But I also won’t be around to help out. Amanda has the day’s tours covered, but if she’s sick, or wakes up to a flat tire, or some other emergency pops up at the farm…
What am I supposed to do, though?Cancelan interview I’m lucky to even have? I’ve hardly had time to consider Anson’s offer, but it’s so different from what I pictured for myself, whereas this interview is a literal manifestation of my goals. I’ve been working toward an opportunity like this all summer. I can’t just…notgo.
Grayson’s team isverycapable, I remind myself. If I wasn’t here the past two days, they would have figured everything out just fine. Their world doesn’t revolve around me.
It’s probably the eighth time I’ve replayed those reassurances in my head, and they’ve done nothing to lift the heavy weight in my stomach.
“Fuckyeah,” Kenny suddenly exclaims, leaping fromhis seat. I blink away my thoughts to see a middle-aged man approaching with two full paper plates. “Jay, man, I’ve been looking forward to these all day!”
Smiling as he hands the plates to Kenny, he says, “A few fried oysters, plus some fish I caught yesterday.”
These very plates are the reason Kenny wanted to hang around when most of the vendors already left. As I take in the steaming, golden morsels, I start to understand.
“By the way, this is Eliza. She’s been with us this summer,” Kenny introduces, placing a plate on the cooler beside me before immediately digging in.
Jay extends a hand. “I own a farm up in the bay,” he says, his handshake easy. This must be the Jay who helped Grayson with his new intertidal system. “Marketing, right? Gray mentioned something last time we chatted. Are you liking it?”
“It’s been wonderful,” I say, though that doesn’t quite capture it. The last two months feel like some kind of fever dream. One accented with salty air, big breaths, a few tears, andGrayson.I don’t even know if thereisa word that encompasses it all. Or him, for starters.
“The Gold boys sure got something special going, huh.” It isn’t a question. More like some well-known local fact. “Is it just a summer gig for you?”
“Right now, yes.”
“Right now,” he repeats. His gray eyes twinkle as he glances around. “Garnet Shores, this whole little stretch of coast—it’s got a funny way of hooking you in, doesn’t it?” His gaze settles back on me, a dimple cutting into his wrinkled cheek as he leans in. “Best part is, no one really knows it until they live here. Keeps the place quiet for us.”
He pulls back with a wink and raises a hand to Kenny. “Got to break down the tent, but it was good tosee you guys here.” He smiles at me. “And it was nice to meet you. Maybe I’ll see you around next time I swing by the farm.”
Maybe.
“Thanks for the food,” Kenny says as Jay walks away. Then he sets his sights on me, a grin on his greasy mouth. “Now, I’m not the best with words, but I’m pretty sure you said ‘right now.’”
I really didn’t think he was paying attention. Heck, he spent half the day today humming some Green Day tune while I fielded customers and he shucked oysters in the back.
“I did,” I say, unperturbed, taking a bite of fried fish.
“That mean you might stay?”
There was no harm in being honest with Jay, an uninvolved stranger, but I’m not about to confess my current situation to Kenny. I don’t know if farm gossip is a thing, but I don’t want to start it.
When I take too long to answer, Kenny says, through a giant bite of fried oyster, “Is it ‘cause you moved in with Boss?”
The fish lodges in my throat. I cough, my eyes watering. “I didn’t ‘move in’ with him.”
“But your boat’s getting repaired, and you drove to work together the other day.”
Turns out farm gossipisa thing, because I never even told Kenny I was living on a boat.
“Grayson is helping me out,” I say carefully. “And it’s also none of your business.”
“Um, wrong,” he declares. “Boss obviously likes you, as in—likelikes you—which means his mood is tied to you. If you leave or break up or something, he’s gonna be fuckin’ miserable, and the whole team’s gonnasuffer.”
If Kenny’s been thinking about us this much—shit,is the wholefarmthinking about us, too?
He pops another oyster in his mouth while my mind frantically searches for some way out of this trap. “You aren’t responsible for your boss’s moods,” I say, “so you shouldn’t be digging this deeply into his personal life.”
“I’m not responsible for him, but I like him.” Kenny shrugs. “He’s a good guy. Cool boss. I want to see him happy.”
Some of my annoyance ebbs, if only a little. Unsure where to go from here, I find solace in a fried oyster, hoping Kenny lets this conversation go.
