by Rc Bonitz
"A cherry tart," the child said.
"And some OJ," Lissey pointed out.
The man nodded. "Okay, make that two on the tarts. You got any corn muffins?"
"American food, yes."
"I'll have one of those too."
She couldn't help herself, blurted out before she could stop. "Sweets? That's all you want?"
He gave her a very serious look. "We make eggs or steak or oatmeal every day on the boat. Today we're living it up."
"All right," she said and then added, "I'll need your credit card for the boat."
He drew out his wallet. "Cash okay?"
He didn't want to use a credit card? Everybody used plastic or tried to give her a personal check. Those were almost always rubber so she didn't accept them. Strangely though, few boaters ever paid cash. She stared at him for a second, then caught herself and nodded. "Two hundred and eighty U.S. dollars then."
"I signed up for a mooring. One week. We'll move the boat as soon as we finish breakfast."
She scanned the form. He was right of course. Bruce Duncan, his name jumped out at her. "All right, I'm sorry. Forty dollars even. Take one of the yellow moorings then."
He peeled off two twenties and passed them across the table.
"I'll get you a receipt."
"No need."
She waved the registration form in front of him. "My pen please?"
"Oh yeah, sorry, I forgot."
Lissey dropped the form beside the register and prepared to serve their breakfast.
"What's this?" her mother said as she waved goodbye to Louis.
"Transients. They came in last night."
Her mom glanced at the registration sheet then peered around the display case and checked out their breakfast customers. "Mmm, he's cute."
"Sort of, yeah," Lissey said. She headed for their table, plated tarts and muffin balanced in her hands.
Her mother stood there studying the form when she came back. "What's so interesting?" Lissey asked.
"He's American. From Boston."
"He doesn't sound like it," she muttered.
"It's just him and the little boy."
She glanced at the sheet. Number in party—he had written "2" in the allotted space.
"He's a girl," Lissey mumbled again.
Lavinia blinked. "The boy?"
She grinned. "Not the guy."
"Of course not. But the boy's a girl?"
"Apparently."
Lavinia stared at Emma for a moment, shook her head, then turned back to Lissey. "What's with his red hair? You can't tell me that's natural."
"I'm not."
"You know what I mean. It's certainly a dye job."
"Why don't you ask him?" Lissey said.
"What's eating you this morning? You're so grumpy."
"Nothing."
"Are you depressed? You've been withdrawn and quiet for weeks."
"I'm fine, Mom."
"Is it Caroline? Are you—"
"Mom! Leave it alone. Please."
"It's your father, isn't it? Him and his bridegroom candidates."
Lissey drew a deep breath. That was a safe topic for discussion at the moment, thank goodness. Far better than telling her mother she had ideas about leaving home. "Peter came in all primed and cheerful this morning. I'm surprised he didn't try to put a ring on my finger."
"Did you set him straight?"
"I tried. Again. The man doesn't listen."
"He is a nice man," Lavinia murmured.
"Don't you start. He has about as much sex appeal as a dead shark."
"There's more to life than that."
"With him there'd have to be."
Lavinia patted her arm. "I know dear. I'm sorry."
Lissey kissed her then caught the eye of Mr. Bruce Duncan over her shoulder. He sent her a very fine smile.
A spurt of heat rushed to her heart. She wanted to be mad at his nerve, but somehow that just didn't come off quite right. He definitely had the looks; about a thousand percent better than anybody on the island, dyed hair notwithstanding. Just because Peter made her angry she had no reason to be mad at Bruce. Well, he'd been a little surly down at the dock but that attitude had faded considerably.
Patti Mumford wandered through the green doors with her usual cheery, "Good morning," and that was great with Lissey. She'd had enough to do with men this morning.
Lissey's height, with bright blonde hair and a body to wish for, Patti made her jealous. Except, she hadn't found a good man among the island's heroes and visiting live-aboards yet either. She hadn't given up all hope though, and one glance at Bruce Duncan stopped her in her tracks.
"Hi," she said. "New to the island?"
