Читать книгу Tides of Hope - Irene Hannon, Irene Hannon - Страница 11

“I have to run a couple of errands, Barlow. I’ll be back in an hour.”

Ben looked up from his desk and grinned at the commander, who was standing in the doorway. “No problem. I’ve got it covered.”

“There’s not much to cover. It’s a pretty quiet Monday.”

“Enjoy it while it lasts. Once the day-trippers and summer people arrive, you won’t have a minute to call your own. You won’t believe some of the calls we get. Last year, some guy forgot to install his drain plug and ended up sinking his boat.”

A smile tugged at Craig’s lips. “I can’t wait.”

“Trust me. You can.”

His smile lingering, Craig took advantage of the springlike weather and headed down Easton Street on foot. From what he’d gleaned about his predecessor, Sandra Medart had had a high profile on the island. Most Nantucketers had known her on sight, and both locals and crew had liked and respected her. She’d initiated a popular boating safety program, attended all community events and maintained an open-door policy, encouraging anyone with marine-based concerns to come directly to her. According to Barlow, she’d excelled at the PR aspect of the job.

To date, he’d done little to emulate her example. Now that he had his sea legs, however, he figured it was time to show his face in the community. And a walk through town wouldn’t be a bad place to start.

Turning onto South Beach Street, it took him mere minutes to reach the heart of the historic town, with its cobblestone streets and labyrinth of tiny lanes. He knew his dark blue slacks and matching shirt, with the twin silver bars on the collar that signaled his rank, would identify him at a glance as the new commander, and as he strolled around he drew more than a few curious looks. Only year-rounders populated the quiet town center on this early April Monday, and when he nodded and smiled in response to their discreet perusal, several approached to welcome him.

Forty-five minutes later, after grabbing a paper at The Hub and stopping at a few other spots Barlow had identified as local hangouts, he headed down Main Street toward the harbor. After three short blocks, the cobblestones of the town’s primary thoroughfare merged with Straight Wharf, where many of the commercial boats were docked.

The Lucy Sue among them.

Pausing at the entrance to the wharf, Craig debated his next move. As he’d left the station, he’d tucked the original copy of Katherine MacDonald’s citation in his pocket. But the matter didn’t require his personal attention; he could send one of his crew members later to handle the resolution of such a minor violation.

Except it wasn’t minor to Ms. MacDonald. She’d made that very clear. And as long as he was in the area, he supposed he ought to stop by and see if he could smooth things out—all in the interest of good PR, of course. Why else would he put himself in the path of the human hurricane?

A few reasons popped to mind, but he quickly squelched them. Despite appealing green eyes that flashed with life and passion, despite the intriguing juxtaposition of a delicate physical appearance with a strong character, despite vibrant hair that sparked with every movement, only a masochist would want to deal with her temper.

He was here on business. Period.

His decision made, Craig strode past the shuttered souvenir shops. Within minutes he found the Lucy Sue, gently rocking in her slip on the wharf. There was no sign of the red-haired skipper—or anyone else. No surprise there, he supposed, considering most owners wintered their boats on the mainland. Those who didn’t spent little time aboard in the off season.

What did surprise him was the flutter of disappointment in the pit of his stomach. Where in the world had that come from? Last night he’d found himself looking forward to their next encounter, and today he was seeking her out. Logic told him he should be going out of his way to avoid another exchange with the argumentative captain.

But for some reason he wasn’t.

Rather than try to analyze his odd reaction, he propped his fists on his hips and surveyed the boat at close range. He knew from the citation that the Lucy Sue was an older model, but he hadn’t realized how old. She had to have been built twenty or twenty-five years ago, he estimated. Yet she was well maintained. He saw no evidence of barnacles below the water line, nor any indication of oxidation topside, suggesting the fiberglass hull was polished and waxed on a regular basis. The deck was stain-free, and the teak trim had been varnished rather than allowed to weather to whitish-gray. The finish looked fresh, too, free of obvious chips or scuffs. It was clear a lot of elbow grease had gone into keeping the boat in tip-top condition.

While everything he could see was cosmetic, Craig knew that anyone who took such meticulous care of the appearance of a boat was likely to be as diligent about mechanical maintenance—and safety. In light of the number of charter slips, he also concluded that Ms. MacDonald hadn’t been exaggerating about the competition. Two good reasons why the flare citation had upset her.

And based on the traces of worry and sorrow he’d glimpsed in her eyes as she’d squared off with him across his desk on Friday, the last thing she needed in her life was more stress.

Craig couldn’t erase the events that had led to that emotional confrontation. But if she’d followed through and replaced the flares, as she’d promised, disposing of the citation in his pocket was going to be his top priority this afternoon.

What was the Coast Guard commander doing at the Lucy Sue?

Kate’s step faltered as she turned a corner on Straight Wharf and caught sight of the tall officer standing beside her boat. The last thing she wanted was another skirmish with the line-toeing lieutenant.

For a few heartbeats she considered retreating. His back was to her, giving her a good view of his broad shoulders as he looked over the Lucy Sue. She could disappear before he noticed her.

