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Jackson walks over to a box on a shelf next to his workbench and unclips what looks like a radio microphone attached by a curly cord.
“You know what this is?”
“A budget recording studio?”
He grins.
“It’s a HAM radio, sort of like what truckers use on the highways. I know for a fact Albert’s got one in the dock master’s office. If you want, I can operate, and you talk. You can have him make a call for you or fire off an email, if you want to tell anyone where you are. Friends, boss…” his brow arches. “Boyfriend.”
I roll my eyes, blushing.
“Seriously?”
He shrugs. “Was I that obvious?”
“Subtle as a root canal.”
He smirks as he turns a dial, bringing a crackling sound over the speaker.
“It’s one way at a time. So, you’ll talk, and end whatever you have to say with ‘over’, at which point I’ll release the button so Albert can respond. Good?”
I nod. “Good.”
He turns, but then stops to glance back at me.
“You really told him I was youruncle?”
“Myweird, grumpy uncle.”
“Yeah, that tracks.”
I giggle as he turns, hits a switch, and then holds down the button on the microphone as he holds it close to me.
“Ask for Albert, mention who you are and where you’re calling from.”
I clear my throat.
“Um…Albert? Albert in Cape Harbor? This is Melody over on Falstaff Island?”
I raise a brow at Jackson.
“Over,” he mouths.
“Uh, over.”
He lets go of the button, and static fills the garage. But a few seconds later, it crackles.
“Melody! Albert here. You guys okay over there in the storm? Over.”
Jackson thumbs down the button.
“Yeah! We’re fine. Uncle Robbie is extra cranky about the cold. Over.”
Jackson flips me off as he depresses the button. Albert chuckles.
“Oh, you tell that grump to simmer down. Tell him if the going gets that tough, I’ll come on over myself with some drinks for him. Over.”
Jackson rolls his eye. I giggle.
