“You mean how you are?” Caleb asks.
I snort at that, because Pike is a long-time retired fisherman who started the Saltline because he couldn’t bear to be awayfrom the sea, and yet didn’t quite have the appetite for being out on the boat all day anymore.
“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re saying, Caleb,” he says tartly. “I know fishermen are a superstitious lot. We’re that way for a reason. There are some things out there you couldn’t even dream of, and I wouldn’t even try to explain it.”
“Try me,” I say under my breath.
“You’re sassy today, Ivy Romantic,” Pike says, eyebrows bristling even more than usual. “That doesn’t have something to do with the fact that you came in on the arm of Caleb Mercer now, does it?”
I give him a look.
“Whatever it is, I say good for you. Whole town’s been rooting for you two to get back together since the moment you left town. Caleb, does that mean you are going to be sticking around here?”
“It means that we’re both starving for breakfast.”
“What do you want, Ivy?” Caleb asks me. “Go on ahead.”
Green flag, I think to myself. Some things might have changed, but at least Caleb isn’t ordering for me like the last guy I went out with. I absolutely hate that shit, even though I think the man probably could order for me quite successfully.
“Can I get the hollandaise special?” I ask. “Side of potatoes crispy. Toast with jam.”
“Do you want that on English muffins or a bagel?” Pike says.
“English muffins,” I tell him. “You know you make better English muffins than Owen does.”
“Well, you and Owen — are you two ever going to stop your feud?” Pike says.
I grin at him and we both know the answer.
Ever since he dumped Posey five years ago for another girl, there ain’t no way I’m gonna stop my rivalry with Owen. Sure,I like him, but there’s just some things that you have to keep doing. My feud with Owen is, friendly as it may be, one of them.
“Nope,” I say, popping the P.
Paulie, an old fisherman, leans over the bar to where Caleb and I are crowded in at the end.
Apparently we’ve caught his interest.
And while Caleb orders — farmer’s breakfast for the record, double bacon — Paulie catches my eye and nods.
“We saw some strange things last night, that’s for sure. Got in late right before the storm broke,” Paulie announces. He has the air of a man winding up to tell a story, and fortunately for Paulie, this is the exact kind of fish tale I want to hear.
“We were lucky we weren’t out there when it broke. It was the strangest thing, too. There wasn’t nothing in the weather reports about any storm coming up. At best it should have been a squall. No. The minute we got offshore we knew there was going to be trouble. Certain look the sea gets, you know. Glassy-like. Huge green-black clouds. Started off in the distance and I turned to Tommy and I said, we don’t want to be out here when this thing bursts open.” Paulie takes a long, dramatic break, sipping his coffee and staring at me over the lip. “Stranger than that, couldn’t catch anything all day. Usually our nets are full. It was like something scared all the fish away.”
Paulie leans closer and I smell coffee on his breath, which could gross me out but really just makes me want to drink coffee as soon as I can.
Am I an addict? Yes.
Do I care? Not now.
“If you ask me, whatever it was, it scared off the fish. It wasn’t the storm.” Paulie taps the side of his nose. “Something strange going on out here.”
“Like what?” I ask. “What could have scared all the fish away? Was it your boat?”
That’s a dumb question and I know it, but I’m genuinely curious if Paulie has any idea about what could have scared fish away. Because if he has an idea about that, odds are he knows whatever the hell it is that Annabelle was talking about last night.
“Honey, if fish were scared of a boat, nobody would ever catch any fish.”
Paulie pats my hand good-naturedly, and it’s weathered beyond belief. Knuckles cracked and dry, tanned to the point where it looks less like skin and more like a leather handbag I have sitting in the back of my closet.
