower in the distance, turning her shoulder so that she won’t bump into a woman pushing a stroller. “I’m dying to see the city from nearly a thousand feet in the air.”
“Are you sure? We could get a snack first—our tickets are for two o’clock and it’s only one now,” River offers, leading her through the throngs of tourists wielding selfie sticks and fancy cameras.
“Let’s go down and see how long the wait is,” she says.
The line to get into the tower is long, but Holly isn’t unhappy as she waits. She watches the armed guards circulate around the base of France’s most popular tourist spot. A man in front of them is speaking rapid Italian to his four young children, offering cookies to the smallest one as they wait to be searched by security. Holly opens her backpack in preparation for the checkpoint; she’s already grown used to the necessary step of having a stranger paw through her belongings and look at her appraisingly before she boards a train or enters a building.
The ride to the top is fast, and even the jammed elevator doesn’t quell her enthusiasm.
“We’re going to see everything from up here,” she says in River’s ear. “The Arc de Triomphe, the Champs Elysées, Notre Dame.” Holly’s feeling rhapsodic at the classic view that awaits them, but she notices River’s hand tightening around her own as they ascend, and he’s staring at the floor like he needs to reassure himself that it’s still there. “You okay?”
River shakes his head, not looking up. “No. But I will be,” he says tersely.
“Wait, is this scaring you?” Holly can’t believe it. Mr. Adventure, Mr. Say Yes to Everything is actually looking pale and slightly clammy. “River, we’re fine,” she promises.
“I think we should go back down,” he says.
Holly laughs incredulously. “Are you kidding?” she asks, knowing that he’s not.
“No. This feels weird.”
“We don’t have to do this,” Holly says, pulling him out of the way of human traffic. “But I wish you would have told me before we came up that you didn’t want to.” They huddle next to the center of the structure and River places his back against the cool metal, watching anxiously as people scamper over to the railings to peer out at the City of Light.
“Can’t say no.” River sounds like he’s short of breath. “Gotta say yes to everything.”
“Look, we can go back down. It’s cool. I can say I’ve been up here,” Holly says gently, holding his hand again. People are walking by, shooting the
occasional glance at River. Holly watches the families in matching berets, the children wearing shorts and summer dresses as the mothers tiredly wave people into formation. They hold their cameras in place, no doubt trying to capture Facebook-worthy shots of their trip to Paris.
“No, let’s hurry up and see the city,” River says, looking less convinced than he sounds.
“But we’re at the top of the Eiffel Tower! I wish you weren’t in such a hurry to get back to the ground. It’s kind of a downer,” Holly says. “What feels weird about this? You went on that swing in Amsterdam like it was nothing.”
River inhales through his nose, holds it for a second, and then exhales. “I think it’s the security everywhere,” he says, nodding. “Yeah, it’s making me a little nervous. And the dudes with the machine guns on the ground just set me on edge.”
“So it’s not the height?” Holly takes his hand and starts walking towards the view of the city that’s spread out all around them in muted shades of beige and stone, punctuated by patches of green.
“No,” River says definitively. “I’m not afraid of heights.” The words are barely out of his mouth when a shove from behind sends him plowing into Holly, knocking them both to their knees. The people around them make startled noises, some giving sharp barks of pain as their bare skin hits the patterned metal floor.
“What—?” Holly raises her head, hands and knees still planted on the ground. Her backpack has slipped from her hands and River is crouched on top of it.
Two men in black pants and black t-shirts rush through the crowd of fallen, frightened people, shouting in an unfamiliar foreign language. The woman next to Holly whimpers to herself as one of the men steps on her fingers with a heavy black boot. There is a feeling of chaos and uncertainty as Holly peers up at the men and at the shocked faces of everyone around her.
A siren sounds from below, and a rush of uniformed guards spreads through the confused crowd, fanning out with their heavy artillery. River reaches over and puts an arm around Holly protectively.
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