Selling Mum’s antiques had become an all-consuming task, and with the possibility of the charity store opening, I didn’t think I could go on much longer. Some items had sold quickly; others were just sitting there. I was beginning to think I should keep most of it in storage to sell in the charity gift shop. It would save me all that time packing items and posting them out.
I pulled my phone from my pocket as I neared the lifeboat station. It sat at the end of Main Street, on a parcel of land by itself on the harbor side with its own slipway. Tapping onmy phone screen, I vaguely noted a parked vehicle outside the building as I took the stairs up to the door.
The vase Edward White had been interested in was doing well on its listing. Mrs. Gilchrist had assured me the vase was a fake, but that hadn’t deterred interest. The money would be a nice chunk of fundraising for either the lifeboat service or our ambulance service.
Stuffing my phone back in my pocket, I looked around for the key-code box Aodhan said was right outside the door. It was a wee black box with a combination lock. I slid the numbers to form the code Aodhan gave me and then pressed the button to open the box.
“What?” I scowled to find it empty.
Shutting it with a snap, I realized there was a light on in the station. Either the last volunteer hadn’t left yet or the crew member on my shift had arrived before me.
Sure enough, the entrance opened, and I stepped inside the reception to find the last person I expected to see.
Quinn McQuarrie sat behind the reception desk, his feet up, hands behind his head, relaxed and at ease.
However, those true-blue eyes sharpened ever so slightly at my appearance. “Taran?”
When I did my research into the LSLS, nowhere did it say Quinn was a volunteer crew member. I knew Forde volunteered more than anyone and was one of the boat mechanics. One of the many awards the LSLS had received over the last fifty years that decorated the walls of reception had been specifically awarded to Forde two years ago. He received the George Cross and Distinguished Service Medal for individual gallantry after eighteen years’ service as a volunteer.
Forde had saved more lives than could be counted. The walls of the reception were cluttered with not only individual awards to service people but also Global Search and Rescue awards forthe organization as a whole. That’s why it was baffling to me that no one else was rallying the troops to stop its demise.
Laird had been volunteering for the past nine years and was on the rotation, along with ten more islanders. Once upon a time, they only volunteered one or two nights a week. However, Aodhan had struggled to recruit people to volunteer since Annie and two longtime volunteers had left. That meant the current volunteers were having to be on call more.
“What are you doing here?” I asked defensively.
My ex scratched his beard in thought. “I’m on crew.”
“Since when?”
“Since two weeks ago. Forde trained me for a few months, and now I’m officially crew. What are you doing here?”
“Aodhan roped me into manning the radio.” It had to be deliberate. He must have known Quinn was on the rota for tonight! What was wrong with these islanders? They were sick and nosy and meddling bampots. “But if you’re here, I can leave.”
“There’s supposed to be a station manageranda crew member here at all times.”
“I think you’ll manage without me.” I reached for the door.
“Chicken,” Quinn murmured quietly.
Stunned, I whirled back around. “Did you just call me a chicken?”
His answering grin goaded me. “I did.”
“What, are we ten?”
“No.” He shook his head, his smile faltering. “When you were ten, you liked me.”
I sniffed haughtily but abandoned my escape plan. So Quinn made me nervous. Who cared? I was a grown woman. I could deal with it. I got through a picnic with him and his children, for goodness’ sake. I could deal with a night stuck in the lifeboat station with him.
“I’ve never volunteered here, so I don’t know what I’m doing.” I crossed the reception. The wall opposite the entrance was solid on the bottom and glass on the top half so I could see into the boathouse. It had a curved ceiling and a walkway angled around the back and two sides. In the pit below sat the boat, but it was so big in the space it could be accessed from the upper walkways. At the front of the boathouse were huge doors that levered up to allow the boat to launch down the slipway.
“I heard an F1 driver donated the boat.”
Quinn’s footsteps sounded behind me and then he was beside me, his arm brushing mine. I subtly attempted to step to the side so we weren’t touching, but it made no difference. I was thirteen again and hyperaware of his every move. “Aye. Daire Montrose. He owns the Isle of Scaris. He and his brothers started building a distillery, hotel, and an adventure center on the island years back, but it’s starting to ramp up now, and the few residents on Scaris haven’t been the happiest at the idea of their remote, tranquil island becoming a playground for the rich. I believe the boat was a peace offering.”
Quinn shifted a little closer again. “It’s an all-weather class and can recover from a capsize. In the wheelhouse, every crew member has a suspension seat to protect us from the impact of the waves. There’s a survivor’s space below the wheelhouse, outfitted with everything we need until we can get them to the hospital. While the coxswain pilots the boat, we all have computer screens with access to navigation, VHF radio screen, and radar for locating the distress signal. It’s the best money can buy, so people can be pissed off at Montrose for buying Scaris all they want, but he made sure we’re all safe when we head out into those waters for search and rescue.”
I nodded, trying not to think about the squeeze of panic I experienced at the idea of Quinn out in a storm in that boat.
