A strategy. A plot. A plan.
Sure, my plan has a couple of hurdles, the first being Momand her insistence that I stay away from Lucky. However, since she hasn’t chastised me for his being at the hospital that day when she showed up with her “ride,” and since that whole parking garage experience was so supremely humiliating for all of us, I believe it nullifies her right to have a say-so about who I can or can’t hang around. Therefore, I decide to use my own judgment in this matter. After all, if I’m going to leave her next year, what’s the point in obeying her now?
So one afternoon after my talk with Evie, I don’t tell Mom where I’m going when it’s time for my break. I just quietly walk out the door and head to the other side of Freedom Art Gallery next door, where I withdraw a hundred and fifty dollars from my savings account out of an ATM, and I march across the street to Nick’s Boatyard.
Ignoring the fact that my pulse is racing because Lucky’s red motorcycle is parked in the side alley, I head through the front door, into the boatyard’s offices.
It’s cool inside, quiet, and I have to push up my sunglasses and adjust my eyes to the wood-paneled walls. It smells of engine oil, fiberglass resin, and my childhood.
A filing cabinet shuts, and I swing to face the sound. Kat Karras stares at me with sharp brown eyes. Dark hair curls around the collar of her shirt as she leans on the filing cabinet, crossing her arms in front of her.
“Why, hello there,” she says plainly.
“Mrs. Karras,” I say formally, approaching a long, narrowcounter that separates a small waiting-room area with boating magazines and coffee from her desk. “Long time.”
“Very long time.” Discerning eyes look me over. “Wow. You look just like your mother did in high school.”
I think of the photograph on Adrian’s phone and wince.
Lucky’s mom seems confused. A tense silence hangs between us.
“I came by the Nook to see you … ,” she says.
“I’m sorry,” I blurt, but I’m not sure what I’m apologizing for. Oh God. This was a terrible mistake. I forgot how intense Kat Karras can be. Sharp, dark eyes … sharp cheekbones. “I wanted to see you. I’m sorry I missed you. I mean … I’m sorry I wasn’t there when you came by the shop—not that I missed you.” I let out a nervous laugh, and it sounds awkward and hollow. Maybe because it’s a lie. I lick dry lips and try again, this time with something closer to the truth. “Actually … Ihavemissed you, and I’m sorry I haven’t come by to see you sooner.”
Her brows’ rigid angles ease. “I’ve missed you too. And it’s okay. Everyone’s busy.”
“It’s been weird … being back. Everyone talks. I wasn’t expecting that. I thought it would be the same. Things change, though, don’t they?”
“Things change,” she agrees in a soft voice.
Behind Lucky’s mom, framed photographs of boats crowd the walls like a Hollywood restaurant sporting signed headshots of stars. Big boats. Small boats. Black-and-white photos from the mid-twentieth century. Lucky’s grandparents. The old boat-repairbusinesses across town and the one down the block. They didn’t used to repair super yachts.
“There a reason you’re here,koukla?” she asks, drawing my attention back to her face. I forgot how pretty she was. And intimidating. More intimidating than Lucky, really. Maybe this was a terrible idea.…
Is it too late to just leave?
“Uh, yes,” I say, straightening my shoulders. “So, um, I want to charter a boat so I can take photographs of the harbor?”
She looks taken aback. Confused. “We aren’t a charter company. We repair and build boats.”
“But you doownboats,” I say, gesturing toward the kajillion framed photos on the wall.
“Not luxury yachts, but yes.”
“Well, things have changed, but notthatmuch—I’m not used to luxury, so it’s okay by me,” I say, forcing a soft laugh as I tug at the neckline of my shirt. “It’s just, um, this is definitely different than the old place down the block, right? And I noticed on Mr. Karras’s truck outside, it says, ‘Ask us. No job too small.’?”
She chuckles. “It does say that, sure. But—”
“This is a really small job,” I assure her. “I just want to charter a ride around the harbor for one hour to take pictures. I know you guys are busy, but I was wondering if Lucky could take me? Maybe?”
“Oh?”
“Preferably the hour before twilight, because that’s when I can get the ideal light. For photography.” I plunk down my cash on the counter and get the rest of my practiced spiel out before I lose my nerve. “I checked the rates with the other charter companies in town, and this should be enough. I think?”
She stares at the money.
Heavily lashed eyes flick up to meet my gaze. One dark brow lifts.
