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“I have a long-shot idea about the permit.” I say. “A friend of a friend might be able to tell us what the holdup is.”
Austin’s face is washed in relief. “Really?”
“Maybe,” I say, wanting to temper expectations here. “Like I said, it’s a long shot. But I’m going to track him down now.”
“Can I come along?” Austin asks.
“You want come to the pier with me?”
He raises his eyebrows. “Thepier? Who do you know, Walker? It’s sounding a little bit mafia-esque.”
I laugh at the idea of Hal being a made man. “It’s all above board.” I reassure him. “Or, overboard. If this guy is anything like his wife, be prepared for the puns.”
Outside,it’s a gorgeous day for the walk out to Hal’s fishing spot. I’ve been here once before, while on a stroll with Lottie, who was bringing him a picnic lunch. That’s the kind of couple they are—starry-eyed in love after almost fifty years.
“That’s him,” I tell Austin quietly, pointing to the short, white-haired man in a fisherman’s vest.
“Hey, Hal,” I say gently, trying not to sneak up on him.
He turns, his face splitting into a grin. “Jenn! Hey, sweetheart. What are you doin’ out here?”
“Looking for you, actually.” I gesture back at Austin. “Austin, this is Hal Owens. Hal, this is my boss—”
“Austin Banks,” Hal finishes, clearly recognizing him. “I’ll be damned. How’s retirement treating you?”
“Not bad,” Austin says affably. “Keeping busy.”
“So, you’re Jenn’s boss now?” Hal asks. He sets down his fishing rod. “Lucky man.”
“She’s a wonderful addition,” Austin agrees, shooting me a smile.
“Here’s a tip for you, son. Jenn here makes delicious jam thumbprint cookies. You know the ones? Old-fashioned, or so some people might think, but my favorite.” Hal wags a finger at Austin. “If there’s an office potluck, request them. Or her coconut macaroons.”
“Thatisa good tip,” Austin says. He’s looking at me with amusement.
“Now,” Hal says. “What do you need me for?”
“Right,” I say, remembering our mission here. “Austin’s opening a luxury spa, and there’s a permit that seems to be crawling through City Hall.”
“Ah-ha,” Hal says, knowingly. “You want me to see what’s going on?”
“There’d be jam thumbprint cookies in it for you…” I offer, waggling my eyebrows.
“Of course I’ll put a call in,” Hal says, taking his phone out of his vest. “I enjoyed watching you play ball, young man. And you have good taste in employees. Give me just one moment.”
Hal takes a few steps away from us as he dials. The last thing I hear is him greeting the person cheerfully, by name. Fingers crossed.
“Are you sure you were honest about your identity?” Austin asks.
I freeze, my blood running cold.
“You knitandyou bake jam thumbprint cookies,” he continues, with a grin. “Are you secretly a seventy-something lady named Pearl?”
I exhale loudly and try to play it as a laugh—he’s just teasing me.
“Hey,” I say, pretending to be offended. “I’ll have you know that I have many hobbies. And, yes, most of them are traditionally geriatric. But they’re working for you today, aren’t they?”
I gesture to Hal, who is pacing while he talks. He throws his head back to laugh, so hopefully that’s a good sign.
