by CF Frizzell
Ellis responded without looking back. “Hank, don’t be rude.”
“You a tourist, young lady? Or are you gonna be around a while, so’s that slacker can talk with you later?”
Maggie grinned up at him. “Not a tourist, Mr. Tennon, no. The new B&B just up town, I’m—”
“Eh! Another tourist trap.” He tossed his hands at her and shuffled back to his work. “Just what we need around here.”
“Don’t mind him,” Ellis said and slid her hands into her pockets. “My, ah, my weeknights are booked because I’m scheduled for late runs next week.”
“Oh. Of course. I forgot about the Eagle’s schedule.”
“Saturday night okay?”
Maggie hid the unexpected surge of pleasure. “Sure, that would be fine. Is there a local place you recommend? I’m afraid I haven’t had much time to explore the island.”
“The Brotherhood is great.” Ellis pointed beyond Maggie. “The Brotherhood of Thieves. Just a few blocks from here.”
“Sounds perfect. Meet you at seven?”
Ellis nodded as she stroked Retta’s back. “Seven’s good.”
“Look, I won’t keep you any longer. He needs you.”
Ellis set a hand on the edge of the boat, about to climb aboard. “See you Saturday.”
“Definitely.” Leading Retta away, Maggie could feel Ellis still watching but didn’t expect her to speak again.
“Glad you two stopped by.”
She looked back briefly and waved. “So are we.”
Maggie noted the slight, possibly sad curl of her lips before turning away, and pondered the reasons for it. Are you content, living the dream, independent and free? Maybe it’s not a dream life after all.
Chapter Seven
Maggie stared into her third martini Wednesday night and saw the hands of her business plan clock spinning past her deadline. Another idiotic promotion scheme like this, and time would tick away with her career. She’d hoped to send her prospective buyer an upward-running spreadsheet of success by now. The illustrious Jill McGee and her Cavanaugh Resorts will have to wait a bit longer.
She labored to pay polite attention to the woman beside her at Nix’s bar but instead found herself escaping to the serenity of her backyard lounge chair, the distant foghorn and occasional church bells, the blanket of stars overhead. This, her latest brainstorm, had flat-out backfired, and here she sat with an all-too-eager Jan Medeiros, who had some completely different business in mind. When it came to exchanging discounted accommodations for fresh seafood, neither she nor Jan could maintain interest. In fact, Maggie ranked the proposal of having Jan luxuriating at Tuck’r in return for guests’ shrimp cocktails as her worst idea to date.
Jesus, I’m getting desperate.
Her watch said ten o’clock was time to go, time to send Laura home, time to talk her way out of Jan’s offer of dinner and dancing at the RC Friday night.
“Sounds like fun, but it’s difficult for me to get out, Jan.”
“No chance over the weekend? It’s the Fourth, you know. We could…”
She rambled on as Maggie’s thoughts turned to meeting Ellis on the night of July Fourth. How easily I forgot it was the holiday. She must have, too.
Jan inched toward the edge of her seat. “Maybe midweek would be less hectic for you?”
“I’m afraid I never know in advance.”
“Come on, Maggie. I’d really like to see you.” She lowered her hand to Maggie’s knee and squeezed. “I think we kind of click together, don’t you? Look, let me get us another round and we’ll figure something out, okay?” She rubbed her palm over Maggie’s kneecap. “There’s got to be some time we can…you know…”
Maggie turned on her stool, just enough to slip out from beneath Jan’s grip. “I appreciate that, but Tuck’r Inn requires my every waking moment these days. I’m sorry, but I hope you understand.”
Nodding into her glass, Jan withdrew her hand and hailed the bartender.
Maggie shook her head at him. “I really should run.” She tapped Jan’s forearm. “Thank you for this tonight, for meeting with me and hearing me out.”
“Hey, my pleasure, but remember what I said, okay?”
“I definitely will.” She stood and took her purse off the bar. Won’t forget this awkward scene for quite a while.
“Wait, let me walk you home.”
