ONCE SHE AND JERROD had settled into a couple of chairs in a quiet corner of the lobby, Dawn pulled out her notebook and pen. “I’m ready to work,” she said.
“Is that really a pen? And actual paper, too?” Jerrod asked. “How old school of you.”
She tapped the end of the pen against her temple. “Maybe so, but this is where it all begins. The computer folders and files and spreadsheets are launched in phase two.” She grinned. “I just made that up.”
Suddenly, she wished she’d accepted Jerrod’s offer of coffee. She could have used something to distract her from the man himself. She’d found him online, of course, and Jerrod had looked very good in his website photo. But it didn’t do him justice. Not even close. She guessed him to be around her age, maybe closer to forty, as opposed to her thirty-six. His almost-black hair showed no hint of gray to match his penetrating, but solemn gray eyes. Because of the nature of his business, she expected a guy with weathered, rugged looks. His open, unlined face had immediately thrown her at first. The tall, lean man in a fisherman’s knit sweater and jeans would have looked at home in a courtroom or maybe a classroom.
She’d come into the meeting wary, because a few red flags already waved and grabbed her attention. The oddly outdated website. Articles posted there were at least three years old. He had no active social media. Despite his up-to-date appearance, his promotion plan, such as it was, came out of the last decade. She hadn’t done a complete search. That could wait, but still, it was a little strange.
Jerrod leaned forward and rested his forearms on his knees. “Why don’t I fill you in on the background of the business?”
She nodded, eager to stop thinking about how appealing he was and get down to the nitty-gritty of the meeting. For the next few minutes, she took notes about his fifteen-year-old business, headquartered in Key West, but sometimes working from outposts in St. Thomas and even as far away as Thailand.
“And you want to expand into the fairly small shipwreck diving market in the Great Lakes?” Dawn asked. Somehow, Two Moon Bay seemed an odd place to branch out, especially for someone with his extensive experience in tropical waters.
“I’ll be honest with you, Dawn, it’s an experiment. I…uh…lost my wife a couple of years ago, which led to cutting back my role in the business. My diving guides and the crew carried on at our home base in Florida. They kept us going. But I’ve recommitted to the business and I’m responsible for launching the changes it needs.”
That sounded reasonable enough, except…what? Why Wisconsin, why the Lakes? “Moving your company to the chilly Great Lakes is a big change. Especially for shipwreck diving,” she said. “It certainly exists up my way, but the summers are pretty short.”
“True, but my hometown is Erie, Pennsylvania. I grew up on the water.”
Dawn spent the next several minutes scribbling background information about the stories Jerrod grew up on, including his great-grandfather’s life on barges and ore boats on the lakes.
“Even as a kid I was caught up in the image of shipping in the area. My dad always said it was part of settling the whole country and making us rich.” Jerrod raised his hands in the air for emphasis.
“Well, when you put it like that,” Dawn said in a wry tone, noting the change in his expression. Finally, she’d managed to bring a smile to his face.
“I was fascinated with shipwrecks, too, which is why they’ve figured into the kind of diving business my wife and I created.”
My wife and I created. A partnership based on adventure? He’d piqued her curiosity. The more Jerrod talked, the more Dawn’s vision of a PR program for him expanded to include interviews and speaking engagements. Only a few of her clients were good media guests and public speakers. Jerrod might be one of them. His deep voice was matched with an easy manner of bantering back and forth. She was certain he could handle interviews and speeches. He already was a walking encyclopedia of the shipwrecks in Lake Michigan. But he’d be even better if more enjoyment or happiness came through. Hmm…she couldn’t coach that.
“So, do you think you can help me?” Jerrod asked. “I know I still have loose ends, but I’ll do what it takes to kick-start the season.”
And it would take a major push. Dawn liked the sense of bubbling excitement inside her. She’d asked for a challenge. Jerrod’s business was certainly that.
“Fortunately, I’ve got experienced diving guides and crew. You’ll get to know them, but they handle a lot of the desk work, the customer service end. Also, Wyatt is one of my instructors and guides, but she’s willing to help me create a new website.”
Wyatt, a woman, Dawn wrote in the margin on her page, along with notes about Jerrod’s short-term plans. It was only a matter of days before he and his crew would arrive in Two Moon Bay.
