Page 63 of Life, Love and the Pursuit of Happiness

He went to his truck and picked up a package from the backseat. When he got back, he handed her the bag, which had an imprint of The Cove. Suspiciously, she opened the bag and pulled out a child-size life vest.

He hadn’t sat back down, but instead stood watching her reaction.

“What is this for?”

“If you won’t stay here with your daughter, then bring her with you.”

“What? I can’t bring a five-year-old on a salvaging ship.”

“Why not?”

“It would be unprofessional of me.”

“Says who? Take your kid to work day, or days. Nothing new in that.”

“Your operation is a business. A child has no place in a business.”

“I’m the boss. My boat, my rules.”

“It would be unsafe for a child out on the ocean.”

“Delilah, I doubt whether Maggie would ever be more than five feet away from you, and she’d wear the life vest 24–7. With seven adult lifeguards in close proximity, the imp would be as safe as on land.”

“Thank you, Merrill, but no thank you.”

“Are you crying?”

“No, I am not crying. I never cry. Why would I cry?” On those words, she stood and said, “I’ll see you in the morning.”

And she went back inside, closing the door firmly behind her.

Stunned, Merrill just stood there for a moment.

What just happened?

Am I in trouble for trying to do a good deed?

Sure seems like it.

And I didn’t even say that crude crap out loud.

Man, sometimes a guy just can’t win for losing.

An hour later, he was in his motel bed, propped against two pillows, his laptop resting against his raised knees. He’d already answered the dozen or so text and email messages he’d gotten from former teammates, his current team members on Sweet Bells, and others, like Laura Atler from The Bell, looking for news to fill a space in her weekly tabloid. There was also a surprising text message from his father:

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Merrill had to smile at his father’s sig line. Not “Father” or “Dad” or, God forbid, “Love, Dad.” As for “the family,” wasn’t he part of that family? And the reference to the Beach Manse, the name of the place where they were staying—just a bit of the usual snobbery, as in this imagined scenario:

“Where are you staying, Mr. Good?”

“At the Beach Manse with my daughter-in-law’s father, James Dellasario. You know Jim from Johnson & Johnson, on the Princeton Board of Trustees.”

“And you, Merrill, where are you staying?”

“Heartbreak Motel.”