The “shop” was a three-room, two-story shack next to Miami Beach Marina with the sign “Ocean’s Echo” printed above it, decorated with mermaids and colorful fish.Prime and expensive real estate, so when her grandfather left her the business in his will, how could she turn it down?Especially when he’d filled her childhood with tales of lost fleets, ancient relics, and the mysterious disappearance of a British Privateer whose cargo was more precious than gold.
The bell attached to the door rang as she entered, Ethan plodding in behind her.Wooden planks dusted with sand creaked underfoot.Large maps of the Florida Keys and Caribbean islands covered the seafoam green walls.A glass case near the register housed dive computers, compasses, regulators, and knives.On the wall behind it, rental gear hung on metal pegs.And sitting on a stool before the register was Miss Silvia Spike, head leaned back on the shelves behind her, mouth open, eyes closed, snoring.After sharing a grin with Ethan, Desi approached the desk and slapped the tiny bell.Still no movement from Silvia.
Great.What if a customer had come in during one of her naps?
“You really should let her go.Or maybe find something else for her to do?”Ethan ran a hand through his damp hair and stared at the old woman.“I feel responsible since I guess I kinda brought her into your life.”
“Yes, you did.But what was I supposed to do?Leave her out in the cold?She was once my mother’s friend.And if I can keep her from becoming homeless, well…” Shrugging, Desi headed toward the back room, sweeping aside the canvas curtain and entered what she considered her divers’ war room.A stained and scarred wooden workbench stood in the center beside a rolling metal rack that held extra scuba tanks and tools.To the right, a 3-D model of the reef system off the coast occupied an entire table.Behind it, a white board covered the wall with records, sonar images, and red string connected to thumbtacks that formed a web of ship locations and dive sites.
Ethan followed and set down his duffel bag beside hers.“You’re a kind soul, Desi Starr.”He smiled as the ever-present cross dangling over his t-shirt winked at her in the fluorescent lights overhead.
“Maybe I’m just a silly girl with silly dreams.”She gazed back out at Silvia.“One who may very well lose the business my grandfather worked so hard to build.”
“No way.You’re too smart and too hard a worker to allow that to happen.”
The bell jingled again.Before Desi could go out to see if a customer had entered, Camila charged into the back room, a frown on her face.“Want me to wake up the princess?”She nodded toward Silvia, her tone sarcastic.
“Naw, let her sleep for now.”
Easing out of her backpack, Camila tossed it onto the bench and huffed.“Man, I’d love to get paid to sleep.”
“Give her a break.She’s seventy.”
“And she’s getting dementia.”Camila slammed a hand on her waist.“Like you can’t tell?”
Desihadnoticed Silvia’s recent struggles with memory, but she’d tried to ignore it, hoping it would go away.
“How can you expect to run a successful business with her at the wheel?”Camila argued.
“She’s not at the wheel.She’s at the desk.And it’ll be me who does the hiring and firing in this shop.”Desi kept her tone stern and unflinching.Which only caused Camila’s bottom lip to stiffen further.Her first mate was right, but Desi grew weary of her bossy attitude.
“Peace,” Ethan announced, raising his hands in the air.“Come on, let’s check the schedule.I think there’s another group coming in for a lesson this afternoon.”
“Oh, you’re all back.”Silvia appeared in the doorway and smiled, revealing a set of dentures that would blind a saint.“I must have been in the bathroom when you came in.How was the dive, my dear?”She directed the question to Desi, her eyes sparkling with kindness.
“It was great, Silvia, thanks.”
Camila slanted her lips.“Did any customers come in while we were out?”
“Why no.Been very quiet.Not even a phone call.”
Rolling her eyes, Camila stomped away.“I’m going to grab some coffee.”
“Thank you, Silvia.”Desi smiled and led the lady back to the front, ignoring the frustration bubbling in her gut.“Maybe it’s a good time to work on that inventory?”
But Silvia didn’t remember how to do the inventory, so rather than escape to her room upstairs to think about what had happened beneath the sea, Desi had to instruct the woman all over again.Maybe she should just give the old woman a salary and hire someone else for the position.
But she couldn’t afford that.And after an afternoon of scuba diving lessons, a quick dinner, and a glance at the books, she knew thatOcean’s Echowas barely keeping afloat.
Tossing her keys onto a table, she closed the door to her apartment, admired the beauty of her reef tank glowing in the dark, and then flipped on the light switch.Two lamps, their bases carved out of driftwood, sprang to life and sent a golden glow over the studio she’d done her best to decorate like a captain’s cabin.Even after a day chasing ghosts beneath the sea, this little haven felt like the only anchor she had left in the world.Everything within held a piece of her, a memory, a dream, a dive.The dark wooden beams above had been salvaged from an old schooner she’d helped pull from the reefs south of Bimini.The mahogany paneling along the far wall came from the same wreck.
Her bed sat beneath the sloped ceiling, tucked near a round porthole window where the early evening light spilled through in gold and lavender.A weathered ship’s wheel hung above the headboard, flanked by two thick ropes knotted like mooring lines.Her shell collection gleamed softly from the corner cabinet—chambers, spirals, and broken edges arranged with care.A piece of a Spanish coin, a shattered bottle neck from the 1700s, and the pendant she’d found off the Dry Tortugas, still crusted in barnacles, sat on another shelf.Every artifact held a story.
Books lined the driftwood shelf above her desk—marine biology, shipwreck legends, how to write a novel, even a water-stained copy ofCaptain Blood.Between them, she’d wedged old dive knives, coral fragments, and her favorite photo of her sister and her having fun at the beach before her kidneys began failing.That smile was one of the reasons Desi still searched, still dove deeper, chasing treasure… and the impossible.
And in the corner, a little slice of the sea, her reef tank full of corals swaying lazily beneath the LED lights as clownfish darted through the miniature kingdom.Still thriving.Still beautiful.
She kicked off her flip-flops and sat at her desk, flipped open her laptop and stared at the page where she’d left off writing her manuscript…her masterpiece.Who was she kidding?It was nothing but a word salad that made no sense.Leaning back against the chair, she sighed.For as long as she could remember, she’d wanted to write a novel, tell a tale that no one else could tell.A story that burned within her, unknown, pleading with her to put it on paper, to share it with a world that had lost hope.But how could she do that when she had no idea how the story began, and more importantly, how it ended?Even worse, when she felt her own hope slipping away?
