My face lights up at the suggestion. “That sounds perfect. Even if I don’t catch anything, I will make sure I bring mycamera this time. I’d love to try and capture a sunrise as inspiration.”
“Great,” Levi says, a hint of excitement breaking through his composed exterior. “I’ll meet you here at 5. Don’t worry about gear – I’ll bring everything we need. Though you may want to bring a bathing suit.”
After we say our goodbyes, I walk back towards my houseboat, turning to wave once before I round the corner. My mind is already racing with ideas for paintings I want to create, and my heart feels full from a day well spent.
Settling into my floating home, I can’t stop smiling. Who would have thought this quiet, somewhat awkward man would be such a fantastic guide? On the water, he’s in his element – confident, knowledgeable, and almost poetic in his love for this area.
I’m reluctant to get to work after such an invigorating day, but I know I need to work on a few projects. I grab my laptop and head out to the back deck of the houseboat. The late afternoon sun is warm on my skin as I settle into a comfortable chair. As I open my computer, the gentle lapping of waves against the hull provides a soothing backdrop.
As I work, I can’t help but glance up now and then, taking in the picturesque view of the harbor. The sun’s rays dance on the water, creating a shimmering tapestry of light. Seagulls cry overhead and the salty breeze carries the scent of the ocean. I could get used to this kind of workspace, I think to myself with a smile.
I also find myself keeping one eye on Levi’s houseboat, hoping to catch a glimpse of him. I have to force myself to refocus on my computer screen several times. My mind occasionally wanders to thoughts of Levi and tomorrow’s fishing trip. I’m not much for fishing, especially when dealing with bait, but I am excited for another adventure.
CHAPTER 6
Rose
Iblink, disoriented, and look up from my laptop. The ache in my neck tells me I’ve been hunched over a screen for far too long. The sky has darkened considerably, painting the harbor in deep purples and golds. Absorbed in my work, I’ve lost all sense of time. Glancing at my watch, I grimace – several hours have slipped by unnoticed.
As if on cue, my stomach growls loudly, reminding me that I haven’t eaten since the picnic with Levi. The memory of our lunch brings a smile, quickly followed by a blush as I think about my handsome guide.
I stretch, working out the kinks in my neck and back, then pack up my computer. The restaurant Levi recommended – The Fish House – seems like the perfect solution to my hunger. Plus, I admit to myself that a small part of me hopes I might run into him there.
After freshening up, I hop into my rental car and drive along the main road hugging the coastline. The Fish House is easy to spot – a weathered, two-story building that looks likeit’s been standing against the sea winds for at least a century. Its wood siding, once probably a dark brown, has faded to a weathered, silvery gray. Fishing nets and colorful buoys decorate the exterior, giving it an authentic, rustic charm.
The warmth and aroma of fried fish and savory spices envelop me as I step inside. The interior is cozy and inviting, with worn wooden tables, nautical decor, and large windows offering a spectacular ocean view. Most of the tables are occupied, and a low hum of conversation fills the air.
I feel numerous curious gazes turn my way as I enter. It’s clear I’m not a local; in a small town like this, a new face is bound to draw attention. I meet their looks with a smile and a polite nod, trying not to feel too out of place.
A waitress approaches me, holding a stack of laminated menus, and I can’t help but stare for a moment. There’s something captivating about her that immediately catches my eye. Her skin gleams with an iridescent quality, and I realize she must be wearing some kind of shimmer powder. It’s subtle but unmistakable, giving her an ethereal glow in the low light. Her movements are exceptionally graceful, almost fluid, as she offers me a welcoming smile. Her striking sea glass-green eyes complete the enchanting effect. I wonder why someone who looks like she stepped off a magazine cover is waiting tables in a seaside restaurant, though I can imagine the tips from mesmerized customers must be exceptional.
“Welcome to The Fish House,” she says, her voice melodious. “Table for one?”
I nod, and she leads me to a small table by the window overlooking the rocky coastline below. As I settle in, I look around at the other patrons. The diversity is striking – there’s a group of men at the bar who look like they could be straight out of a Russian novel, with their thick beards and booming laughs. They’re wearing long-sleeved shirts in either white or red withintricate embroidery adorning the hems and cuffs. I can’t help but think they look like a gathering of Tolstoy impersonators, each seemingly competing for the most impressive beard. In one corner, a strikingly attractive young couple speaks in hushed tones, their features sharp and angular. They look like they both just arrived from a fashion show catwalk and look out of place in the rustic restaurant. Near the center of the room, a table of teenage girls catch my eye, most of them with hair dyed in vibrant colors. I’m a little jealous – when I was in my goth phase as a teen, I’d begged my mother to let me dye my hair, but she’d threatened to ground me until I left for college if I’d tried.
A solitary figure hunches over a leather-bound book by a cold, empty hearth. As I look closer, I notice it’s an elderly woman with wild, unkempt gray hair. Her gnarled fingers trace the pages, and when her eyes briefly flick up to meet mine, something cold and hungry gleams in them, making me quickly look away.
I shake my head, scolding myself for letting my imagination run wild. She’s just a normal woman reading a book, not some witch from an old fairy tale – it’s not like she’s about to offer someone a poisoned apple. Still, I can’t quite shake the chill that ran down my spine when our eyes met.
“My name is Cali and I’ll be serving you today. Can I start you off with anything to drink?” the waitress asks, startling me.
“Oh uh… I’m Rose. I’ll just have water for now, thank you,” I reply, trying to recover from my ridiculous spook. “And I’d love to hear your recommendations. It’s my first time here, and I’d love to try something local.”
Her face lights up at my request. “Oh, you’re in for a treat! Our chef’s specialty is the clam chowder – it’s a creamy New England-style chowder that’s absolutely to die for. And if you’re up for it, the Fisherman’s Platter is amazing – it’s a generous portion of fried haddock, scallops, and whole belly clams. We’vealso got a great lobster roll if you’re in the mood for something classic or our baked stuffed cod if you prefer something lighter. And don’t forget to check out our daily specials – today we’ve got a fantastic grilled swordfish with lemon caper sauce.”
My stomach growls at the thought of all the delicious-sounding food. “That all sounds wonderful. I’ll try the chowder and… a lobster roll.”
As I wait for my food, the door chimes, and a familiar figure enters – Koko. The atmosphere in the restaurant shifts immediately. It’s as if a celebrity has walked in; every head turns, and a chorus of greetings rings out. Koko moves through the room with an effortless grace, stopping at nearly every table to chat, laugh, or place a friendly hand on someone’s shoulder.
“Evening, Koko,” Cali calls out. “Your usual table?”
Before Koko can respond, a cheerful voice calls out from a nearby table. “Mayor! Why don’t you join us for dinner?”
I glance over to see a middle-aged man enthusiastically waving at Koko. His dining companion nods in agreement and gestures to an empty chair at their table.
“Not tonight, gentlemen,” Koko replies with a warm smile. “Just picking up an order for home. But I appreciate the offer.”
Mayor?I wonder if he means that literally or if it’s just an affectionate nickname. Given how she seems to know everyone, it could be either.
