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“No way in hell,” Steve said. “Her husband is so handsome; I’d give him a shot.”
“Shut up, Steve,” she barked, laughing. “You say that about all the good-looking guys.”
“So my father is screwing Lola Beaumont. I wonder if Mom has any idea in hell.”
“I doubt it. Poor Mom,” Kelly lamented. “He’s spent most of his life trying to hide her alcoholism from the townspeople.”
“And us,” Steve said. “My relationships with women are so fucked up because of her.”
“Read that book about adult children of alcoholics, Steve. Don’t waste your life blaming Mom because you aren’t growing up.”
“Thanks. And on that note, goodbye.”
“Aw, don’t be mad. I love you, brother.”
“I love you, too, Kel.”
After they hung up, Kelly went back to the grocery store. She had to get the food home and then make her way to the rescue at Maggie’s. It was really her rescue, and Maggie had taken a hands-off policy, letting Kelly and her sister-in-law, Annie, run the place.
Kelly didn’t know that her father’s mistress, Lola Beaumont, would soon be available to him full time, thanks to Maggie’s houseguest, Katrina.
***
Katrina Blanchard slipped the bottoms of her bikini on, disheartened over her little belly, which pooched out more than usual due to too much Christmas cheer. She was one person excited about Lent because she was almost guaranteed to lose the ten pounds she’d gained over the holidays if she gave up sugar, alcohol and junk food.
“Ugh,” she said, the anticipation of eating healthy for forty days still a drag in spite of the benefits.
Wearing the bikini would help her keep her calorie count under control in the next weeks leading up to Fat Tuesday. Her Catholic parents would be so proud of her had they lived, upholding their roots of following the strict liturgical calendar. Although she didn’t announce it to friends questioning her singleness, her beliefs were one of the reasons she was unable to get serious about any of the possible suitors she’d had over the years. If they weren’t Catholic, she just wasn’t interested. But it was okay to look and to flirt, and that fisherman was worth her time.
Justin and Maggie were on the porch, drinking coffee and giving the dog love, when Katrina came back down, a cover-up hiding the bathing suit, a bag with sunglasses, a book and other necessary sunbathing items within.
“It’s only going up to seventy today,” Maggie said. “Are you going to be warm enough?”
“It’ll be fine in the sun. I’m really going just for the fisherman,” she said. “No point in pretending anything else.”
“Have fun,” Maggie said. “We’ll be here.”
Katrina skipped down the steps and made her way to the dock. Spreading out a blanket, she sat with her legs crossed, facing the water. It wasn’t long before she was into reading her book, a true crime murder mystery, when she heard the chug of a diesel trawler. Looking up, she saw him waving. She waved back, putting the book down. He circled a bit and then stopped, and she heard the rattle of an anchor chain. It was too far off to call to each other. Disappointed, she wished she would have borrowed Maggie’s binoculars. There were people on the boat with him, more than the one deckhand from yesterday.
Watching from afar, her heart rate sped up a little bit when she saw him lower a dinghy on a hoist over the side, into the water. Was he going to come to see her? Sitting up in anticipation, she excitedly watched him climb into the smaller boat and head toward Maggie’s dock.
He waved to her when he got close, pulling alongside the dock.
“Howdy. I forgot my children wanted to come along today.”
“How many kids do you have?”
“I have four, but just the two older kids came today. Angela and Noel. They are good kids, too. Do you have kids?”
“Who, me? Ha! No, no kids. Never been married. I’m the old maid.”
“You’re a beautiful young woman,” he said, looking at her intently with those eyes, melting her heart. “I’m probably too old for you.”
“No, I don’t think so,” she said.
“Can I ask how old you are?”
“Does it have to be an exact number?” she asked, laughing.
