Page 24 of Swan Song

“I’m Lamont.” He smiles, and Coco thinks, Definite swipe right. She feels like a Jane Austen character when the heir to the neighboring estate enters the drawing room. Lamont has tawny skin, close-cropped black hair, and a shredded body. He’s wearing Ray-Ban Wayfarers and a belt with a brass buckle shaped like an anchor. He’s part Michael B. Jordan, part JFK Jr.

“So what’s happening here?” he asks.

“We’re stuck,” Kacy says.

Lamont strides over to check out the situation with the Jeep. “You mean you don’t want to be featured in tomorrow’s Nantucket Current because your car got swallowed by the sea?” He laughs. “I got you. I have a tow rope.”

Oh, thank god, thank god. Kacy doesn’t deserve this stroke of luck; whatever price karma exacts from her later, she will happily pay.

Lamont knows what to do. It’s almost as if he grew up driving on this beach, Kacy thinks. He backs up his truck, attaches one end of the tow rope to his trailer hitch and the other end to Kacy’s bumper.

“Get in,” he says. “Put it in reverse. I’ll tell you when to hit the gas.”

Five seconds later, the Jeep is out of danger, back in established tracks, and pointing in the right direction.

“I’m not sure how to thank you,” Kacy says.

“You just did,” Lamont says. “Will you ladies be hanging around for a while?”

Kacy is about to say, No, we have to get home. They avoided disaster, her adrenaline high is fading, and a headache from the wine is setting in. But Coco jumps in: “Yes, we just got here. Are you hungry? We have extra sandwiches, right, Kacy?”

Kacy blinks. “We do. BLT or chicken salad? Don’t say no, it’s the least we can do.”

“Chicken salad would be great, and a very generous payment for services rendered.” Lamont opens a cooler in the bed of his truck. “Would either of you like a beer?”

“I’m good, thanks,” Kacy says. She needs to sober up before she drives home.

“I’d love one,” Coco says.

Lamont hands Coco a frosty can of Whale’s Tale and joins them on the blanket. At that moment, the sun decides to come back out. Lamont Oakley is working all the magic.

He takes a swallow of his beer and asks Coco, “Are you a friend of Kacy’s from California?”

“No,” Coco says. “Kacy and I met on the ferry. She’s graciously letting me stay with her and her parents—”

“The Chief,” Lamont says to Kacy, “and your wonderful mother.”

Kacy rolls her eyes.

“—until Monday, when I start my new job as a personal assistant.”

Is it Kacy’s imagination, or is Coco blossoming right before her eyes? Her body is turned toward Lamont; her expression is bright and engaged. She’s… glowing.

“What are you doing back, Lamont?” Kacy asks.

“My mom has health issues,” he says. “Her eyesight is failing, she has high blood pressure, she’s on oxygen, yada yada. She’s at the top of the list to enter the Homestead, which will be great, all her friends are there, but I’m not sure how long that will take, so I decided to come home. Some random couple just bought a huge house on island and they also bought a hella sailboat. They hired me to be their captain.”

“Really?” Kacy says. “What’s their name?”

“The Richardsons?” Lamont says. “Bull and Leslee?”

Coco spills her beer all over the blanket but barely seems to notice. “I’m working for the Richardsons too! On Pocomo Road?”

“No way!” Lamont says. “Seriously?”

“Seriously!” Coco says.

Kacy leans back on the blanket, face to the sun, head resting on her beach bag, and listens to Coco and Lamont chattering, swapping stories about how they met the Richardsons. Kacy has already heard about how the Richardsons walked into the bar where Coco was working and offered her a job on the spot. In Lamont’s case, someone from Northrop and Johnson recommended him when Bull admitted, after he bought the boat, that he didn’t know the first thing about sailing. Lamont has met the Richardsons only over Zoom.

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