Evan joined him on the bench.
Ray poured coffee into the thermos lid and handed it over. “The whole town’s talking about the postponement.”
Evan took a sip. Hot. Bitter. Grounding. “Yeah.”
“Most folks think it’s because of the vandalism.”
“They’re not wrong.”
Ray looked toward the resort. The Christmas lights were brighter now that the sky had gone dark, throwing color across the boardwalk and onto the water.
“Tomorrow night’s going to be a crowd.”
Evan followed his gaze. The closing gala. The fireworks. The pier packed with guests. Twenty-four extra hours. Twenty-four extra hours for Harker to close the case. Twenty-four extra hours for Caleb to do something desperate.
“You don’t have to be there,” Ray said.
“Yes, I do.” The answer came easier than it would have a month ago. Or even a week ago.
Ray waited.
Evan stared across the harbor. “Last time there was a crowd near this water, I signed off on a route and watched a boat go down.” The words tasted old. Worn smooth from repetition. “But I’m done using guilt as an excuse.”
Ray leaned back. “That what she told you?”
Evan chuckled. “No.” The answer surprised him. “She didn’t have to.”
Margot had never once told him how to live his life. She’d simply lived hers.
He thought about the stairwell. The kitchen. The dock shed at sunrise. The beach. The terrace. “Every time things fall apart, she gets back up. Probably the most stubborn woman on the Outer Banks.”
Ray smiled. “And?”
Evan looked down at the coffee. “I want to be the person who shows up for her.”
The harbor settled around them. A gull cried somewhere beyond the fuel dock. The tide pushed gently against the pilings.
Ray nodded. “She’s good for you.”
Evan didn’t argue. There wasn’t much point. “She is.”
“Five years I’ve watched you fix things around this marina.” Ray took back the thermos. “Boats. Docks. Engines. Bilge pumps.” One corner of his mouth went up. “Everything except yourself.”
Evan shook his head. “You and Jolene should start a club.”
“We already have one.”
Ray stood. “Don’t let this one slip away.” He pointed toward the resort. “Good things only come around once.” Then he picked up his tackle box. “I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
“Front row?”
“Wouldn’t miss it.”
Evan watched him head toward his boat. When Ray disappeared into the shadows beyond the fuel station, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the compass.
The cracked crystal caught the last traces of daylight.
Five years of routines. Five years of carefully measured distances. Five years of convincing himself that caring too much was dangerous. Then Margot Pine had arrived with her pen, clipboards and impossible schedules, a determination that bordered on reckless, and all the walls he’d spent years building looked temporary.