Bruce grinned. "Just passing through. You are?"
"Patti Mumford."
He offered his hand. "Bruce Duncan. And this is my son, David."
Lissey's breath caught. Again, his son. David? What the devil was going on? She felt as if she had fallen down the rabbit hole.
Patti shook his hand, gave the child a smile without even blinking, and Lissey could have killed her. And herself. Why had she been so bitchy to the man? Then again, what was this business about his son? Something was rotten in Denmark. Not to mention she'd had her fill of live-aboards thanks to Ramon.
"Your usual this morning Patti?" Lavinia asked.
"Hi, Mama. I'll have tea I think. My stomach was a little fidgety last night. Too much party time, I guess."
"I'll get it," Lissey said, happy to escape the flirtation unfolding before her. Ever the optimist, Patti would give this guy a try. There was passing through, and passing through, when it came to island people; like a few days or twenty years. Patti's passing through had begun a dozen years ago and she showed no signs of leaving. She'd even taken to calling Lavinia "Mama" they'd known her so long. But, Lissey would bet the right guy could close up Mumford's Books and Souvenirs in a flash.
She poured the tea, grabbed a pumpkin roti, and turned back to the register.
"You own the bookshop then?" Bruce was saying.
"Books and souvenirs, Mumford's, that's me."
"What time do you open? David needs some new reading material."
Patti batted her eyes, Lissey could swear she did. "As soon as I have my tea."
Now there was a fiction bit if Lissey ever heard one. Patti normally sat around and gabbed for at least an hour and a half every morning. Not that Lissey minded. Normally. She was always full of island gossip, and Lissey enjoyed those early morning gab sessions. Patti had set her sails for Mr. Duncan though, that was very clear. Lissey's belly tightened at the thought. She couldn't be jealous? Could she? The man was weird with that ridiculous red hair, she had to remember that.
"Okay, that's great. We have shopping to do, so we'll stop by in a little while," Bruce said and wandered into the store part of the shop. Lissey sold a little bit of everything. Meals, baked goods, and convenience store fare, wine and beer, all of which she carried mostly for itinerant boaters.
Bruce's action left Patti looking a little non-plussed, but she picked up her tea and made the best of it, heading off to open her store. Lissey'd bet she would have preferred to spend the morning over tea and coffee with the man, but he really hadn't given her the choice.
Bruce and Emma cum David perused the aisles, picking up the occasional can of beans or pickles or whatever, checking prices, reading labels. Quite often it was Emma, er, David, who selected something and offered it to her father for review. Lissey couldn't distinguish what they were saying, but he seemed to consider the child's opinion seriously. He treated the little one with respect and great consideration. That warmed Lissey's heart. Caroline would have been a child like Emma.
"Can I help you find something?" she asked, surprising herself with the question. They obviously didn't need her, so why had she asked?
"Can we buy fresh vegetables somewhere on the island?" he asked.
"Ice cream too?" Emma said.
Her question made Lissey smile. Sh
e was a darling little girl and so smart. Darn it, why did he call her David? "I have ice cream here. Veggies you mostly have to get from Pineda's."
"Where's that?" Bruce asked.
"Pretty much the other end of the island. About six miles."
"That's the only other store?"
He wanted to shop somewhere else? Well phooey on him. But, she didn't need his business so what the heck. Oh yeah, who was she kidding. Every dime in the register counted. She forced a smile. "There's Morgan's. That's two miles down the road, but I have more produce than they do."
Bruce cocked an eyebrow. "What do you have?"
"Mostly fruits that I use in baking. I can get other things for you if you give me a day's notice."
"You sell to sailors, right?"
"Pretty much," she said.
"High prices then," he said with a frown.
Ah, that was his thing. "Lugging your groceries a couple of miles won't save you much."
He gave her an impish grin. Quite spectacular it was. "Any discount for bulk orders?"
"That depends on the size of the order," she said without hooking mouth to brain. Jeez, she never gave discounts. Her mother had been eavesdropping. Her jaw hit the floor with shock, but then she smiled and Lissey felt her cheeks flush. Oh Lord, she had to remember. Gas dock and no life jacket. Dyed red hair. Even worse, pretending his daughter was a boy. The man was weird. Don’t forget all that.
