The shop phone rang.
We both stared at it.
Hank had reconnected it twenty minutes earlier after insisting that businesses traditionally required telephones.
His loyalty to tradition was weakening.
I answered.
“Reef Rascal.”
A woman spoke quickly.
“Hi. I’m calling about the Savannah Brooks diving experience.”
“There isn’t one.”
“Oh. The website said she trained with you.”
“The website says we teach beginner scuba.”
“Yes, but can we book the same package she had?”
“She had a private beginner lesson.”
“Perfect. With Ellie?”
“I’m Ellie.”
The woman gasped.
Not a large gasp.
A medium one.
Still unnecessary.
“Oh my God.”
I moved the phone away from my ear.
Captain Pancake lifted his head.
“Yes,” I said.
“Are you available Saturday?”
“For scuba diving?”
A pause.
“Yes.”
“That distinction matters now.”
Hank turned away to hide a smile.
The woman booked two lessons and then attempted to learn which cottage Annie had rented by pretending she needed directions.
