“Is not going anywhere. The posts will still need doubling tomorrow.”
“Is Justin helping?”
“He offered.”
“How's his back?”
“He says it's fine.”
“It's not fine. Hasn't been for two years, and he won't see a specialist because he's a Spencer and Spencers would rather quietly fall apart than admit they need help. I take full blame for establishing that tradition.”
My shoulders are tight. I roll them without thinking, and Dad's eyes flick to the movement—cataloging it, I'msure. I don't give him an opening.
“So,” he says. “New arrivals.”
“Lottie. Emma's friend from Chattanooga. Moved here with her boys.”
“I met them. Olson's got a good handshake.”
“You've known him for ten minutes.”
“A handshake tells you everything in the first two seconds. The rest is just confirmation.”
I wait for it. The pivot. The moment where a simple observation becomes a strategic maneuver. My father doesn't make small talk. He makes chess moves.
“Justin should come on the dolphin tour,” Dad says.
“He has his own boat. He can see dolphins whenever he wants.”
“I didn't say he needed to see dolphins. I said he should come.”
“Why?”
“Because your brother spends every day on a shrimp boat with a teenage deckhand and then goes home to an empty house and eats whatever he can microwave standing up. That's not a life. That's a hostage situation he volunteered for.”
“He likes his routine.”
“He's hiding in his routine.” He pauses. “I didthe same after your mother died—did you know that? Six months where the only living thing I talked to was a pelican on slip three. Your mother would've been appalled. She married a man with personality. I owed it to her to find it again.” He levels a look at me that I feel in my spine. “Sound familiar?”
I don't take the bait. My hands are flat on the desk. I press them harder.
“Two new boys on this dock,” Dad says, mercifully shifting. “That's going to change the landscape around here.”
“It was already louder than I wanted.”
“Loud is good. A marina without kids on it is just a parking lot for boats. I didn't build a parking lot.”
“You built a working marina.”
“I built acommunitymarina. The working part paid the bills. The community part was the point.” He looks out the window toward the dock, where the boys are doing a thing with rope that I'm going to have to investigate later. “Those boys need a place to run. This is a good place.”
“Those boys need supervision.”
“They need room to be kids. Let them fall in. Let them get sunburned. That's what summer is for.” He turns back to me. “I gave you the run of this dock from the time you couldwalk. You turned out fine.”
“Debatable.”
“You turned out employed, which is the same in this family.”
