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Mackey thought it over, narrowing his eyes as he studied the screen and glancing from Kit to Viv and back again. Then a wide smile broke out across his face. “All of it,” he said, nodding. “Take down the whole thing.”
An hour later, Kit, Viv, and Royal had followed Mackey’s directive to the letter, and the entire screen, along with the screen door, had been removed from the front porch. The four of them stood on the front lawn and admired their handiwork, their gazes moving over the newly opened space, taking in the cleaner lines of the porch beneath the bright glow of the late afternoon sun.
“I think it’ll do,” Kit said, smiling.
“Better than that,” Royal added. “It’s a fresh start.” He looked at Viv, then Kit, warmth entering his expression. “A chance to start over and mold this old house into whatever we want it to be.” He headed toward the front porch steps. “Let’s break out the rockers and give it a looksee.”
The view from the unscreened front porch did look brand new. Kit leaned back in one of the weathered wicker chairs they’d retrieved from inside the house, and shielded her eyes with one hand as she scanned her surroundings.
“Whatcha think?” Royal asked, sitting in a rocking chair next her.
“I think it’s a great change,” she said. “It really opens up the view. Makes it look more spacious.”
And welcoming, she thought, smiling. With the screen gone, she was afforded an unimpeded view of the live oaks lining the dirt road, their sprawling branches reaching in various directions beneath the blue sky and bright sun, and the freshly manicured front lawn. The new mailbox Beau had installed stood nice and neat beside the driveway.
“Makes it feel different, too,” Mackey said. He sat on the top porch step, tipped his head back, and closed his eyes. A grin appeared as he soaked up the warm sun. “We done good, didn’t we?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Kit said. “But we can do better.” She glanced at Viv, who sat on the step beside Mackey, then looked at Royal. “I guess you know Viv and Beau’s oyster farm took a big hit during the storm?”
Royal nodded. “I figured as much. I imagine even the wild oyster beds were damaged.”
“But the good news,” Kit said quietly, “is that the farm Viv and Beau have built can regrow a new, healthy crop, given time and a sound investment from the right folks.”
Royal eased back in the rocker and stretched his legs out, still surveying the new view.
“Viv and Beau were right when they spoke of the decreasing population of wild oysters that night at the community center,” Kit said. “The wild crop is diminishing, and I think it was affecting your business even before Beau and Nate started Pearl Tide?”
Royal sighed. “Yeah. There’s truth in that.” He smiled at Viv. “And I don’t blame you or Beau—or even Nate, hard as that is to admit—for trying another approach. Truth is, shrimping hasn’t been the same in years, either, and I was proud of you for finding another way.”
Viv, blinking rapidly, looked down. A small smile appeared on her face.
“But I’ve spent my whole life on the water. Can’t imagine living it another way, and I don’t want to give up the way we’ve always done it. There’s value in tradition. Always has been,” he said, chin trembling. “It was already hard to scrape by, but now . . . it’s almost impossible to make a living off clusters when you’re competing against those singles that sell for three times as much—even more in the summer months.”
“But the thing is,” Kit continued, “why compete when you don’t have to?”
Royal glanced at her and frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, there’s a third option. One that might preserve your business and pave the way for Viv and Beau’s to thrive, too.” Kit hoped that she could at least do this one thing for Viv, her dad . . . and Beau. Something that would give them all a fighting chance at rebuilding their dreams. “Call your partners, Viv.” She grinned. “Tell the Suttons that the Teagues have issued an invitation for them to join us for supper here at Teague Cottage right after dark.”
* * *
Beau stood at the end of the driveway leading to Teague Cottage, eyeing the brightly lit front porch and pondering whether or not his son had stretched the truth.
“You sure you heard right?” Beau asked, glancing at Cal, who stood beside him.
Cal smirked. “Yeah, for, like, the fifteenth time, Dad.”
Beau bit back a grin. “What’s that?” He gestured toward Cal’s mouth. “Sarcasm?”
Nate scoffed. “Typical teenager.” Standing on the other side of Beau, he propped his hands on his hips and narrowed his eyes at Cal. “You sure it was Royal you spoke to and not just Viv?”
Cal rolled his eyes. “Kit’s the one who called and invited us over, but Mr. Teague got on the phone, too, and said to tell y’all not to be late, because you’d ruin his spread.”
Nate made a face—an odd mixture of curiosity and disgust. “What spread was he talking about?”
“Food, I guess.” Cal waved his hand in the air, dismissing further questions, and strode up the driveway toward the front porch. “I told y’all a thousand times, he and Viv invited us over for supper. Now, are y’all coming or not? All I did today was work—didn’t even stop for lunch—and I’m starving.”
Beau sprang into a jog, moving briskly up the driveway, then slowed Cal’s steps with his hand on his shoulder. “Hold up, there. Why don’t you let me go first?” He rolled his shoulders as he climbed the front porch steps and smiled. “Just in case Royal woke up in a bad mood today.”
