Page 74 of Life, Love and the Pursuit of Happiness

Thus far, Gus and K-4 had driven the motorboat into town three times, under the cover of darkness, and unloaded the ice chests onto the Bell Forge wharf, where Gabe and Harry made sure they were locked in a secure room. An amazing ten chests so far! And more ready to go.

Only once had Gus or K-4 encountered any town folks who might question what they were doing. It had been Frank Baxter from the hardware store, who had taken up jogging of late, supposedly to impress the widow mayor, Doreen Ferguson.

“Whatcha got in them ice chests?” a huffing Frank had asked.

“Shhh! It’s spiny lobsters,” Gus had lied. There was a legal limit on how many lobsters one person could catch in a day. “Don’t tell anyone. My mother loves to mix them with herring in her Norse potato salad.”

Frank had barely hidden his distaste for that news. Apparently, everyone knew about Mrs. Gustafson’s potato salad that was heavy on the little salted fishies, when it wasn’t alternated with something called lutefisk.

“Should I tell Mom to send you some?”

“No, no, I’m allergic to shellfish.”

But now, as the boat chugged on its five-mile trek back home, Delilah was down below, her bag packed, and the salon half-filled with trash and laundry bags to be taken ashore. Other people’s luggage and duffels were there, too.

Kevin came down then. She had trouble thinking or referring to him by his SEAL nickname, “K-4.” Just as she would have if asked to call Merrill “Geek.”

“Need any help?” he asked.

“Not yet,” she said. “Once the boat is secured, though . . . definitely.”

“Any coffee left?”

“Yes,” she said, and poured him a mug, which he took black.

They both sat at the table, listening to the activity up above. The stomping of feet, loud chatter, laughter.

She had a tablet in front of her on which she’d started several lists: Food (the list was enormous even though she didn’t know how long they would be out next time). Supplies (such as napkins, paper towels, and toilet tissue). Maggie (school clothes, backpack, dentist appointment, guardianship papers from lawyer). Diner (remove old appliances, call gas company, fix neon sign?). Motel (cost estimate for remaining five units, reflagging patios, parking lot repairs).

The radio on the counter was playing beach music of the Carolina style with occasional interruptions to give updates on Tropical Storm Heloise, which was expected to hit the Outer Banks tomorrow. It wasn’t a hurricane or anything dire like that, but high winds and driving rains were forecast for the next few days, which meant no diving. Another reason why they’d decided to head back today.

“So, you and Geek, huh?” Kevin remarked suddenly, and grinned at her.

She wasn’t sure how to answer; so, she just nodded.

“He’s a good guy.”

That she could agree with. She nodded again. “You’re not going to warn me about not hurting your buddy or something like that, are you?”

He laughed. “Nah, Geek’s a big boy. And I know from experience that life’s short. Grab what happiness you can when you can.”

“Even if it can end in pain?”

“Even then.”

Kevin was a good-looking man, even with the ten-day scruff of beard he’d grown and hair overlong and in need of a trim. His eyes always looked a bit sad, though. Women must love him, sure they were the ones to heal his grief. He probably used that to his dating advantage.

That is so cynical of me!

But probably true.

“Your room at the motel is ready for you,” she informed him. Her grandmother had told her yesterday that Barb and Stu from Blankety-Blank had come by and installed curtains and made up the beds with new linens and the wave-like bedspreads. “I assume you want to stay there again.”

“Yep. The Blue Hawaii suite. I expect to have hula girls greeting me when we get back,” he teased.

“Don’t count on it. From me, anyhow. Any hula girls will have to be by your own arrangement.”

“Aw, shucks! And I was really in the mood for some grass skirt action.”