Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73010 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73010 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 365(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
“Is it even up for discussion?”
“Nope.” He folds his arms. “Besides…if it was, it would have to…to be the right…p…person under the…r…right circumstances.”
“You mean like your family members?” I can see Emma fidgeting in my side view, much like she did around the bucket. “I hear they’ve been doing a good job holding down the fort during your recovery.”
He nods and motions toward his granddaughter. “B…but they have other…interests. Emma just…g…graduated high school and…p…plans to start college. And my…d…daughter, Mary… already has a full-time j…job over in Sandy Springs.”
“Well, it’s nice to have help from time to time.” I rap my knuckles on the counter. “I’ve learned that the hard way. Take care.” I wave goodbye and head toward the door.
“Wait, mister.” Emma walks over to us. “One person did ask about the boat, and I told them to inquire at the storage warehouse.”
My stomach squeezes at the news, but what did I expect? This is a fishing community, and the boat seems solid enough. “Okay, thanks.”
Once back on the pier, I walk to the end of the row and turn right, even though Vitamin Sea isn’t there, let alone Micah. I stare at the ocean, at the other boats moored in their slips, at the fishers already gathered for their day. That’s when a large vessel heading out to sea catches my eye. Calamity Jane. She’s been repainted a darker shade of blue, and I smile despite myself, imagining Grandpa Malone helping release the cages filled with the day’s catch. The air would smell like a mix of fish and salt water, much like it does now, but more pungent the closer you got.
I watch as the ship disappears over the horizon as if I only imagined it, and I’m filled with such profound melancholy that it almost feels like an omen. For what, I don’t know. Christ, listen to me. Beth would be proud.
I walk back to my car and wave as I pass by the shack again. My gaze snags on the warehouse, and my feet take me toward it. No harm in inquiring there too.
A man with a toothpick hanging out of his mouth approaches me. His name tag reads Bert. “Can I help you?”
I almost tell him I’m related to Micah through marriage. Instead, I pretend I’m just a customer. “I’m interested in the Malone boat that’s for sale.”
“Sure, follow me.”
I have no idea why I’m pretending I’m interested, but it feels like the safer option for now. As opposed to the other emotional responses surging in my gut. “Have there been many offers?”
“Only one, but the man lowballed him,” he throws over his shoulder.
“Oh, I see. So he’s not budging on the price?”
“As of now, nope.” He grimaces. “Though I don’t know how much interest that’ll get him.”
I have to wonder if his stubbornness on the value is by design. So he doesn’t have to let go of it just yet.
When we get to the dry stack where Vitamin Sea is stored, I walk around the hull, pretending to check the finish. “Seems in good shape.”
“For her age, you bet.”
The decision clicks into place, and I know it’s the right one even if I can’t fully unpack the why of it just yet. “I’d like to put in an offer for the full asking price. But on one condition.”
Bert shifts his toothpick as if skeptical. “What’s that?”
“That the buyer remains anonymous. I’ll pay cash. Give me a couple of days.”
“All right, then,” he replies, studying me cooly. “I’ll let Mr. Malone know.”
Feeling calmer than I have in days, I head to my car and slide behind the wheel. Micah will likely be disappointed to hear the news, but I won’t stay anonymous forever. Or maybe I will. Depends. For now, it feels best.
By the time I get to my house, I’ve come to the realization that my impulsive purchase is predicated on the desire to keep a piece of Micah for myself. Or rather, something he treasures. And you never know, maybe with time, I’ll become a boatman or a fisher. I don’t have many hobbies outside of work, so I just might surprise myself.
That night, I feel halfway human again, even whistling to myself as I greet and serve customers at the bar. The idea of being able to hold on to something that represents Micah and our life together brings me temporary peace.
“You look better than I expected,” June says as she slides onto a stool.
“I’ll have to agree,” Jack adds from behind her. “We’re here to offer support, brother.”
Sadness filters through June’s gaze. “We know how painful it’s been for you.”
I press against the stitch in my chest. “Appreciate that.”
I keep my emotions at bay and fill their drink orders, but after a few minutes of chitchat, it’s getting harder to keep my earlier decision to myself.