by CF Frizzell
“Hey. Calm down, fella.” She noted the animated expression, then the familiar leash. “Hi there.” She stopped several feet away and removed her cap. “Remember me? Are you…Retta?”
The dog’s dangling ears twitched. She rose on all fours, excited now, and barked again.
“You are Retta, aren’t you? Well, good to see you, girl.” She glanced at the store and remembered the hour. “Look, I’ve got to go, but maybe I’ll see you around, okay? Be good.”
Ellis had an image in mind as she stepped inside, several weeks old, but nonetheless vivid from when she’d been tackled aboard the Eagle. Retta’s owner was that lithe, auburn-haired beauty, with the energetic brown eyes and cute, turned-up nose, the broad, easy smile. They’d come face-to-face more than once.
Retta’s owner stood at the register with a wine bottle in one hand, the other raised haplessly at Jason, the young cashier. Ellis avoided eye contact with either of them and went promptly to the coolers at the rear of the store. From such a distance, she couldn’t catch their conversation but definitely understood the tone. And it wasn’t particularly pleasant.
A six-pack in each hand, Ellis debated whether she should approach the disagreement at the register. The arrival of a third wheel would probably embarrass all of them, so she returned to the coolers for orange juice and took her time selecting a sparkling wine. Mimosas in the morning.
A blonde carrying a fifth of Fireball Whiskey hurried to the register, and Ellis figured she’d stalled long enough. Something’s got to give now.
“Seriously, I’ll be here when you open tomorrow morning,” Retta’s owner pleaded.
“And I can’t do it. I told you, my boss would kill me.”
The blonde with the whiskey stepped closer and Retta’s owner blushed. “I’m sorry,” she told her. “I was just explaining to the cashier here that I ran out of the house, not thinking—”
The cashier scowled and turned to service the blonde. “I’ll ring that up for you. We’re about to close.”
Ellis looked away, not wanting to be caught watching and making things worse, but peripherally, she saw Retta’s owner put the bottle down.
“Sorry if I delayed your closing.” She spun on a heel and walked out.
Ellis set her beer, juice, and spumante on the counter as the blonde left, and picked up the abandoned bottle of merlot. She called to the blonde, who was almost out the door.
“Excuse me. That woman outside. The one with the dog. Tell her to wait, would you?” She turned back to the cashier. “Add this to my stuff, Jason.”
“Sure, if you want.” He shrugged. “Sorry, Ellis, but I couldn’t risk my job just ’cause she forgot her wallet.” He took her cash and handed back the change.
“She’s a good customer?”
“Well, yeah. She’s in here now and then, but still.”
“You’re in a tough spot, I get it, but things happen, y’know?” She picked up one six-pack, tucked the other under her arm, and gathered up her bag of juice and wine. “Thanks, Jason.”
Outside, she found both dog and owner waiting for her to emerge, looking just as attentive as Retta had looked at the bench. Lighting may suck, but the lady is just as striking as ever.
Retta barked and lurched up onto all fours, tail swinging low and steady, as if awaiting permission to greet her.
“Hi—oh. Hello,” her owner said, and Ellis caught recognition in her eyes. “Did you—I may have misunderstood, but…did you ask me to wait? Is there something you wanted?”
“Yeah. About that in there.” Ellis stacked the six-packs at her feet and pulled the previously abandoned wine from her bag. “I think you forgot this.”
Now she had the woman’s full attention.
“Oh, no. You didn’t!”
“Hey, it can happen to anybody. And if you’re here at this hour, it must be important.”
“I don’t believe it. I’m really embar—”
“Don’t be.”
“You’re kidding, right? No. I’m sorry, but I can’t accept it. I mean, you’re incredibly generous to do this, but—”
“Yeah, yeah. Here,” she said and extended the bottle closer to her. “Don’t let my money go to waste. I’m not going to drink this.”
“Why not? It’s very good. Honestly, I really can’t let you do this. I do appreciate the gesture, though.” Retta picked up her toy duck, dropped it on Ellis’s foot, and barked.
Ellis lowered the bottle, ready to walk away. It was late, she was tired, and she didn’t even know this woman. So much for good deeds. But words continued to come out of her mouth. “Retta says take it and be done with it.”
