“It doesn’t say, but my guess is a commercial fishing boat. Don’t know who else would be seventy-five miles off the coast, ‘specially with a storm like this about to hit. It’s dangerous water out there.”
“Are they okay?”
“Heading to the hospital for evaluation.”
She nodded, knowing the protocol. “That’s great news. I’m so glad that’s over.”
“Me too.” Skip’s head swung back and forth, not quite a nod, not quite a shake. “Me too.”
Camille gave the old sailor a sidelong glance. “I would never suggest that you liked the thought of a missing boat at sea, but I don’t think I’m misspeaking when I say you enjoyed following along with the story. Is there maybe a little truth to that?”
“It added some excitement to my days.” His hunched shoulders did a little waggle. “I can’t deny that. But of course, this was the ending I always hoped for.”
“Of course. It’s what we all wanted.” She looked at her dear friend thoughtfully. Lately, she felt like the light had gone out of his eyes, like his grin was a little more forced and his words a little more curt. She didn’t expect him to be in a state of constant joy—that wasn’t possible for anyone—but she had started to worry that maybe something was bothering him. “Are you happy, Skip?”
The man’s white brows tugged together. “’Course, I’m happy, Millie. Silly question for you to ask. I know I don’t always show it. Sometimes it takes a lot of energy at my age to keep a big smile on my face, but I’m happy. Happiest I’ve been in a long while.”
“And you’re still happy with how things are going with The Getaway?”
She couldn’t help but feel like sometimes she’d barreled in and taken over. It was what he’d hired her to do, but at the end of the day, this was still his house and his business. And now Camille lived there with Foster, too. They were taking over, at the very least in number. The last thing she wanted was to squeeze Skip out of the place that was home to him and had been for so many years. She had no right.
“I think things are going great with The Getaway.” He stood from his chair and placed his computer on the table nearby while Camille fought the urge to help him. She’d been scolded a few too many times for rushing to his aid simply because his legswere a little shaky and his joints were a tad creaky. He could still do things on his own, and that involved sitting and standing, he’d firmly explained to her. But Camille just wanted to do what she could to make her friend’s life easier, all the way around.
“Sure, we’re down some reservations because of the storm,” he continued, “but that’s to be expected. Things will pick up once this passes through.”
“And you don’t feel like I’ve taken over too much? Like I’ve taken something that was yours and made it entirely my own?”
“That’s the goal, isn’t it Millie?” He stepped close and reached for her hand, not to steady himself, but as a gesture of endearment. “When I’m gone, it’ll all be yours. Might as well start practicing now while I’m still around and can tell you what you’re doing wrong.” He gave her a big wink, but Camille’s head hadn’t caught up to that part yet. It was stuck on his previous statement.
“When you’re gone…?”
“Don’t think I haven’t thought that far ahead. Truth be told, it’s probably not that far off anymore, really.”
“Skip.” Camille wouldn’t hear any of it. “Don’t talk like that.”
“I’ve got my ducks in a row, Millie. Don’t you worry about any of that.” Skip swiveled his gaze about the room. “All of this will be yours—and Foster’s now, too—once this old sailor has kicked the bucket.”
She could scarcely draw in the breath necessary to keep her head from blacking out. “What? We haven’t even talked about any of this.”
“You saying you don’t want the Inn?”
That wasn’t it at all. She just hadn’t been prepared for this sort of news, even though it made sense that Skip was. Not that he was knocking on death’s door or anything like that. But he was getting up there in years, and planning for these sorts of things was the responsible thing to do.
But still…
“I don’t know what to say.” Meeting this precious man had already been one of her life’s greatest gifts. And now he wanted her to live out his legacy, here in this house with Foster. She couldn’t comprehend what she was hearing. It was equal parts bittersweet and too good to be true.
“Say you’ll continue to make The Getaway your own, and that when the time comes, you’ll give this place your all, just like my Gertie used to.”
She simply fell into Skip’s arms, the old man catching her in a huge embrace. “Skip, no one has ever given me anything like this before. I don’t have words to express what this means to me. Words to convey my gratitude.”
“And no one has given me what you have: the gift of finally having a daughter.” He smoothed a hand over her hair and then patted her gently on the back. “My Gertie wanted to be a mother so badly. I wish she would have had the chance to meet you, Millie. She would have loved you like you were her own.”
Even if she had wanted to, Camille couldn’t keep the tears from spilling over her cheeks. She cried, that lip-quivering, shoulder-shuddering type of cry that was impossible to bottle up.
“Don’t go doing that now, Millie. You’re going to crack this old curmudgeon exterior of mine if you keep at it. Wouldn’t want any of that.”
“I love you, Skip.” She wiped her tear-soaked chin on his shoulder.
