THEY’D ARRIVED AT the Inn separately—Courtney walked up from her cottage, while James coasted down the gravel drive on that ancient bike—but standing together, waiting for a table, it still felt like a very awkward first date.
She’d never been good at dating.
It was just the setting, Courtney told herself, once they were seated at the outside corner table, which was set diagonally so they each had a view of both water and land. Sunset-tinted water stretched out to open ocean, south and east; behind her, the mainland would be a faint moustache across the western horizon—bumped by that one crazy blue pimple of water tower. This was a blushingly romantic spot, but only for an actual couple, which they definitely weren’t.
“Thank you again for all the help with the Homer,” Courtney repeated, just to reinforce why she’d asked James to share the dinner-for-two gift certificate she’d won two nights ago. He kept his eyes on the menu, left thumb pressing into that scar. “Too bad you didn’t come up for the fireworks,” she added. “You might’ve won it yourself.”
“I don’t like—ah, at last!” He turned to the waitress. “I’ll take a beer—whatever’s on tap.”
Didn’t like fireworks?
“And for the lady?” The dark-haired girl smiled at Courtney, exposing one crooked front tooth.
“Summer ale. And an ice water.” And don’t call me “lady,” ever again.
Opening the menu, Courtney almost gasped at the prices— though it all sounded delicious. Except the Maryland crab cakes, which would surely be a disappointment compared to her mother’s.
She’d order something quick to prepare and easy to eat, so this awkward evening would be over as fast as possible. What had ever made her think inviting James to dinner was a good idea?
He set down the menu to scratch at his beard. A nice balance to those eyebrows—despite one or two gray chin whiskers.
Just before leaving Newport that afternoon, she’d worked up the nerve to text him. An agonizing thirty-five minutes later, right off the Brenton breakwater, she got a reply: he’d meet her up here. As if walking up the hill together would be more than he could possibly stand.
When he’d appeared on his bike, out of breath and a little sweaty, he’d explained that he’d come straight from Joe’s house. Shook his head, as if the news wasn’t good.
Courtney hadn’t ever met Joe, but she’d never heard a bad word about the guy. On this island, where grudges were held for generations, that was impressive.
Their beers arrived, and Courtney reached for a smile as she raised her glass. “Cheers. Here’s to the—”
“Some bread for the table. . . now let me tell you about our specials.” The server held up a small pad. Courtney had never seen her before—though with that strong Irish accent, she must’ve ridden the ferry at least once. “We’ve got a fresh striped bass served with lemon and capers. We also have a grilled pork chop. . .”
“What’s a stuffie?” Courtney asked.
“Local speciality. And delicious!” the girl promised, pencil poised.
“Broiled scallops, please,” Courtney said, closing her menu.
“Oh sorry—we ran out over the weekend. It’s been just completely crazy around here! How about the striped bass instead?”
Rockfish, Courtney corrected. And there had been no fish delivery for the Inn today, she was sure. “Never mind—I’ll have the chicken breast.”
“Out of that too.”
“All right. . . how about fish and chips.”
“Excellent choice. Sir?”
“Steak, medium rare,” James replied.
“Salad to start?”
“Okay.”
“House dressing? It’s a lovely vinaigrette.” James nodded, so the server turned to Courtney. “Can I bring you a starter as well, ma’am?”
Courtney shook her head, trying to decide whether “lady” was better than “ma’am.”
“Oh! I forgot—” the girl turned back to add, “my name’s Shana. I’ll be right back with your salad, sir.”
Now there was nothing between them on the white tablecloth except a basket of bread, an unlit candle, and two half-empty beer glasses. Drinks weren’t included with the gift certificate, so James better not be too thirsty. It’s a free meal, she reminded herself. Be grateful. She wouldn’t have come here by herself.
“Why don’t you like fireworks?” she asked, taking a tiny sip of beer and then backhanding away the moustache of fizzy foam it left behind.
“I like fireworks just fine. But I try not to step onto Inn property.”
Where did he go for beers after work? The fish shack down on the ferry pier, she realized. Mack had a fridge in there, supposedly for bait, and she’d spotted a few guys hanging out after hours.
“Parker’s been stepping all over West Brenton,” James was saying. “Aided and abetted by your boss.”
“And not giving him your business is gonna stop that?”
“No. But there’s a meeting at my house tomorrow night that might. I’m organizing a sit-in.”
“Really! How totally sixties.” Not even an entire beer, and already her sass was up.
“I thought you said you wanted to help.”
“I do! But a sit-in—it’s just so far off what I was expecting. Weren’t you talking to a lawyer who was going after that land trust takeover?”
“Sheila. She’s awesome.” He actually smiled. “This is her idea, actually—I never would’ve thought of it.”