“You know, we’ve sort of met several times now, and all I’ve said is ‘I’m embarrassed’ or ‘thank you.’”
“Like I said, there’s no need to be embarrassed.”
“Well, when your dog knocks a ship’s officer onto her butt, I’d say it’s justified.”
Ellis shrugged. “Seems to me I do remember. The rainbow leash.”
“Rainbow, yes.” She offered her hand. “Could we start over? I’m Maggie Jordan.”
“Accept the wine and I’ll shake your hand, Maggie Jordan.”
“Not fair.” Her smile widened as she reached for the bottle. “Thank you very much.”
“Y’welcome.” Ellis slid her fingers around Maggie’s, so much smaller, more feminine than hers. “Ellis Chilton.”
Retta barked at their contact, snatched up the duck, and poked it into Ellis’s thigh.
“Retta! Be polite,” Maggie said. “I’m sorry she’s a nuisance.”
“Hi, pretty girl.” Ellis rubbed Retta’s ear. “You’re not a nuisance, are you?” Retta let the duck fall from her mouth to lick Ellis’s hand.
Maggie drew Retta back. “Boy, you’d think you’re a long-lost relative.”
“Let her loose. She won’t go far.”
“Ohhh no.” Maggie shook her head vehemently. “This one takes off like a rocket, as you well know.”
Ellis stroked Retta’s back with long firm motions. “You won’t stray, will you, Retta?” Ellis reached for the leash at Retta’s collar and noted the matching rainbow pattern of both. Is there a special woman in your life, Ms. Jordan? If she’s an islander, I probably know the lucky woman. She looked up. “Can I release her, just for a minute? All of downtown’s deserted. It’s safe.”
Maggie almost shook her head. Admittedly a bit captivated by this woman she’d finally met, she fought to remain focused on Retta. “Against my better judgment.” When Ellis unclipped the leash, Retta’s hopeful gaze turned excited and Maggie sighed at her. “She’s such a flirt.” She saw Ellis grin at the comment and appreciated the way she diligently supervised Retta’s romp along the sidewalk. “Do you have a dog?”
“No. We had a couple cats when I was kid, but never a dog.”
“That’s a shame. It’s pretty obvious you’re a dog person. I’d be lost without her.”
“My experience with Labs is only through friends, but I do know they’re ‘people dogs’ and very smart.”
“Too smart for their own good, sometimes,” Maggie added, enjoying Ellis’s attention to Retta. It said Ellis was compassionate and kind, the generous sort, and not only toward strangers who shopped for wine with no money. “So you live on Nantucket?”
“Down the waterfront a ways.” She turned at last. “And you? Every time I’ve seen you, you’ve been towing luggage.”
Maggie suddenly felt a bit like Retta, warmed by the attention, flattered that Ellis remembered their previous encounters. She remembered them, too, down to details like the strength in Ellis’s hand during that rough ride, the long, lean body sprawled out on the deck, the ocean-fresh scent of her in the doorway at Dell’s. And it certainly was a pleasure to have more than a passing moment to share, finally.
Caught assessing her thoughts, she scrambled to respond.
“Oh, I’m working here. My B&B is just beyond the center of town.” She spotted Retta wanderi
ng toward the far corner of the block and clapped urgently, beckoning her to no avail.
Ellis put two fingers to her front teeth and released an ear-piercing whistle that made Maggie cringe. “Retta! C’mere, pretty girl!”
Maggie shook her head as Retta raced to Ellis, who crouched and patted Retta’s hindquarters while being flogged by the whipping tail. “Atta girl, Retta. Great dog you have here, Maggie. How old is she?” Ellis scratched Retta’s back and the dog wiggled with pleasure.
“She’s three and can be a handful.”
“Aw, she’s just super smart. She really is beautiful, very fit, great coat—” Retta popped up just enough to lick her chin, then retrieved her toy duck and nudged it against Ellis’s hand.
“She likes you a lot.” Understandable, I think.
Ellis surprised Retta by grabbing the duck and throwing it down the street. Retta bolted after it.
“Bet she’s great company, though.”
