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Her blue eyes hardened, just a little, as I expected. Intimating she couldn’t take care of herself was a bit of a jerk move, and my regret came swift. I’d just known it would change the direction of the conversation, but new guilt sunk into my bones.
“I’mfine. And youknowI’m fine, Klahanie. I’ve had many more decades in this climate than you’ve had on earth.” Despite her words, she wheeled around to head toward the main house.
“Gram?” She didn’t hear, or just chose to ignore me, because she didn’t even hesitate. Asta trotted next to her, but even the dog looked back once. Feeling the sting, I sighed, unlocked the wheels on the cleaning cart, and trailed behind my grandmother.
Chapter Five
“So, we’ve got our usual parade of folks incoming and outgoing. Josh Sunderland is off the island in search of his elusive perfect woman. We’ll wish him luck with that. Stephanie Wendell is pursuing blue skies as she returns to her flight attendant duties. Here’s wishing her reduced butthead travelers. Tucker Florence—yes, that Tucker Florence of last-minute basket before the buzzer infamy during his stint in junior college—has accepted a job managing a sporting goods store in … oh, one of those fly-over states. Sorry, man. I can’t remember which one. Have fun with that. We’re a little lighter on the incoming, in fact, the lack of checks and balances have knocked over the scale. Other than our resident cryptid, Klahanie Bishop, who has yet to appear beyond a quick stint to the General, no other islander has returned to roost as of late. I’m thinking of setting up a direct line for anyone and everyone to report any Klahanie sightings, but don’t get too close. Physical proximity may push our cute little cryptid further underground. Now, onto birthdays, and garage sales…”
That smooth voice summed up his local news, followed by “The Times They Are-a-Changing,” from Bob Dylan.
Chapter Six
He enjoyed the sting of rain and ocean spray on his face. It felt like little nettles stabbing him at 40 miles per hour, or whatever that was in knots. It just reminded him how far he’d come, and how well he’d trained himself to remain unflinching. He’d even trained himself to seamlessly react when others did.
The man rested his crossed arms on the railing at the bow of the ferry. Despite the miserable weather, people snapped pictures and selfies at an Olympic pace. He didn’t bother to look away, or hide from the camera, but he didn’t go out of his way to photobomb anyone either. He strived to remain normal, just some guy who perceived the boat as a floating bus, like so many other commuters.
Several feet to his right, a kid about five started throwing a fit. The man couldn’t detect actual words in the tirade, but the screaming, the snot, and the flaming red face, were cut and dried communication. Irritation burned within his neutral façade when the old woman with him, presumably, a grandparent, gave the kid a couple of Oreos to buy him off. In his mind’s eye, the man plucked the kid off the deck and tossed him over the side. There. No more tantrums. While he was at it, the old lady needed to go as well, for just enabling the brat’s behavior.
The man didn’t move, but he found the image pleasing.
“I think it’s time we went back to the car, Ty.” The old woman took the kid’s hand, who pulled away.
“I don’t wanna!”
She gave him another Oreo. “C’mon, honey. You can have another when we get back downstairs. We should be docking very soon anyway.”
“’K.” He clasped the cookie in one grubby hand, crumbs and a smear of goo coating the lower part of his face.
The older woman met the man’s eyes for a moment and smiled. “Kids!”
“Yeah, kids. What can you do?” Thoroughly disgusted, he offered a slow smile with a touch of conspiracy. He figured that was what she was looking for.
Still holding onto a rueful smile, she shook her head, and led the brat into the cabin.
The man knew what could be done, but he doubted his insight would be much appreciated. He turned away and watched the island become larger on approach.
Chapter Seven
Gem Plunkett stared at me over her half-moon granny glasses, before giving me a smile. It was similar to the gradual brightness of a sunrise, moving over her face in smooth increments before reaching full potential. She’d owned and operated one of the two used bookstores in town, and served as the school librarian since I could remember. “Well, hello there, Klahanie Bishop! How have you been?”
“Pretty good. How about yourself?”
“No complaints. What do you have there?” She nodded to the package I held in my arms. “Is that what I think it is?”
“Probably. Gram and Sunny send their regards.” Sunny didn’t often drive, so in penance, I’d offered to chauffeur her to deliver some of her baked delectables, but found myself on my own when both ladies suspiciously remembered other important tasks. I could have sworn Gram had snickered as she’d rolled past me toward her office.
“That’s so sweet of them!” She unburdened me, peeled back a corner of aluminum foil, and took a whiff. “Heaven. Those ladies make some of the best apple cobbler I’ve ever had! Be right back!”
She swiveled and disappeared behind the curtain separating the business from the back office, returning a second later. “Thank them, and you, for bringing it by. How are things going out there, by the way? Judith and Sunny must be so thankful you’re home. I know that place can be a lot of hard work.”
“We’re getting along. I did put out an ad, but it seems like no one is interested in a little part time work right now.” I shrugged. “Not that I can blame them.”
“Well, my niece is going to be staying with me for a bit. She might be interested. She’s always been a good little worker.”
I perked up. “Yeah? That would be awesome. When will she be here?”
“Oh, not until summer.”