His salad arrived, and James shoveled lettuce into his mouth with the same speed and focus that he ate his daily bagel at the Bean.
Shana came back to light their candle, and around the edge of the patio lights flickered on. Days were already getting shorter, she realized.
“I don’t quite get why you’re in charge,” she said.
James paused, the last forkful of lettuce halfway to his mouth. “What do you mean?”
“Isn’t this something a mayor should—”
“Our esteemed mayor stopped by my house yesterday to ask if my mother could help out at the school. She died just over two years ago.”
“Yikes. I didn’t realize he was that out of it.”
“Most of the time, he’s fine.”
“Except when he’s mistaking me for his late wife.”
“You do look a little bit like her. Same eyes.” Pushing away his empty salad plate, James pressed that left thumb against his scar again. Even in the dimming light, Courtney could see his ears reddening. “So what brought you up this way, anyway? Helluva long way from the Eastern Shore of Maryland.”
“Long way, and a long story.”
“I’ve got time—I hear the service here is terrible.” He met her gaze at last, and she caught a trace of smile before he hid it behind his beer.
“Well. . . okay. So, my father was in charge of the Oxford ferry for forty years—he took over from his father. Last August they made him get a complete physical, and of course he flunked the eye test—his sight had been going south for quite a while. I’d basically been running the ferry, so I thought I’d just take over as captain. But I didn’t actually have a license. So they brought in—”
“Ah—show-stopper for sure. These days, with computers knowing everything, the owners wouldn’t dare risk it.”
“Yeah. So I went and got my license, but that took almost six months and by then it was January, so nobody was hiring—and besides, the new guy had been bringing ’em coffee every morning since the ferry stopped running in November, so they said they didn’t need me anymore.” Courtney had actually gone a little apeshit, right there in that tiny office. But James didn’t need to know that part. She grabbed a piece of bread from the basket and tried to tear it in half. “Damn—stale bread? With a bakery right down the road?”
James looked away, out toward the horizon. “Barb hasn’t been keeping up with demand. Not since—”
“Not since you dumped her.”
“What do you know about that?”
“Only what I’ve heard on the deck of the Bean. Which actually doesn’t sound anything like you.”
“What, you don’t think I’m capable of dumping anyone?”
“Not at all. But after living with someone for ten years, I don’t think you’d just walk away and—”
“Ten years! More like two. Or three, maybe—”
“But who’s counting, right? Shee-it, what nerve you guys have! Love ’em and leave ’em, even on an island the size of a goddamn pea.”
James was pressing at that scar again. “For your information, she threw me out.”
“Not according to Barb.”
“Oh, so you two’ve been having heart-to-hearts?”
It was Courtney’s turn to look out at the horizon. “Actually, Mayor Frank was the one who told me what she said.”
“That’s just perfect! It was his gossiping that caused the whole shit show.” James threw down his already crumpled paper napkin, but when it blew off the table he had to lean down to pick it up again, which completely spoiled the whole jilted-lover look.
Courtney tamped down a giggle. “Want to tell me what really happened?”
James shrugged. “I got fired, so she threw me out.”
“Because you were fired? She wouldn’t—”
“Why do you care so much about this?”
“Because we’re friends now, remember? This is what friends do— ask the hard questions.”
He looked away, and she thought he’d just keep silent. Instead he muttered to the field beyond the edge of the patio, “Barb’s brother died of an overdose, so she’s. . . sensitive, about drugs. Mayor Frank got up to her house before I did, and he’s such a drama queen his version made me sound like a pusher. When all I was doing was delivering some relief to a dying man.”
“Ah. That makes a lot more sense.” She downed the last of her beer—damn. What was she going to drink with her fish and chips?
“Joe says I should go apologize,” he mumbled.
“To Barb? I agree.”
“Even though she’s the one who threw me out?” Those eyebrows scrunched together into one fuzzy caterpillar, and the eyes underneath darkened. “Tossed all my clothes out onto the goddamn road?”
“She was hurt! And you’re the island equivalent of a big man on campus, so it probably felt like everyone was taking your side.”
“My side! Everyone on the whole goddamn island was spreading rumors about what—”
“If you don’t talk, everyone just fills in the—”
“Can I get the lady another beer?”
“Yes. Me too,” James said, handing both pint glasses to Shana.
Ah, what the hell. This discussion needed all the lubrication it could get.
“Since we’re talking about that lovely day,” James said, “I’ve got a question for you. How’d you find out the captain’s job was open? Lloyd couldn’t’ve advertised—it happened too fast.”
“Back in March, I sent a letter to the owners of all ferries under a hundred tons up and down the East Coast,” she explained. “Mr. Wainwright was the only one who responded.”
“When?”
“Does it matter?”
“Not now,” he replied. “At the time, I figured he must’ve had you on retainer.”
