Gilly arrived back at Read early, with time to spare before she crossed over to Quadra to pick up her son. She pulled her boat up to the kitchen side of Carl and Stephanie’s place to have a word with Stephanie.
“Hey, Gilly, come on in,” Stephanie said as she greeted her at the door. “Keep your boots on, though. You’ll need them.”
Keeping gumboots on was a good idea. That part of the house was sinking the most. The cast iron cook stove and the cast iron airtight for heating were located in the kitchen, so it was the heaviest room. Water slopped up between the floorboards from time to time, wakes from passing boats or even just small waves from the wind. Stephanie’s blind old beagle snuffled along the floor, looking for anything that might have fallen off the counter. Occasionally some water splashed up and the snuffling turned to more of a gargle.
“Yeah, it’s really gotten worse since the last time I was here, eh?” said Gilly.
“I’m not holding my breath, but Carl finally agreed to replace the old log float. I think the water was finally getting to his study.”
“Well, that’s a start anyway.” Gilly was always something of an optimist. “And, speaking of starts, you know that guy at the resort you told me about, Nelson? He said he’d keep me on standby and he might be able to give me some hours this summer.”
“Oh, that’s great. The way you catch fish, there should be no problem with getting work up there. It’s just being able to deal with the people you get in your boat. You know they’re going to have doubts about you being a woman. At least until you get a couple of nice ones in the fish box.”
“I’ve got two in the boat right now. Do you still have any of the Time Warp from last summer’s crop? I’d consider a trade—some of the new and improved Time Warp for one of them?”
“I do have some left,” said Stephanie. “We have one of those airtight sealing appliances, like they use at the resorts to preserve the salmon. Works great to keep the dried weed fresh for a long time.”
After a quick trip out to the boat for an inspection of the salmon, they reached a deal. One fish was definitely worth two lids of the best dried flowers. Stephanie unscrewed the lid of a can of rolling tobacco. She measured two lids of the best flowers into a bag.
“So, a new float,” mused Gilly as she watched Stephanie do a final inspection of the preserved flowering tops. “That’s going to be a lot of work. When do you think it’s going to start? I mean, looks like now would be good.”
Another wave slopped through the floor and the beagle sneezed wetly.
“There’s still a lot of planning to do. There are just so many details you have to keep track of. Which reminds me—Hey, Carl! Carl, honey!” Stephanie yelled loud enough to be heard in the study, from which came a muffled reply.
“Did you get a chance to look at the pins we talked about? You know, the ones to hold the skid logs, underneath the house? Remember, we talked about whether or not the logs were pinned in place?”
She had to repeat herself a couple of times before she was understood.
Carl finally yelled back, “Dave’s here. He’s going to spend the night. I can check it out tomorrow when he’s gone.”
“Who’s Dave?” asked Gilly. She knew most of the people who lived on Read.
“He’s one of the independent guides up at Stuart. You’ll meet him if you’re going to be up there. He’s a nice enough kind of guy, but you know, maybe a little pompous. Most of the younger guides call him Mr. Giblin.”