“That’s what I said.” Lacey climbed down and wiped chalk dust on her jeans. “Cass is meeting you at ten about the lantern route. She has opinions.”
“Cass always has opinions.”
“Good ones, usually.” Lacey glanced toward the marina. “You going to see Evan?”
“He requested a binder.”
“A romantic man.”
“He also made coffee.”
“Then marry him immediately.”
Margot pointed the binder at her. “You are worse than Jolene.”
“Nobody is worse than Jolene. Jolene is a category.”
From the bakery doorway, Lou called, “I heard that.”
Lacey waved without guilt.
Margot kept walking.
By the time she reached the marina, the sun had cleared the rooftops and turned the water silver. Dock lines creaked. A gull complained from the roof of the fuel office. The air smelled like salt, coffee, and the first cool morning that hinted summer had finally packed its bags.
Evan was outside the dock shed, replacing a cleat.
Of course he was.
He looked up when she came down the boardwalk. His hair was damp at the ends, and his sleeves were pushed to his forearms. There was a pencil tucked behind his ear.
“You requested a binder,” she said.
“I did.”
“Do you need the binder, or was that your way of making sure I didn’t bring all six?”
His mouth moved. “Both.”
She stopped beside him and looked at the cleat. “Is this the same one?”
“Different one.”
“How many cleats does this marina have?”
“Enough.”
“That is not a number.”
“It’s a marina number.”
She set the binder on the dock box. “That answer would not survive a budget meeting.”
“I avoid budget meetings.”
“I noticed.”
He stood, wiped his hands on a rag, and opened the shed door. “Coffee’s inside.”