But running from problems didn’t solve them. If he’d decided to let the citation stand, she might as well get the bad news now rather than later. And his presence suggested the news was bad rather than good. Why else would he come in person, except to turn the tables and wield his authority by scuttling her request? After the way she’d treated him in their previous encounters, she couldn’t blame him if he took advantage of the opportunity to put her in her place.

Her shoulders slumped a fraction, and she shifted the bag she was toting from one arm to the other. Then she forced her feet to carry her forward, her sport shoes noiseless on the wharf. She stopped a few feet away from the grim reaper and drew a fortifying breath.

“Planning to do another inspection, Lieutenant?” She’d intended to keep her tone neutral, but a touch of defiance crept in.

He swung toward her, his features etched with surprise. And some other emotion she couldn’t identify.

“That wasn’t on my agenda.”

“Following up on the one already done, then.”

“Yes. I was in town anyway and thought I’d drop by.”

“I got the flares.” She edged passed him on the finger pier, juggling the bag as she prepared to board.

“Let me hold that for you.” He took the sack from her before she could protest, glancing at the package of spark plugs on top. “Engine problems?”

Rather than give him a direct answer, she swung into the boat and reached for the bag. “I’m always prepared.”

“You do your own maintenance?”

“Most of it. My neighbor helps me on the trickier things. And speaking of being prepared, let me show you the new flares.” She ducked into the cabin, retrieved the flares and rejoined him thirty seconds later on the wharf. “As you’ll see, I’m covered for the new season.” She handed them over, annoyed once again at the defensive note that had crept into her voice. For the life of her she couldn’t manage a pleasant tone with this man.

The lieutenant took the flares in silence, scanned the expiration dates and handed them back. “Everything seems to be in order.”

Tipping his head, he folded his arms across his chest. His powerful, well-developed chest, Kate couldn’t help noticing, her gaze dropping in the direction of the name tag on his shirt pocket.

“So what happens next?” She forced her chin back up, toward eyes as blue as the ocean on a sunny Nantucket summer day. Tensing, she braced for bad news.

He reached into the pocket of his slacks and withdrew the original citation, which had been folded into neat, precise squares. Watching her, he tore it into small pieces, disposing of them in a trash can a few steps away.

Her eyes widened. “Does that mean…are you going to expunge it from my record?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Your request was reasonable. Even if you weren’t.” He gave her an assessing look, a touch of amusement sparking in his irises. “Do you always overreact when you’re angry?”

It was a fair, but incendiary, question, and she stiffened. “I’ve been told I don’t suffer fools gladly.”

He cocked one eyebrow but remained silent.

You idiot! Kate chided herself, hot color stealing onto her cheeks. The man has just done you a huge favor, and you insult him instead of thanking him? How ungracious is that?

Swallowing past her embarrassment, Kate shoved her hands into the front pockets of her jeans. “Look, can we start over?”

“That might not be a bad idea.”

“Okay. Good. The thing is, I appreciate your consideration. I’m sure you noticed the Lucy Sue is an older model. It’s not as jazzy as most of the other charter boats, nor does it have all the bells and whistles. A clean safety record is a selling point I can use in my advertising to help me compete. Without it…” She shook her head and shrugged.

“My executive petty officer tells me you’ve been at this a while, Ms. MacDonald.”

The wind whipped a lock of hair across her cheek, and she tucked it behind her ear. “Yes. My father-in-law started the business. He retired and passed it on to me and my husband when we married. But I’ve been fishing my whole life.” She moistened her lips as she considered whether to extend an olive branch, then decided it couldn’t hurt. “By the way, my friends call me Kate.”

She noted the flicker of surprise in his eyes, as well as the twitch that tugged at the corner of his mouth. “As in Kiss Me, Kate?”

At the mention of the Cole Porter musical based on Shakespeare’s Taming of the Shrew, Kate grimaced. “I suppose that’s a fair question in light of our relationship to date. And I apologize for my bad temper. You hit me on a rough couple of days. Believe it or not, despite my red hair I usually stay on a pretty even keel.”

The skeptical tilt of his head brought a rueful smile to her lips.

“I don’t blame you for doubting that claim. But it’s true, Lieutenant.”

He returned her smile. “The name is Craig. And I suppose I’ll find out the truth for myself if our paths cross again.”

“I expect they will on occasion. It’s not a very big island. Unless you continue to be the invisible man.”

A puzzled frown creased his brow. “The what?”

Grinning, she shoved her hands deeper into the pockets of her jeans. “The invisible man. That’s what the locals are calling you. You’ve hardly shown your face in public.”

“I’ve been busy getting up to speed at the station. But I’ll be more visible in the community in the future.”

“I’m sure everyone will look forward to that.”

He shot her a speculative glance, as if he was tempted to ask whether she looked forward to it, too. Instead, he smiled and edged back. “In the meantime, a pile of paperwork awaits me.”

“Thank you again for your help with the citation.”

“It was my pleasure, Kate. Take care.” With a wave, he headed toward Main Street.

She watched him leave, liking the sound of her name on his lips, waiting until he disappeared before boarding the Lucy Sue to tackle her chores.