“Until I nail down the summer housing situation,” Jerrod said, “we’ll be staying in a place called, if you can believe it, The Sleepy Moon Inn.”
Amused, Dawn said, “Of course I believe it. The Sleepy Moon Inn is the town’s newest hotel.” She cocked her head. “You see, we have a law that you have to refer to the moon in any business name in town.”
“Kind of like Hemingway and Key West.”
She nodded. “Exactly. As it happens, though, the Half Moon Café is one of the best restaurants in town. Don’t write it off as a tourist trap.” Dawn gathered her thoughts. She had a hunch Jerrod might misunderstand Two Moon Bay. “Visitors give the place a chance because of its obvious theme, but as you’ll see, they stay or come back because they like the kind of town it is. It was once a fishing haven, but now it’s a tourist hub that local people enjoy.” She could have listed a few points, but she’d wait until he was in town and let him see for himself. Or not.
“I’ll remember that,” Jerrod said, his expression warm and thoughtful.
Dawn shifted in her chair and went back to her notes, a feeble attempt to quell her rising excitement about the prospects of working with Jerrod. He was a mystery, though. Details were sketchy about the last couple of years since he’d lost his wife. His business had continued. Barely, even by his own admission.
“If Wyatt has any trouble nailing down the housing you need, let me know,” she said. “I have a couple of friends who might be able to offer suggestions.”
He nodded his thanks. “Speaking of that, what do you think I need to get my venture off the ground, even this late? Give me the bare bones.”
A dizzying number of ideas raced through her head. Since anything she said could be altered later, she tapped her pen on the notepad and began reading from her hastily scribbled list, starting with brochures right up to an attempt to start up a social media campaign.
“You’re a natural for a blog. There’s the basic allure of shipwrecks.” She looked up from her notes. “You know what I mean. Barnacled ships and colorful fish.”
He rolled his eyes. “You’re a poet, huh? I’m going to steal that last line and use it somewhere.”
“I guess it came out that way, didn’t it?” Barnacled ships and colorful fish indeed!
“One of the best things we do on our day tours is take guests back in time, give them a sense of history,” Jerrod said. “We’ve done well with both the diving and the day trips because they satisfy natural curiosity about the past.”
It struck Dawn that other than laughing at her poetic line and the occasional faint smile, his expression didn’t change much. Still, despite the serious—cerebral—way he’d approached their meeting, Dawn had no trouble envisioning Jerrod running a group dive or narrating a tour. Thinking of Two Moon Bay, she easily pictured him in the reception hall at the yacht club after a talk. She wrote a reminder to touch base with her contacts at yacht clubs and libraries throughout the peninsula. They were always looking for people who could do programs about local history or lore or things going on in the area.
When Kym first mentioned Jerrod, Dawn knew she was capable of promoting a diving excursion business without being drawn to scuba diving herself. She had no intention of sampling the diving excursions. Not on her life. But so far, nothing Jerrod had said about his business made her doubt her ability to do a good job for him.
Jerrod pointed to her notebook. “So, you got enough out of my rambling to organize a PR program?”
“Absolutely. Especially since you realize you’re off to a late start. Typically, I’d have started planning to establish a business like yours last fall, January at the latest. Oh, I can pull a few strings with editors and advertising departments and call in a favor or two.” She shrugged. “I bring local publications a fair amount of business.”
“I get it,” Jerrod said, staring out into the lobby. “It’s good to be so well connected.”
Dawn followed his gaze, but she saw he wasn’t staring at anything in particular. He had lost himself in his own world of thought. But when she caught a glimpse of his watch, she jolted into high alert. She stuffed her notebook in her bag and scooted to the edge of the chair. If his watch was right, she barely had enough time to get to Union Station.
“I’m sorry to cut this short.” She stood and grabbed her coat. “I should have checked the time, but I got caught up in all the ideas popping in my brain. We’ll need to finish this on the phone. Right now, I need to hustle to catch my train—it leaves in about twenty-five minutes.”
“So sorry, Dawn,” he said, getting to his feet. “My questions kept coming up nonstop, and I never thought about the time.”
As they hurried through the lobby to the revolving doors, Dawn saw Jerrod pull cash from his pocket and assumed it was to tip the doorman. She started to protest that she could handle the tip herself, but she didn’t bother. She was impressed that he’d thought of it.