“Oh, that’s not necessary.” She nodded toward Jan’s fourth cocktail. “Enjoy the rest of your evening and your drink. I don’t mind—”
“No way.” Jan guzzled more than half her drink as she slid off her stool. “Not letting you go it alone.” She walked Maggie to the door, and once outside, took Maggie’s arm and hooked it around hers. “How could I ever let a knockout like you walk home unescorted and still hope to improve my chances?” She drew her arm closer and Maggie stifled a frustrated sigh.
Unusually humid and thick with the flavor of low tide, the night air settled heavily on her skin, tempting Maggie to swipe it away, off her cheeks and arms like an unwanted blanket. The arm linked with hers was uncomfortably warm and tacky, and she longed to rid herself of it, too. She longed to be standing at the harbor, beneath that immense display of stars as onshore breezes soothed her mind. Nearing the corner of South Water Street, Maggie briefly closed her eyes to the image, and to her surprise, the shadowy form of Ellis Chilton took shape.
*****
“There won’t be a crowd of us, El. I know you don’t care for that. Just five of us. Come on. I’m doing my awesome ribs on the smoker, and I know you love them. You can catch the last boat home easily.” Jeannie finally took a breath to sip her coffee.
“Thanks for the invite, but I can’t.”
“You can’t? What’s up?”
Both donning sunglasses, they walked out of the Hyannis terminal and into the brilliant morning. The Eagle sat ready for its next run, and Ellis was pleased the trip looked to be smooth. She’d much rather think about today’s steady warm breeze and calm sea than discuss her personal life.
“So how come you can’t?” Jeannie smirked over the rim of her cup. “Tell me it’s a hot date.”
“Well, yeah. I’m meeting someone.”
“Do I know her?”
“Not really.” Ellis dropped her empty cup into the trash bin, not surprised that Jeannie took the few steps with her.
“Ellis.” She tugged off her sunglasses. “Do I or don’t I?”
“Well, you’ve seen her. Remember the woman with the luggage in the doorway at Dell’s?” Jeannie’s blank look said she didn’t. “The one I held the door for?”
Jeannie narrowed her eyes, only to pop them wide open. “Oh, no way!”
“Yes, way.”
“I remember her now. Nice work, El. Very attractive lady.”
Ellis shrugged. “We just keep bumping into each other and figured sitting down for a drink would be nice. She works at some B&B, a manager, I guess.”
“Well, it would be sweet if something came of it, don’t you think? You’ve gotta be open to that. You’re long overdue, my friend. And you deserve someone nice in your life—besides me, of course.”
“Thanks, but I finally have things just how I like them. I’m in no rush to mess things up.”
“What a crock. Listen to you, ‘mess things up.’ You can’t take that attitude into your first date, for Christ’s sake. Shake that off. Enough time’s passed. Get your ass in gear.” She dashed to the trash with her empty cup, continuing her spiel. “Now, look. I know nothing about her, but she somehow got you to come up for air—and that’s a freakin’ miracle, so there’s definitely something special about her.”
“Who knows? Maybe. She’s got a great dog. I like what that says about her.” Ellis headed for the gangway and noted the usual shift among waiting passengers to formalize their line. Another seaman awaited her signal to remove the rope barricade.
“Oh, right, El. It’s all about the dog,” Jeannie said, still tagging along. “I get it. Sure.”
“Just drinks. No marriage proposal.”
“To hell with that,” Jeannie said and stepped closer to whisper. “You just—”
“You need to keep your one-track mind to yourself. Go, get to work. I’ll see you in a few hours.”
Ellis nodded to the sailor and they began boarding passengers. She greeted them with smiles and one-liners about the perfect weather while he tore off ticket stubs. She kept count with the clicker in her hand, but the repetitive sound faded as her thoughts wandered to Maggie Jordan and what it was about her, exactly, that made their upcoming date so…unnerving?
With the last vehicle in place on the cargo deck and the Eagle under way, her first stop on the way to the bridge was the snack bar, for coffee for herself and Benny, the ship’s master. A glance at the bustling lounge and its full complement of passengers in booths and chairs had her picturing Maggie again, as she’d only half noticed many times before.
But now she had her clearly in mind, and the image was engaging.