Maggie couldn’t help but notice the hint of longing. She studied the distant look as Ellis watched Retta scoop up the duck like a ballplayer fielding a grounder.
“You know, she’d gladly keep you at this for hours,” Maggie said, “but we probably should head home.”
Ellis swung her backpack to her feet and began loading her bottles of wine and juice into it. “Time for this sailor to hit the sack.” Retta arrived and dropped the duck to investigate the backpack. “Gotta go, pretty girl.”
Maggie forced herself to stop assessing Ellis’s hands, the wide shoulders, and broad back. She tried to recall seeing her without the jacket aboard the Eagle, and the Retta incident came to mind, complete with the image of Ellis sprawled out in chinos and snug uniform polo shirt. How long that image had stayed in her head…
Ellis stroked Retta’s ear with an easy touch, and Maggie knew Ellis had to be enjoying that warm, luxurious velvet feel. Ellis stood and faced her. “At least we’ve finally said more than a few words to each other.”
“Oh, I agree.” She hoped she didn’t sound like she’d fallen out of some dream.
“Well, ah…” Ellis settled the pack onto her back. “Maybe we’ll bump into each other more often, since you’re working on-island now.”
Maggie tugged Retta closer. They had to start walking before those dreamy thoughts returned.
“I’m sure we will.” She caught herself watching Ellis run those long, weathered fingers through her hair and adjust her cap before crouching again to pick up her beer. She liked that Ellis offered Retta an affectionate head butt to say good-bye before standing and taking a step back.
“Hope you both enjoy your weekend.” The throaty tenor reminded Maggie of their few exchanges to date, simple words always delivered in a resonant, earthy tone.
“You, too,” Maggie said, “and thank you again for the wine.” Ellis waved as she turned away and Maggie couldn’t help herself. “Y’know, would you…ah…Well, would you like to meet for a drink sometime?”
Chapter Six
Maggie drank the remnants of her second cup of coffee and took a moment from the warm kitchen to clear her head on the back steps. She delighted Retta with a game of fetch as the sun emerged and her thoughts aligned. How lucky was she that a young woman like Laura could so ably step in and do practically everything right? That Bud was sending her favorite plumber over at eight thirty to solve this morning’s crisis with the clothes dryer? Or that, for a change, she had an option to relax a while with someone, do something that had absolutely nothing to do with business? She whipped the ball into the yard again. Without Retta, how conversational will you be, Ellis Chilton? Being the sole focus of Ellis’s concentration rattled her. So, since when did a date break my stride?
Maggie tossed the ball again, completely distracted by the idea of a date. Since her breakup last year, she’d had no interest in dating. Friends had dragged her through a couple of setups, but she’d put a stop to that. Business, honestly, had to come first, especially now. So hip-deep into my latest project, I flirt with some sailor? No, I wasn’t flirting, I was being friendly, cordial. There’s no harm in having a drink…with a nice, quiet, very good-looking friend. She sighed. This is all temporary, anyway.
A familiar white van crunched onto the driveway, and Cora Perez’s smiling face beamed at her from the open window. “Lady needs a plumber?”
“Thank God!” Maggie enjoyed the talented tradeswoman’s spirited personality as much as her outstanding work, and took comfort in having her expertise back at Tuck’r again. Plus, that eager smile against that dark complexion was certainly no hardship to see. “It’s been what? A whole two weeks or so?”
In jeans, work boots, and her company’s yellow T-shirt, Cora looked fit, bright, and extremely capable. She chuckled as she swaggered her small frame to the bottom porch step and looked up, hands on her hips. “So I hear you’re not as full of hot air as you want to be?”
“Very funny. I have a ton of wet linens waiting and you’re out here making jokes. Come on in. Coffee?”
Cora patted Retta as they followed Maggie inside. “I’d love some,” she said and went to the laundry room in the opposite corner. “I want to check the gas, though. You’re sure you haven’t smelled anything?”
“I’m sure. No one’s touched any valves or anything, and Laura and I both sniffed around till our sinuses hurt.”
Cora returned and leaned against the counter. “Everything looks good. I don’t think that’s your issue, but I’ll get my meter and make sure.”