But long after he was gone, she kept replaying their conversation in her mind. For once, it had not only been civil, but enjoyable. And he’d proved to be more flexible than she’d anticipated, bending the rules for her despite the way she’d treated him. In his place, she doubted she would have been so forgiving—or generous.

As she stored her supplies below, Kate was forced to concede that her initial assessment of the commander as a stuffy, rigid, rule follower might have been a little too hasty—and a little too harsh. Still, one cordial exchange wasn’t enough to convince her she’d been entirely wrong about his character. Before she revised her opinion, she’d have to see a whole lot more of him.

And much to her surprise, despite their rocky start and her earlier resolve to avoid him as much as possible, she found that prospect quite appealing.

“I smell cinnamon! Oh, goodie!”

Breaking free of Kate’s grasp, Maddie headed straight for the plate of cinnamon toast waiting for her on the hickory table in Edith’s cozy kitchen, her eyes bright with pleasure.

“I gave her breakfast already, Edith. You didn’t have to do that.” Kate entered her neighbor’s back door at a more sedate pace, stopping two steps into the room.

“I wanted to. I like doing things for people I care about. Have some coffee.”

“I can’t. I’m already running late.”

“You can be at the high school in five minutes. I’ll pour you a cup to go.” Edith retrieved an insulated mug with a lid from the cabinet and lifted the pot from the coffeemaker. “Besides, I wanted to tell you about an interesting experience I had last night.”

The woman’s studied casualness put Kate on alert. “What happened?”

“I met your lieutenant at the market.” She added cream to Kate’s coffee with a quick tip of the pitcher. “I must admit, his manner wasn’t at all what I anticipated based on your description. He was charming.”

Kate’s neck grew warm. “I’ve revised my opinion a bit.”

“Since when?”

“Since he erased the citation from my record yesterday.”

“Did he, now? How interesting.” The older woman secured the lid on the mug and grinned at Kate. “Must have been your charm.”

Kate made a face at her. “Very funny.” Checking her watch, she hoisted her purse higher on her shoulder and changed the subject. “I’ve got to run, Edith. It sets a very bad example when the teachers are tardy. Call me if you have any problems with Maddie.”

“I’ve got the nebulizer routine down if we need it. Don’t worry.”

A shadow of distress tightened Kate’s features. “It’s hard not to.”

“You know what Mac would have said.”

“Yes.” The whisper of a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “‘Don’t look for trouble.’” She leaned over and hugged the gray-haired woman, who was more like family than mere neighbor or friend. “I’m sorry I’ve had to call on you so often this school year. I can’t remember ever being asked to sub this much. But the extra money’s been a godsend.”

Edith waved the comment aside. “I don’t mind in the least. Maddie’s a charmer. And speaking of charmers—the lieutenant fits that definition in my book.”

Once Edith sank her teeth into a topic, she was as hard to shake loose as the island’s notorious deer ticks, Kate reflected. “Like I said, he’s not as bad as I first thought.” She reached for the doorknob.

“He doesn’t think you’re too bad, either, despite your show of temper.”

Kate swung back. “He talked about me?”

“Only after I happened to mention we were neighbors.”

Edith’s innocent expression didn’t fool Kate. There was no happen to about it. When the Lighthouse Lane matron was on a mission, she could be as single-minded as a Nantucket whaler of old in hot pursuit of his quarry. Kate clutched her purse strap as her pulse accelerated. “You didn’t tell him what I said about him, did you?”

“Of course not.” Edith sniffed and gave her an indignant look. “That was between the two of us. I merely mentioned I’d known you for years and that you were a wonderful person—and a hard worker. He said he’d been impressed by your determination and complimented the Lucy Sue. Called her a fine boat, and said you’d taken great care of her.”

“What else did you two talk about?”

“Nothing.” The corners of Edith’s mouth turned down in disgust. “His cell phone rang just as the conversation was getting interesting. Some emergency at the station.”

Expelling a relieved breath, Kate once more hitched her purse into position. “I’ll be back around three-thirty.”

“Bye, Mommy.” Maddie waved and took another huge bite of cinnamon toast.

Smiling, Kate moved beside her daughter to place a quick peck on her cheek. “Be good for Mrs. Shaw, okay?”

“Okay.”

“See you later, Edith.” With a wave, Kate let herself out.

For the next five minutes, as she navigated the maze of narrow streets that led to the school, Kate considered Edith’s chance encounter with the lieutenant. Thank goodness his cell phone had interrupted their conversation, or Edith would have told the commander her neighbor’s life story. The embellished version, Kate suspected.

As it was, Edith had only managed to get in a brief complimentary remark. To which the lieutenant has responded that he’d admired Kate’s determination.

Determination. That was a generous way to describe her approach in their first two altercations, she supposed, considering hostility and rudeness might be more accurate. She should be grateful for his diplomacy.

Yet she found herself wishing he’d been able to find some other quality to admire. Intelligence, strength, vivaciousness, competence…it would have been nice if he’d noticed one of those attributes.

Shaking her head, Kate chided herself for her silly waste of brain power. The lieutenant had wiped her record clean. That was the important thing. It shouldn’t matter what he thought about her.

Yet, much to her annoyance, it did.