“Enough time has passed.” Jeannie’s coaching echoed in her head. Time had indeed passed and days were good now, reliable, comfortable, safe…predictable and boring.
She imagined phone calls between them, dinners, dancing, intimate evenings on the Rose, the roiling nervousness of a new relationship. A relationship, period. Shit, Jeannie. You’ve got me blowing this all out of proportion. I’m not looking for a relationship. Probably couldn’t handle one correctly if it hit me in the face.
She studied the black liquid in her cup, practically motionless as the Eagle glided out of the glassy harbor. Gone were the days her hands shook at the helm, when guilt weighed so heavily upon her she thought she’d never smile again. Time had passed and brought relief, restored a bit of the zest for life she used to possess, but she just couldn’t be sure she had enough yet to share with anyone special.
Climbing the steps to the bridge, she counted the years since Nicki left and scolded herself for having remained in such an emotional hole. Eleven years. At least it all brought me here. She stood at the rail, four decks high, and scanned the ship below, the passengers enjoying the summer sun, the arms of Hyannis Harbor gradually releasing them to the Sound, and admitted she’d come to love the job that had, in effect, saved her from herself.
After all this time, I should have my act together. The half dozen or so dates in past years mean I’m definitely rusty, though. Who knows what real dating is like anymore?
She shook her head at herself and took a drink. “It’s okay to be anxious,” she muttered into the wind and entered the wheelhouse. But if her type is somebody with smooth moves, we’re definitely not on the same page.
With a plump face to match his short body, Benny turned from the helm and eyed the cups of coffee in her hands. He spoke too loudly, as always.
“Been waiting for that. You go pick the beans yourself?”
“Morning to you too, grumpy old man.” She handed him his cup. “Turn those hearing aids up.” She pointed at her ear. “I don’t feel like yelling for the next two hours.”
He took a long drink before setting the cup down and adjusted his hearing aids. “Pretty morning we have, Ellis. Good weather ahead for the Fourth, too. You taking the Rose out for the fireworks?”
“Hadn’t figured on it,” she said and checked the dashboard gauges over his shoulder. Benny had been mastering ships for so long, he took things for granted. She didn’t. Reassured that everything was shipshape, she fell into his conversation. The Fourth is Saturday. Date night.
A new wave of anxiety rolled through her when she realized Maggie was her first thought. She might like that.
“Well, why the hell not?” Benny continued. “You can’t keep that tub of yours tied up all the time, girl. She’s built to go, not sit ’n rot. You know better.”
“I do. We went out last weekend and I cranked it up for a couple hours. The Rose is as solid and fit as ever.”
Benny just nodded as he stared ahead. She knew he wrestled with adding a reference to pleasing her father, but she appreciated him not bringing it up.
“Y’take company out lately? You should be proud of all you’ve done to her. Show her off.”
“Thanks. I’m content just looking at it myself.”
“Well, that’s a load of bull crap.” He shook his head as he reached for his cup. “You’re alone too damn much. Go show her off. Make your daddy proud.”
There it was. She knew he’d bring up the subject sooner or later. Making her father proud could never happen. She’d done too much damage. All the work she’d put in converting the Rose simply demonstrated how she’d failed at their business, failed him, and she didn’t like being reminded.
“I just might take the Rose out Saturday.” That will shut him up.
“Got yourself a date to take along?”
Or so I thought. “We’ll see.”
Chapter Eight
“Well, I could have asked for a room this weekend, you know, but I was being the good little sister and not pressing for prime time.”
Maggie reclined in her chair, her cell set to speaker on her desk. Rachel always bubbled too much. And no, thank God, she hadn’t asked for a free room during the holiday weekend. Tuck’r had five rooms left, and Maggie still held out hope that she’d book them to paying guests in the next few days.
“I appreciate that, Rach. Sometime next week, then?”
“So Wednesday and Thursday are good? I wanted to see you, so I’m tagging along with John, my neighbor downstairs. His partner Ian has family on the island, out in Madaket, and I guess we’re all going to see his brother in the Theatre Workshop. Wednesday is opening night for Oklahoma!, and you’re coming with us.”