They bought some canned beans, bottles of red wine, and other assorted goods. Bruce paid cash again. She watched them amble back down the dock with the strangest sense of curiosity and a touch of pain in her belly. He was wonderful with that darling child, treating her with such patience and respect. Why did he dress her like a boy? Did he hate women?
Watching Emma skip along the dock beside him, raw memory seared her heart. Caroline, with that mop of blonde curly hair she'd been born with. Might it have stayed blonde as she grew up? Would Emma have curls when her hair grew out? Lissey could almost imagine a smile on Caroline's face, her daughter beaming just like Emma. And then she couldn't, a vision of her sweet babe's tiny lifeless body abruptly coming to the forefront of her mind. She shook it off before convulsive weeping seized her, but she couldn't quite push the images all the way back into the catacombs of her mind. Caroline would be about the same age as his darling Emma now if she had lived. Lissey choked back a sob.
They dropped off their groceries and came back again, Emma chattering away beside him. She looked so happy; Lissey couldn't take her eyes off them, off her actually.
This time they headed for Patti's shop. He'd said something about buying new books hadn't he?
Philomena Stratton came in and then Maria Sarano and soon she was busy enough to absorb her total concentration for a while. The day became routine, but around two that afternoon she noticed the Duncan boat out in the harbor, tied up to a mooring. Her father's mooring.
The man just couldn't help but be a pest apparently. Taking someone else's mooring showed a complete lack of everything good in a person. No sense of responsibility or caring for one's fellow man, arrogance beyond belief, and who knew what else. Suppose her father came in late tonight or the weather turned bad? Where was he to tie his boat? Mr. Duncan did not give a damn it seemed. The man just—just—infuriated her.
She left Lavinia in charge of the shop and hurried down to the docks. Louis's boat was tied at the foot of the gas dock. He wouldn't mind if she borrowed it for a few minutes, so she jumped in and started it, then tore out to the mooring to give the illustrious Mr. Duncan an earful.
The deck was clear when she reached them. "Ahoy, Fantasy," she shouted.
Bruce popped out of the hatch. "Hey, what's up?"
Wearing a broad smile, he seemed rather pleased to see her. She disabused him of any smart aleck ideas right quick. "This is a private mooring. I told you to use one of the yellow ones."
He shook his head. "I have the owner's permission. Sam Hartnet, sort of a chubby little guy about fifty-five? He's letting me use it for free."
Daddy. He probably took one look at Bruce and saw a future son-in-law. Oh crap.
"You can credit the money I paid you to my account for groceries and such. Is that okay with you?" Bruce said.
"Oh, yes, of course. I didn't know," she mumbled. Obviously, her father could do whatever he wanted with his mooring. He probably planned to park his boat in an empty slip for the duration. He played fast and loose around the docks sometimes. What the heck, he owned the bloody marina, but it would be nice if he worked with her occasionally.
Emma stepped on deck, once again without a life jacket.
Lissey stabbed a finger at her and opened her mouth to point out that little detail, but Bruce was way ahead of her.
"She's been below deck," he snapped.
"She's still supposed to wear her life jacket. I warned you."
He grunted. "So now you're going to write me a ticket?"
Heat rose to her face. She had nothing with her, not even a scrap of paper. "Not right now. I'll catch you when you come ashore next time."
"You do that," he said and disappeared below deck again. Emma grinned and followed him.
She turned Louis's boat around and headed back to the dock. What was wrong with her today? Somehow the man had her on the defensive. She was normally quite cheerful and easy going. Sure Peter and her pop had bothered her, but she was way overboard with Mr. Duncan. Maybe it was Emma. He didn't take care of the child like a father should. Was he blind to the dangers he was exposing her to? What if she hit her head and fell overboard? A shiver ran through her. Caroline
Half way to the dock, the motor coughed, then sputtered and died. She pressed the starter button and pressed again. It turned over but remained stubbornly inert. A check of the gas can told the story—empty. It was her own stupid fault; she'd been so incensed at Bruce she'd forgotten to check before she took off to pin his ears back. Now she had no motor and three hundred yards of open water between her and the dock.