“I’ll call you tomorrow to discuss details,” Jerrod said after he told the doorman they needed two cabs. “We never got to your fee, but we can settle that in the morning. We’re planning to move into The Sleepy Moon Inn by the end of the week.” He held out his hand. “So, can we shake on a deal, and tomorrow we’ll finalize our terms?”
Running late or not, Dawn stifled a strong urge to dance a jig right there on the sidewalk in front of the hotel. Instead, she took his outstretched hand. It was reassuring and he held it firmly for just the right amount of time. She was thrilled to have a new project. No, not any project, this one. With him. Her conference fee and the hefty hotel bill had paid off. But it wasn’t only about the money. Jerrod himself had an intriguing air about him. Not the warm-and-fuzzy type, maybe, but worldly and serious.
When a taxi pulled up, the doorman opened the back seat door for her while Jerrod rolled her suitcase to the car so the driver could put it in the trunk. When he reappeared, he put his hand to his ear as if holding a phone and again said, “I’ll call you.” He backed away and waved.
As the cab pulled away from the curb, she checked the dashboard clock. Only twenty minutes until her train pulled out of Union Station. Why hadn’t she paid attention? Because she’d been stimulated and focused, her brain occupied with ticking off ideas. The ability to block out distractions was one of her strengths. It served her well, except when it backfired. Like now.
Why was the cab creeping along, coming to a full stop, then swerving out from behind one bus and then another? It was Sunday, after all, not rush hour on a Monday morning. Suddenly anxious, she repeated familiar clichés in her mind about worrying being useless, a waste of time. But her self-talk was a bigger waste of time. She went right back to willing the cab to speed up. The driver threaded through streets at normal speed when possible, but slammed on the brakes when he couldn’t run a yellow light or was forced to a sudden stop because a pair of red rear lights appeared perilously close.
It wasn’t the driver’s or Jerrod’s fault. It was hers alone. When the cab pulled up to the curb in front of Union Station, she reached into her pocket and brought out cash, but the driver waved his index finger back and forth. “No, no, no.” In his lilting accent, he told her the gentleman at the hotel had paid the fare.
When had he done that? Must have been when he rolled her suitcase to the trunk. With theatrical flourish, the driver lifted her suitcase from the trunk like it was a bag of feathers and wheeled it to the revolving door. He touched his fingertips to his cap and hurried back to his cab before she could tip him. Jerrod must have taken care of that, too.
She rushed into the station and onto the escalator. On the lower level, she checked for the track number on the departure board and broke into a jog. She picked up even more speed as she passed the deserted glassed-off waiting area. When she got to a set of double doors, she saw the track, as empty as the waiting room. And what could she expect? She was nearly ten minutes late. Stopping in place, she let out a loud sigh.
“Was that your train?” a man in an Amtrak uniform called out from a few tracks away.
“It sure was. I just missed it.”
He walked toward her, his expression sympathetic. “The next one leaves in two hours.”
Offering a weak smile in return, she muttered, “Thanks. I’ll be sure to be on it.”
She dreaded having to call her ex-husband, but she had no choice. He and his wife, Carla, were expecting her, but she’d be delayed now. Gordon, at thirteen, wouldn’t care. He was happy enough with spending time with Dad. Bill wouldn’t mind, either. But Carla? That could be another story.
It took only a minute to get Bill on the phone to deliver the bad news. “Long story short, I missed my train. Traffic downtown was heavier than usual. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I’ll be a couple of hours late picking up Gordon.”
“Okay, no problem,” Bill said, his voice friendly as usual. “We’ll see you when you get here.”
Easy enough. She exhaled and the anxiety dissipated in an instant. She nearly laughed out loud. “Thanks. I really am sorry.”
“Oh, wait…hang on a minute,” he said.
She heard two voices, but Bill was obviously trying to muffle the sound, so she couldn’t understand what was being said.
“Uh, Carla wanted me to ask if you’re certain you’ll get here tonight,” Bill said when he came back on the line.
She wouldn’t let her irritation bleed through. “I’ll be there, Bill. I had planned everything pretty much down to the minute. But the plan went awry. I can explain when I get there.”