Leave it to Rachel to sweep in with big plans for everyone. “I have to pass. I have a ton of work to do before Thursday.”
“Really. Such as?”
“Rach. Not everyone lives off the grid like you do.”
“I’m a starving artiste, big sister.”
“And I have a prospectus to update for a buyer.”
“That slinky babe in six-inch heels you met last summer?”
“She’s a property acquisitions attorney out of Baltimore.”
“Uh-huh. The one with the superb tits who works for that resort outfit in Miami?”
Maggie sighed. “You’re bad. Yes. Jill McGee.”
“Whoa. So the shark is coming.”
“To check out Tuck’r, yes. Well, she indicated as much. It’s not definite yet. Either way, I have to have paperwork ready.”
“So I might get to see her in action?”
“Possibly. And that means I won’t have a lot of time to play with you. I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry, too. I miss you, big sister.”
“Same here, you pain in the butt. Come over early Wednesday so we’ll have some time to catch up.”
“You sound lonely. How are you staying sane out there in the middle of nowhere?”
“I’m too busy to be lonely.”
“No hunky butches on Nantucket?”
Maggie sat up. “Stop.”
Rachel chuckled. “No sweater-and-Docksider types taking you for rides in their Land Rovers?”
Maggie shook her head. “Knock it off. If you must know, I’m meeting a friend for drinks Saturday night. Satisfied?”
“Ah. Well, that’s something, at least. Is she a voluptuous sculptress, like moi? I know: she’s a Mass General surgeon on vacation.”
“Rach.”
“A poet. Nantucket’s a hotbed of poets and writers.”
“She’s an officer on the ferry.”
“Oooh. Make sure I get to meet her on Wednesday. Does she wear a uniform?”
“You’re impossible for a straight girl. Good-bye, little sister.”
Somewhere amidst her laughter, Rachel said good-bye, and Maggie shook her head in amusement. It’ll be good to have you here. And you don’t need to meet Ellis, couldn’t on Wednesday, anyway, unless you cross pa
ths on the steamship. But I think you’d like her.
She typed Rachel’s reservation into the system for two nights next week in the single room. She’d already tagged one of the two front suites for Jill McGee for Thursday and Friday, and the name and all it represented loomed large on the register. The Cavanaugh attorney hadn’t confirmed her reservation yet, and Maggie wasn’t sure she would, which, in turn, made her wonder how many inquiries, how much advance work the corporation was doing without her knowledge.
“God. I hope not.” She looked vacantly at Retta, who dozed peacefully on her bed in the corner. “The rumors that would start could make life miserable for us, cost us progress—and a lot more money before we see any profit.”
She leaned back in the chair and assessed her work of the past several weeks. All accounts were in order, nothing in arrears; all appliances and structural elements of the inn performed flawlessly; the guests’ up-to-the-minute calendar of island events—which she hated tending and usually dumped on Laura—now appeared on a flashy upgraded Tuck’r website as well as in the common room. The landscaping even dazzled, just as she dreamed, and the columns of early-bloom roses framing the front door had her ridiculously giddy with pride. She knocked on her desk three times for continued good luck.
“All I need is to fill in these damn blanks.” Her eyes flitted from one vacancy on the register to the next, and knew anyone, especially Jill with her calculating eye, could readily see that occupancy rates barely averaged 50 percent. “She has to appreciate a start-up coming this far so fast. Obviously, you don’t become established overnight.”
Jill McGee had been a whirlwind of corporate-speak and PowerPoint slides when they’d met in Maryland last summer. No stranger to red tape, Maggie nevertheless staggered a bit beneath Jill’s aggressive approach and would have walked out with her proposition if Jill hadn’t injected a dinner invitation and turned down the business heat. Ultimately, that evening proved beneficial, and Maggie saw serious interest from Cavanaugh Resorts, despite the awkward personal cat-and-mouse game she and Jill played to a stalemate. Maggie was still damn proud of her performance that night. She smiled at her laptop, remembering how she’d offered a good night handshake at her hotel door, how she’d read the unspoken touché on Jill’s lips.
