“Hmm,” Chloe could hear Libby’s click of her tongue, followed by a, “that’s quite interesting.” Skepticism so abrupt it could have crashed through the phone like a wrecking ball.
“Libby, I’m serious.” She walked into the kitchen, twisted off a cap on a bottle of water, chugged it as if it were the magical, nerve-calming nectar she could use right about now.
“Look, sweetheart, I’m gonna give you a week to submit at least twenty-five percent of that novel. It doesn’t have to be immaculate, Chloe. Just something to show me you’re working on it. I mean, we all know that book isn’t gonna write itself.”
How Captain Obvious of her.
Stepping over to the kitchen window facing the bay, Chloe pulled the rod to slide the shutters open. The bluest of skies, contrasted by the alluring crystal-blue water, along with the cascading movement of the waves as they left the land, provided a sense of hypnotic tranquility–a host of reasons she basked in the delight of being in proximity to the ocean whenever she wrote.
“Fine, Libby. I’ll send something over to you in seven days,” she said, mentally hugging that positivity mantra.
Once their agreement was settled, the two said their goodbyes and ended their chat.
Chloe stood, arms folded, gaze stuck on the water, while a flock of seagulls sat in a huddle on the bank, gulling it up as if they were a group of lifelong friends, meeting at their favorite spot on the beach.
She needed to get out.Breathe in the salty air. Digest a good helping of the people who made up Fortune’s Bay. Surely she could use more inspiration than Dylan (FABs) Hawke. Although, there was no use in pretending visions of that man, with all his spicy allure, weren’t on replay in her head like a new favorite song on a playlist.
Wasting no time,Chloe just about spoon-fed her curiosity with a stroll into town, the warmth of the sun kissing her shoulders left bare by her tank top. Walking would give her time to soak up, absorb the ambiance of Fortune’s Bay.
First stop on her list was the Community Center, figuring she’d be able to pick up an updated map of the town as well as an event calendar. To her surprise, a familiar face sat behind the information desk.
“Hello, there.” A warm smile engulfed the face of one of the ladies Chloe met at Destiny’s Brew. “You remember me from the coffee shop the other morning? Marge is the name,” she said, that smile as huge as Chloe gathered her heart to be.
“Of course I remember meeting you. It’s really nice to see you again. You work here?”
Marge’s fingers crawled over the string of pearls around her neck. Chloe decided the woman, hair the color of lilies, resembled Rose from The Golden Girls. “Oh, no dear, I’m happily retired. Volunteer here about three times a week. We, uh, missed you at the coffee shop this morning. All of us were looking forward to sharing more wonderful stories about Fortune’s Bay.”
“Oh, well, yes. I sort of overslept, but will try my best to get there tomorrow morning.” Thoughts of FABs guy popped into mind. “By chance, was Dylan there this morning?”
Marge nodded, thinly plucked brows raised. “He most certainly was—Samantha also. Those two,”—she shook her head—“honestly, I never thought they’d be able to keep the place running as well as their aunt and uncle had. They surprised us all, I think. You know, us regulars, that is. I personally think the place runs better. It even looks better since Dylan had it remodeled a few months ago.” Marge surveyed Chloe, who was momentarily castaway in a daydream. “Is there something you needed to discuss with Dylan, my dear?”
Heat brushed Chloe’s cheeks. She tried hard not to, but stumbled on her words when she replied, “Oh, no. Not really. I, um…well, his bike. It was still parked outside. At least I think it’s his.” She bit one of her fingernails. “Anyway, I just wasn’t sure if he was home or not.”
“Parked outside? Honey, are you renting his empty unit?”
Chloe nodded, eyes wide.
“That’s wonderful. I know he was pretty reluctant to rent it out. You should have seen the place before it was renovated. A complete and utter eyesore. Brought down property values on the block.” A smile creased her face. “But to finally rent it out…you must be someone important.”
Chloe’s eyes shifted nervously. She couldn’t blow her cover. Not when more people needed to be interviewed, studied.
“I’m sorry? Someone important?”
Marge’s eyes flickered with excitement. “Are you a news reporter from the Miami Herald here to do a story on Fortune’s Bay?”
Oh,thatkind of someone important.Thank you, God.
“I’m not from the Herald, but I am…here for research.” A little white lie never hurt anyone.
“Right. Okay”—she blinked—“what’s your name, dear? You never mentioned it yesterday. Or is that as secret as the research you’re conducting?”
“Chloe,” she divulged with a smile, never feeling the need to keep her first name hidden.
“Ah, I have a cat named Chloe. A sweetheart like you—eyes a stormy blue, like yours, too. Anyway, dear, what’s brought you to the Community Center?”
“Oh, yes. Well, I’m in search of a town map. An event calendar.” Her eyes roamed the information desk.
“You’ve certainly come to the right place.” Marge hauled herself up from the chair, opened a drawer, removed a small folder, handed it to Chloe. “Here you are, sweetie. Everything you need is in there, including an event calendar. Oh, wait,” she added with a raised index finger. “An event at Wilde Pirate tonight.”
Chloe read the flier Marge handed to her. “Karaoke?” An indulgent laugh broke free. “I haven’t done karaoke since college.” Her cheeks grew pink as she vaguely remembered singingBaby One More Timeby Britney Spears, dance moves and all.
“You should go, dear. It’s for a good cause, some teachers raising money for a field trip. And, I’m sure you’ll be able to interview more people. Wilde Pirate is a popular pub for the locals.”
“Thanks, Marge. I’ll keep that in mind.”
After shaking Marge’s hand, promising to hang out at Destiny’s Brew soon, she held the door open for a family with two small children as she walked out. Chloe would take the rest of the afternoon to decide about karaoke at Wilde Pirate.
But first, hanging out on a bench in Providence Park, notebook and pen in hand, would satisfy her people-watching needs.
