“You prefer a more casual place? Is that it?”
“Not just that. I like it because it’s been a constant; it’s been there for me every time I visit.”
“So you’re opposed to anything new?”
“That’s not what I’m saying. I think that anything that maintains that vibe, the feel of this area, is good. The Tides seemed… Forgive me. Out of character for the Outer Banks.”
“I think there are things about this area that are stuck in the past. That’s the problem around here. They won’t open their eyes and give anything new a chance. I had to battle like crazy to get the permits to build the Tides, but I wasn’t backing down out of principle. We need to look to the future, and that means being comfortable with change.”
“I think there’s a difference between being stuck in the past and maintaining the charm of the past. They’re two distinct things.”
“You sound like the county board of supervisors.” He shook his head, clearly getting frustrated by her comments.
She didn’t want to frustrate him, but she also didn’t agree at all with what he was saying. “Tell me, what did you love about growing up here?” Maybe she could get him to think back to his favorite places. Surely she could remind him of what he loved about this place. It was such a wonderful place.
“The space.”
“Why?”
“Because it was a continuous reminder of what I could build here. I’ve always been a builder. That’s what I do.”
Before she could respond, Chuck walked through the door, carrying his red and white cooler and radio. He set them both down on the floor and looked back and forth between Faith and Jake as if he were surveying the situation. He had on a navy baseball cap that he hadn’t been wearing on the beach, the brim worn from years of wear, the emblem on the front faded beyond recognition. “Got us a flounder,” he said, tapping the cooler with his foot. “Let me wash up and I’ll get to skinnin’ it.”
He walked over to the sink, turned it on, and began scrubbing his hands under the stream of water. There was a palpable silence between the three of them, and Faith wondered how the conversation would go from there on out.
“What would you like to drink?” Jake broke the silence. “I have tea, water, lemonade, beer, white wine…” He dug around in the fridge, moving a few bottles.
“An iced tea would be nice.”
“I only have sweet tea, are you okay with that?” He pulled out a container of crabmeat and set it on the counter, along with two eggs.
“That’s the only tea I drink.”
“Ah, that makes two of us.”
Chuck eyed the ingredients. “Makin’ your famous crab cakes, are ya? Let’s fry ’em. We can fry up the flounder with it.” He grinned in Faith’s direction, the lines on his face white against his tan skin. “I hope you’re hungry, Faith. We’ve got some good food comin’. Jake, son, pour me a tea too, please. That sounds good.” Chuck grabbed the kitchen towel to dry his hands, and Faith noticed how delicate it looked in his weathered fingers. “I hope you like sweet tea. It’s southern sweet—lots of sugar.”
Jake pulled out two glasses, filled them with ice, and topped the cubes with iced tea from a crystal pitcher. “My grandmother believed that if you let it steep in the sunlight when you’re making it, it tastes better.” He set a bag of breadcrumbs and assorted spices next to the eggs.
“I think she just wanted an excuse to be in the sun,” Chuck added with a smile. He’d pulled the large, flat fish out of the cooler and had it lying now on the cutting board.
“Where did she live? Somewhere warm?”
“Mississippi. She was a southern belle,” Chuck answered before Jake could get a word in. He slid the knife under the skin of the fish and, with perfect precision, removed the outside. Then he went to work cutting and deboning. “My mother was a beautiful woman in her day.”
Faith thought of Nan. She, too, was a southern debutant. Raised by wealthy parents, she had been schooled in the best of everything—the best manners, how to treat people, and how to act with tact and professionalism. While Nan didn’t have excessive amounts of money herself, she’d lived well, and she’d made sure to pass along her virtues to Faith’s mother and the girls.
“She spent her final years in Florida,” Chuck continued, pulling her from her thoughts. “Key West.”
“Key West?” Faith looked over at Jake for an explanation, a smile on her face. He smiled back at her, looking at her as if he’d held in a secret.
“I know Key West very well,” Jake said. “I’ve been there quite a few times.”
“I’d love to see it,” she said for Chuck’s benefit. Jake already knew how she felt about it. “So many great authors spent time there. I read so much growing up that I felt like Key West was always present in my life.”
“Mmm,” Chuck said, agreeing. “Jake used to love reading Ernest Hemingway. My mother showed him all the places around town where Hemingway liked to visit. It’s been a while, hasn’t it Jake?” Chuck set a gorgeous slab of bright white flounder onto a plate.
Jake nodded, his hands busy with the preparation of the food.