Like most boat owners, Louis kept a paddle aboard for just such emergencies. She pulled it out and began to paddle. Paddle on the right, paddle on the left side, paddle on the right, paddle on the left, paddle... Great, pushing a twenty-two foot boat with a paddle, she was getting absolutely nowhere.
She heard her then, Emma, behind her. "Daddy, look. The lady's stuck."
Lissey turned and waved to let her know she was all right, which was total fiction of course. A light breeze and gentle tide were pushing her away from the dock despite her frantic efforts with the paddle.
"Start the motor, Emma," Bruce called out from across the water.
Oh no, he was going to rescue her. After she'd given him a hard time. Good grief,
She couldn't have that; she put her back into it again. Paddle, paddle, paddle, paddle, wheeze, paddle, wheeze. She stopped to get her breath and started again, drops of sweat now running down her nose and a few other places on her body too. The boat moved forward about a foot. Wonderful.
It was no use. She'd have to apologize and thank him. So humiliating. A giggle tickled at her throat, surprising her. He could have ignored her and let her drift out to sea. Of course, no self-respecting boater would abandon another mariner in trouble on the water but still, she had been rather mean to him.
His boat was under way now, Emma at the wheel while he hung fenders over the side. He'd let a five year old drive that big boat right at her? Oh great, she couldn't get out of the way.
He moved back to the cockpit, thank goodness. But he bent down to operate the motor controls. Emma stayed at the wheel.
She had to get out of the way. Paddle, paddle, paddle, no bloody use at all. Louis kept the damn paddle as a morale booster; it was useless as anything else. She dropped the stupid thing, grabbed a life jacket, struggled into it as fast as she could, then waited, strangely resigned, for the crash.
Bruce's boat slowed as it approached, but that child was still going too fast. The sailboat careened into the si
de of Louis's boat as Lissey grabbed for it, seeking something to hold on to, a cleat, a shroud, anything. She caught a stanchion as Fantasy slid past and got herself slammed against the side of Louis's boat for her trouble. Pain seared her left knee. She grunted. It was a good thing she'd put the life jacket on; the padding probably saved her ribs.
"Can you hold on while we tow you or should we tie a line?" Bruce asked calmly, finally taking control from Emma. The bloody man was oblivious.
"I can if you go slow," she gasped as the sailboat slowed. Water jockeys, this was like a demolition derby.
She had a mind to say so many things. Emma should not have been driving, even if she did do a good job. No life jacket for her again, that'd cost him. This didn't change anything, he was still a jerk. Sigh, how ungrateful could she be? He did go out of his way to rescue her. She swallowed her pride. "Thank you."
He nodded. "No big deal."
Her face flamed again. He left her speechless for the moment. Maybe it was because she really didn't know what she felt about him just then. Like, was he truly a self-important, oblivious, pest? And where was Emma's mother? And why in the world did he call her David sometimes?
Luckily, her brain began to function once again.
"How do you want to approach the dock?" she asked, relieved to deal with the business at hand instead of her sudden mental aberrations.
"We'll ease you in slow and then back off."
That sounded good. She nodded.
"Toss me a line, Lissey," her father called from the dock.
"As soon as I can let go of his boat," she said and watched as the dock grew closer. Watched her father smile at Mr. Duncan with an expression she'd seen more than once before. The wheels were turning in his head. A plan, he was concocting a plan to hornswoggle Bruce Duncan into proposing, fake red hair and all. Bloody hell.
Bruce was as good as his word. Louis's boat barely bumped the dock before he backed the big sailboat away. Sam took the line she tossed him and secured the bow of Louis's boat while she clamored off the stern with another line, favoring her throbbing left knee.
"Nice guy," Sam said as he finished tying the line and joined her at the stern.
"Uh humph," she replied.