Less than two feet away, Maggie could sense her confidence, even her concern, and the spicy scent of her skin had Maggie wanting to step closer. Jesus Christ. Suddenly I’m losing control? Get a grip, girl, and stay on course, for God’s sake. She handed her the cup, avoiding Cora’s suggestive ebony eyes.
“Everything else is going well,” she said and gestured to the kitchen in general, hoping to fill the awkward silence. “Knock on wood.” She knocked on the countertop.
“Excellent. Upstairs bathrooms, no leaks, slow drains, enough hot water?” Cora set down her cup.
“All good, thanks to you.”
“Perfect.” Cora nodded and turned to the mudroom door. “I’ll be right back with the meter.”
Maggie watched her stride out to the porch and shook her head. “Nothing like a woman at work.”
“And she’s really good at it, too.”
Maggie spun around to find Laura smirking. Caught in the act. She felt her cheeks flush. “Yeah, there is that.”
“Cora’s in demand all over the island, I hear,” Laura went on, and Maggie tried not to grin. I bet. “She’s come a long way, building her own business. It’s so good that Bud hired her to do Tuck’r Inn for you.”
“I’ll second that. How are things going out front?”
“Smooth as silk. Your banana bread is a smash. The couple from Plymouth, Diane and Brian, have asked for more.”
Maggie tugged a sheet of parchment paper from the dispenser and took another loaf off her bakery shelf. She sliced it as Cora disappeared into the laundry room.
“This is your most popular bread, Maggie,” Laura said, watching closely. “They’ll probably ask to buy some, so maybe you should make more.”
“Once the dryer nightmare is over.”
Retta ran up, offering her little stuffed duck. “Ew, Retta.” Laura laughed at Maggie’s grimace. “That’s a shabby mess. It’s going in the trash soon, young lady, before there’s stuffing all over the house.” Retta stomped, waiting for her to throw it. “It’s what you get for taking your toys on walks. Too many throws onto the bricks.”
“You two playing catch on the sidewalk?” Laura asked and wagged a finger side to side.
“Not me. Our new friend Ellis.” She tipped her head to Retta. “I think you two would’ve gone all night if I’d let you.”
“Ellis?”
Cora emerged from the laundry room. “Ellis Chilton?”
Maggie looked at each of them. “Yes, you two know her?”<
br />
“Of course,” Cora said, clipping her meter to the tool belt that now hung off her hips. “A native islander, grew up right here, and was always hanging around the docks. When I was little, she was one of the big kids.”
“Once, years ago,” Laura added, “we were family sailing a few miles out of the harbor, and Ellis and her father came by and rescued us. I can still see Ellis, jumping onto our boat to fix the jib.” She smiled dreamily. “I think I was about seven years old, and boy, was I star-struck. To me, she was a lady pirate.”
“That’s Ellis,” Cora snorted. “Nothing ever fazes her, least of all the ocean.”
Maggie couldn’t imagine growing up on Nantucket, being “on the water” from childhood. So that’s where the independent, solitary vibe comes from. Could I have managed it?
“Well, a love of the ocean is probably why she works on the ferry now,” she thought aloud.
“She ran freight with her father for years,” Cora said, “but after he died, the business just got away from her.” Maggie knew such losses had to have been deeply damaging.
“Yeah,” Laura said, about to leave for the common room, “her mother died when Ellis was little, and after he passed away, she had a rough time.”
The dryer chimed and Cora spun back to the laundry room. “You’re good to go,” she said and returned with a broad, satisfied smile that swept thoughts of Ellis from Maggie’s head. “A simple adjustment. You can run that monster as long as you want now.”
“Good. I’m so glad it was something small. Thank you, Cora.”
“No problem, no charge. Thank you for the coffee.” She downed the last mouthful and headed for the back door. “Feel free to call anytime. For anything.” She winked over her shoulder before leaving.
Maggie busied herself wiping her hands on a towel, glad when Laura left for the common room with the bread platter. But she’d barely dismissed the flirtation when Laura returned.
“Quite the charmer, isn’t she?”
Maggie tossed her a glance on route to the laundry room. “Quite.” She filled the dryer with the first load of wet sheets and ignored Laura leaning in the doorway, inspecting her manicure.
