Page 37 of Life, Love and the Pursuit of Happiness

“As I was saying, I was a precocious kid, reading way beyond my years. When other little boys were reading Dr. Seuss, which I liked . . . still like, especially The Sneetches, I finished The Lord of the Rings by the time I was six years old.”

“Seriously?”

He nodded. “I’ll confess something, though. My guilty pleasure, even today, is watching reruns of ‘Mayberry.’”

She frowned with confusion. “You mean that old Andy Griffith Show?”

“Oh, yeah! I know the lines of some of the shows by heart.” In a Sheriff Taylor voice, he said, “You start dating one woman all the time and pretty soon people start taking you for granted. They don’t say, ‘Let’s invite Andy’ or ‘Let’s invite Elly.’ No, they say, ‘Let’s invite Andy and Elly!’ See, then it’s ‘Andy and Elly.’ ‘Elly and Andy.’ And then, that’s when the woman gets her claws in you.”

Delilah laughed and clapped her hands.

He could feel his face heat. “Anyhow, a psychiatrist would have a heyday examining my Mayberry obsession.”

“Is that why you moved to Bell Cove?”

“Could be. Although Bell Cove is a half-assed version of Mayberry.”

Suddenly serious, she put her whisk down—Who knew I had a whisk, by the way?—and said, “That’s nothing. My go-to comfort movie was, and still is, the movie Annie. The original version.”

“See, we have something in common. Guilty pleasures.” He winked at her. “Who knows what other guilty pleasures we might share?”

“Oh, you!” she said, but didn’t seem offended. Instead, she went on, “In fact, my daughter has apparently inherited that Annie addiction of mine. She watches the movie over and over.”

There was a message hidden there in her words, about why she and her daughter fixated on a movie about an orphan. And how they were rescued by . . .

Oh, no! Is that why she asked me if I ever shaved my head? Is she thinking of me as a Daddy Warbucks? I’m not that old! And I do not want to be a father figure to her.

But then, she picked up the whisk again, and using it like a microphone, she sang, in a surprisingly good voice, the lyrics to “It’s a Hard-Knock Life.” Her lips were smiling as she sang and looked at him, but her eyes were sad.

And Merrill fell in love, even more than he already was.

Chapter 9

Me and Jacques Cousteau . . .

After one full day on the site, no treasure had been found, but Delilah was having the time of her life. Instead of work, this felt like a vacation.

She was especially pleased because everyone raved about her meals. Not just last night’s seafood linguine, but this morning’s mushroom and cheddar omelets with sourdough bread, and a lunch featuring turkey, bacon, and avocado sliders with Amish macaroni salad. Tonight she would be serving a mostly Mexican feast which included tacos, burritos, yellow rice, refried beans, and decadent churros with a rich chocolate sauce.

But more than her enjoyment over cooking for an appreciative audience was her fascination with the whole treasure hunting process. Who knew that salvaging could be so thrilling! Especially for her! In a way, treasure hunting was like gambling, and Delilah had always had an aversion to gambling, growing up in a casino town and seeing the ill effects on some people. Fortunes were lost, families ruined on the flip of a card. But shipwreck salvaging was different somehow, in more than the obvious ways. Sure, the stakes were high and the risks even greater, but there was a professionalism to it that raised it above the muck. Maybe it was because so much hard work was involved. Or it could be the historical context. It felt a little Jacques Cousteau-ish.

Three dives had been made today with alternating pairs going down in tandem. Merrill and Gus. Adam and Bonita. If nothing of interest was seen and the spot was deemed a dud in terms of shipwreck remains, the anchor was pulled and the boat moved to the next block in the grid.

Even the diving itself was a time-consuming process due to all the necessary precautions. Because these were deep waters, the divers could only stay below for twenty-five minutes, Merrill had explained to her earlier, and then an hour coming back up, stopping at intervals to decompress as a precaution against the dreaded narcosis, better known as the bends. Even when they were back on board, they had to wait another two or three hours as they continued to decompress.

By late afternoon, they were about to make the fourth and final dive for the day, and Delilah was too excited to stay below. Checking to ensure that all her food was ready to be popped into the oven when everyone wanted to eat, she went up on deck. She was just in time.

Bonita and Adam were sitting on the side of the boat in full diving gear. At a signal from Merrill they bit down on their regulators and rolled backward into the water.

“I thought you guys would be wearing those skintight rubber suits like you see on TV,” Delilah remarked to Gus, who was watching that the lines uncoiled without a hitch. “The ones that fit like a glove.” And I wouldn’t be caught dead in. My curves get too much attention as it is. Besides, no way would my butt fit in one of those girdle-ish affairs, and my boobs would be squished if they fit at all. Em-barr-ass-ing!

Without looking her way, Gus said, “Nope. Too cold for a wet suit at this depth. The dry suits are big and bulky, but at least your toes, and other body parts, don’t freeze.” Now that the line was fully extended, he glanced her way and grinned. “I can always model my tightest neoprene for you if you’re interested.”

She went stiff at his suggestive remark, but then, as he winked at her, she realized that he was just teasing. “Thanks, but I’ll pass.” She really needed to stop being so defensive. Not every man was a sexist pig, like many of the guards she’d been exposed to for five long years.

Merrill came over then and exchanged a few words with Gus. “The WAPs are surprisingly good this afternoon. I was able to do an overlay of the GODAR sets with the GrADS and see much better than this morning. Super clarity!”

“And the virtual biological sludge on the GCMS?”