Page 20 of Play Action Pass

“I’m going to get the club sandwich,” she said. “You?”

“Steak and eggs, baby.” He patted his flat belly. “I’m a growing boy.”

“You’re a six-foot-something behemoth,” she commented dryly. “You grow anymore and you’ll not fit through the door.”

He chuckled.

When the waitress came back, they placed their orders. Emmie tasted the iced tea, grimacing at the bitter tang, and grabbed a few sweetener packs to dump into her drink. Coleson did the same.

“Do you have your brother’s journal?” he asked.

“In the car,” she replied. “There were a few places he mentioned more than once. Like the lighthouse and ice cream parlor. He also wrote about some waterfall in the national park.”

“It might be too late in the day to visit that now,” he said.

Emmie pursed her lips. “Okay. We can go tomorrow tothat one. He also mentioned a flea market in the Mermaid Wharf. They don’t actually sell fleas, do they?”

He blinked. “Are you joking?”

She tilted her head, waiting for him to answer.

“You’re not joking.” He shook his head. “No, they don’t sell fleas. Well, maybe if there are animals being sold, but I doubt that on a pier. Anyway, vendors set up and sell previously owned items.”

She frowned. “What sort of previously owned items?”

“Clothes. Shoes. Knickknacks. Odds and ends. Stuff like that.”

“Why would people buy used stuff?”

“I guess you’ve never shopped at a thrift store,” he said. “Well, lots of different people shop at flea markets. You can find some great bargains for great prices.”

It still didn’t make any sense to her. “But why call it a flea market?”

“That I don’t know.” Coleson grinned at her. “Just wait. You’ll see what I mean.”

Once served, they finished lunch quickly and Coleson insisted on paying for it. He placed a hand on her lower back and steered her back to his car. After sitting down and putting her seat belt on, Emmie tapped into her phone while he slid behind the wheel.

“Okay,” she said, reading. “It’s from a French translation.Le marché aux puces. Literally means market of fleas. Are you sure they’re not selling them there?”

“Positive.” He plugged the address into his phone and a moment later the first direction popped up. Then he pulled out onto Main Street and headed east. “It’s a half hour drive. Why don’t you tell me a little about yourself.”

“Pretty sure I’m boring.”

He shot her a quick glance. “Nothing about you is boring.”

“My ex-fiancé would beg to differ.”

“You’re engaged?”

“Iwasengaged,” she clarified. “For about two seconds. It was arranged. I was always afraid of my parents, but after my brother died, I didn’t give a shit about anything anymore. How about you? Ever engaged?”

“Nope. Never found the one woman I wanted to grow old with, and I’m not interested in settling down without the right person.”

They arrived at Mermaid Wharf, and Emmie couldn’t believe her eyes. The five-hundred-foot wooden walkway extended out across the Atlantic Ocean with the entire structure enclosed. Coleson parked and waited for her to reach his side, taking hold of his hand as he held it out. Once more, sunglasses perched on his nose and his baseball cap pulled low, as if he was trying to hide. As someone who had, on occasion, used disguises to fool the public, his actions were suspicious.

People swarmed around, and they blended into the flow, heading up the steps to a variety of souvenir shops, fashion storefronts, craft stores, and the promised flea market. There was so much stuff to see, Emmie was afraid of missing something. She understood now why Jacoby had liked this place. It was busy, loud, and the scents drifting from the various food stands were mouthwatering.

The flea market was a revelation. Antiques, jewelry, old clothes and hats, toys, cookware. Everything. Everywhere she looked. Her eyes couldn’t get wide enough to look at everything. Before she knew it, she had an armful of things she probably didn’t need, but wanted nonetheless. Especially the old jewelry. It almost felt like they belonged to her. That she had to take care of the beautiful old pieces. Coleson had a hard time not smiling at her, but she didn’t care. She was having fun and handed over cash to pay for her goodies.

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