“I wish!” Courtney laughed. “He called one afternoon out of the blue, said he needed me the next day, so I got in my car and—oh man, that looks great.”
Their food arrived, closely followed by two fresh beers. Courtney dug into her fish and chips; just what the doctor ordered to soak up the alcohol. She tried not to clean her plate before James polished off his steak; fortunately he ate fast too.
Once they’d finished, she asked him how she could help with the sit-in.
“First I need to make sure the islanders all agree.”
“Why wouldn’t they? It’s to save the island!”
“That’s how you see it. Imagine what a steady stream of golfers and their credit cards would do for the grocery store. And the gallery. Never mind this ridiculous—”
“That’s exactly how my home town got ruined. The commissioners voted to let some big-ass developer expand because he promised more jobs and more tax revenue. Now they’ve privatized an entire peninsula, built this exclusive resort where we used to go crabbing when I was little. All that’s left for the rest of us is an overcrowded town full of tourists in the summer. And, of course, a whole bunch of no work in the—”
“G-good evening, Captain Courtney! And—James. Quite a surprise. How w-was your meal?” Parker Dane touched Courtney’s left shoulder, but his smile was focused across the table.
James was pushing at that scar again. Jagged-edged head wound— must’ve bled a lot. Like a bastuhd, as Billy would say. What was stressing him out now? Parker calling her “captain” but not him, maybe? Or maybe James didn’t like being caught eating at this “ridiculous” inn. She’d put him in an awkward position, she realized.
“Was that cod in the fish and chips?” Courtney asked, to redirect Parker’s attention.
“I’m n-not sure,” the innkeeper replied. “Chef Gretchen uses whatever f-fish she has extra, just like the old t-timers. I’m glad you enjoyed it,” Parker added, picking up their empty glasses. “Another round?”
“Sure,” said James, just as Courtney said “No thanks.”
James set down his glass again. “We’ll take the bill, then.” Like he was the host—or couldn’t stand another moment of her company.
But they’d been having such a nice conversation!
“Oh, didn’t you s-save room for d-dessert?” Parker smiled at him, man to man. “Gretchen’s been p-perfecting her flan. Think about it, I’ll be b-back in a m-moment.”
Before James could respond, Parker flitted off to the next table and picked up a wine bottle to divide what remained in it between two glasses.
Courtney loved flan. But she didn’t want to torture James—no more than she already had, anyway.
“How long has Parker owned this place?” Courtney asked, to distract herself from the mouthwatering thought of dessert. “He’s obviously not a local.”
“Bought it two years ago, right after the crash,” James said. Adding, with a sigh, “Apparently Lloyd is his primary backer.”
“Mr. Wainwright? Why would he invest in a place like this?” Goosebumps formed on her arms; the air was cooling, fast.
“He’s always wanted this hill for himself. Just like his grandfather.”
The guy who’d set fire to the Wampum building, Courtney remembered. “Why did so many of the Narragansetts move ashore?”
“Couldn’t support their families,” he replied, like it should’ve been obvious. “Hunting and fishing doesn’t cut it anymore. And a lot of ’em got talked ashore by Pierce, when he started his stupid church.”
“Pierce?”
“Mavis and Joe’s brother.”
“Joe sounds like a really cool guy.”
James looked west again, toward that monument—or maybe toward the bluffs that hid West Harbor from view. “I don’t know what Mavis and their mother will do, once he. . .”
“Did you save room for dessert?” Their server asked, reaching for their plates.
This time, Courtney managed to speak first. “Could you bring the bill?”
“Oh, Mr. Dane tells me there’s absolutely no charge for tonight,” the girl said cheerily. “Though I’d be ever so grateful if you leave a tip anyway! Come back and see us again soon.”
Not bloody likely—even if they hadn’t used up that stupid gift certificate. And any server who blatantly asked for a tip didn’t deserve one.
James must’ve agreed, because he stood up too and followed Courtney across the patio to the gravel drive. Retrieved his bike from where he’d dropped it in the grass. “So you’ll be there for the meeting tomorrow night?”
“Um, I guess—if it’s not just for locals.”
“We’re all out of our comfort zone on this one,” he responded, swinging a leg over the cracked leather seat. “Oh—and thanks for supper,” he tossed back over his shoulder, already biking away.
He was almost to the top of the drive when she called after him. “Where’s the meeting?”
“Malloy house.”
Like she knew where the hell that was.
As soon as she got away from the Inn’s lights, the stars winked like they were all in on the same secret. Small clouds darted across the sky, propelled by a wind aloft that hadn’t made it all the way down to the island.
Letting herself into the cottage, Courtney found herself smiling. Despite the mediocre service and awkwardness, that had actually been fun. And, even though a sit-in was the stupidest idea ever, James was finally getting off his ass to do something.