“It’s just that Zinnie has been fussy the last few days. Carla thinks she’s teething. Gordon’s spent most of his time making faces to try to distract her.”
“Sounds nice, Bill,” she whispered. Unwittingly, he’d painted a simple picture of what was going on in his house, and she envied it all out of proportion. “Like I said, I’m sorry.”
Why was she eating humble pie? Their arrangements almost always revolved around Carla, especially with the new baby. Not so new. She was already ten months old. And probably crawling into everything, Dawn thought, trying to be fair. But when it came to Bill and Carla, nothing seemed fair.
When she ended the call, Dawn walked to the waiting room and tried to recapture the excitement of the conference, especially winning an award. It was the first time she’d been recognized for work by her colleagues in the public relations industry. To top it off, she’d landed a new client, who also happened to be an interesting, attractive man. Well, more than that. Bringing his face to mind, movie star handsome seemed to fit. She gave her head a little chastising shake. Stop, stop it right now.
She opened her tablet and began transferring her handwritten notes and sprinkling in the new ideas springing into her head. She started a separate file for her estimates of Jerrod’s initial expenses, mainly the cost of the ads and his brochures. She sent an email to Ian Shepherd, the photographer she’d used for her fitness center client. She was crossing her fingers that he had some free hours in his schedule. He had a great eye for design and he’d done brochures for sleek sailboats, too.
The email to Ian sent, Dawn indulged in a grumpy sigh. She’d been “on” all weekend, but she’d run out of steam. Missing the train and the obligatory apology to Bill left her deflated. But then her thoughts flipped back to her meeting with Jerrod in the hotel lobby. He had such serious gray eyes, but they occasionally surprised her with flashes of warmth. Sure, he’d been all business in demeanor, but she’d enjoyed the easy way he answered her questions. And he’d showed hints of passion about his life on the water. Like it was a calling, not only a business. But what had happened to his wife, she wondered, and would he tell her?
When her thoughts circled back to the present, the letdown returned, particularly when it came to Bill and his cozy new life. He’d left her four years ago, announcing it one cold January night after what Dawn had naively believed were their best holidays ever, starting with the huge Thanksgiving open house for a few dozen family and friends and ending with a quiet New Year’s Eve spent with their next-door neighbors and their three kids.
No wonder she was surprised that night when Bill said he needed to talk. She’d only been mildly concerned when they sat down together at the kitchen table, because she’d assumed his mood had something to do with office politics. But, not wasting a second, Bill opened their conversation by saying, “I want a divorce.”
She froze in place, stunned and silent. When she at last found her voice the first words she uttered were, “But we’ve been talking about having a baby. A couple of weeks ago. In the car. It was Christmas Eve.”
Bill had run his fingers through his prematurely gray hair and did her the courtesy of confirming their conversation about a second child wasn’t a figment of her imagination. In fact, her desire to have another baby was why he considered it imperative to own up to what had happened. He’d fallen in love with Carla, a colleague at the insurance company where he worked as an actuary. He was sorry, he’d said. So sorry.
Right.
Dawn had descended into crushing grief, but ultimately worked through it and moved on with a vengeance, starting with her business. In the first twelve months of living as a single mom, she’d doubled her business income. In the second twelve months, she’d begun dating. Mixed results for sure, including with Chip, the man she’d hoped could be her second chance. At first, he’d claimed to be enthusiastic about having a child if their relationship blossomed, but he showed zero interest in Gordon. Not exactly stepdad material. She’d collected all the warning signs she needed, but it still hurt to give up on what at the beginning seemed like a promising relationship.
Sitting alone in the waiting room at the train station, she tried mightily to ignore those thoughts. For all her so-called adjustment to life after her difficult divorce, Dawn hadn’t allowed herself to think that Bill and Carla would have a baby of their own. Why had that been so difficult to accept?
As if she didn’t know.
Carla was living the life she’d wanted—expected—for herself. That was the heartbreaking truth. It was as if an imposter had stepped in and taken over Dawn’s life.
Tired of sitting, she stood and slung the attaché over her shoulder and left the waiting room. Still an hour to go. She needed to move, walk, observe, absorb. She wouldn’t lift her mood sitting alone, thinking about little teething Zinnie.