“Cubby,” Meg interrupts with a laugh. “Save the gossip for when we’re home.”
Chase returns a few minutes later with two plates, each filled with French fries, breaded-fish sandwiches, and tiny paper cups of tartar sauce. “Here you go,” he says, deep voice rumbling as he hands me a plate. “That’s the perch I caught this morning.”
“Oh wow, really!” I chirp, impressed. “That’s so cool.”
Chase’s brow tightens as he frowns. “Oh, sorry. No. I really can’t tell which fish is which.”
Meg chuckles under her breath, laughing at me.
“Oh!” I say, then tap my nose a few times. “You were joking.”
“Just trying to keep up,” he answers, likeaw shucks, and my heart melts a little.
“You’re doing great,” Meg tells him. “Just give Cubby a hard time, and you’re on the right track.”
“Chase! Chase! There you are!”
A man with wild blue eyes and unkempt hair rushes toward us, a white chef’s apron hanging loosely from his neck. I catch a soft, slightly annoyed grunt from Chase, but he pushes his hand through his hair and summons a smile. “Mr. Jordan. How’s it going?”
“Sorry to interrupt,” the man says in a rushed voice. He casts his eyes to me, reads my shirt, raises an eyebrow as he tries to place me, and then just as quickly turns away, dismissing the whole thought process as he looks back to Chase. “It’s Godfrey. He’s having that problem with his boat again. I’m supposed to tell you.”
“With his engine?” His eyes dart to me and Meg. “Can’t that wait?”
The man shakes his head. “The problem with the leak.” He points to the lake, where I see a man dumping a bucket of water out of his boat. “He says you’ll remember where it was.”
“Right.” Chase sighs. “Tell him to bring it up to shore first, for God’s sake.” He turns and gives us an apologetic shrug. “I guess I should excuse myself.”
“He’ll be right there!” Mr. Jordan yells loudly. “Chase is coming, Godfrey!”
“Chase! Chase!”
Another man comes rushing forward, and I realize a second later that it’s Chase’s uncle, the one who waved at us from the window the other day, now decked out in a tie-dye shirt.
Chase turns. “Uncle Ray?”
“Man from the other day,” Ray says with a courteous nod to me, then to Meg. “And his friend.”
“Hi?” Meg answers.
“It’s a funny thing,” Ray says to Chase, “but can you believe I lost the key to the ice-cream chest?”
“There’s no lock on it, Uncle Ray.”
“I forgot to tell you. I put a lock on the ice cream a couple of hours ago. Trying to stop the employees from eating so much, you know? And now it’s fish-fry night, and we sell more ice cream tonight than we do any other night, but the damn freezer is locked shut.”
“We’re the only employees,” Chase mutters. I can see how his patience is getting tested, but he doesn’t crack. “Do me a favor, Uncle Ray. Tell Godfrey I’m going to be a minute. I’ll figure out how to crack open the ice cream.”
“Aye, aye, captain!”
Chase turns to us. “Sorry,” he says sincerely. “Should have mentioned when I invited you. I have trouble getting a minute alone at this thing most years.”
I can tell he means that. For whatever reason, Chase wants to host us and show us around the town. And when I look around and see the hectic, happy, totally weird scene taking shape at the fish fry, I’m suddenly curious to know everything about this place.
“It’s okay,” I say brightly. “I understand. And it’s kind of sweet how much you’re helping everyone out.”
“It’s nothing. Just have fun. There’s plenty to eat and drink. Bingo is up at the last dock, and the eighties cover band will start pretty soon.”
“Bingo?” Meg asks. She laces her fingers together and stretches her hands out, cracking her knuckles. “I love bingo.”
