Page 2 of Taming Waves

My phone chimes from where my bag landed, and I know it’s my mother. She’s left me a dozen messages since last night.

I missed Sunday dinner again—a cardinal sin in Mamie Fulbright’s book.

Rolling over, I reach inside and grab the phone. As I pull my boots off, I tap the screen to answer the call and bring the phone to rest between my shoulder and ear.

“Hi, Mom.”

“You are alive!” she bellows over the line.

Such a flair for the dramatics.

“Barely,” I mumble.

“I was about to send your father out on a search and rescue mission.”

“I sent you a text explaining I had to work, Mother.”

“A text? You know I hate those things. They’re so impersonal.”

And it’s not the ideal form of communication for her to adequately relay a guilt trip.

“I’m sorry. I’ll call next time.”

“Next time? I hope you aren’t planning to make it a habit.”

I sigh. “I might have to work a few more Sundays until we hire a new bartender. We’re on a skeleton crew at the moment.”

“Audrey—”

“I know, Mom. I promise, as soon as we get someone in place, Sunday dinners will resume as normal,” I say over a yawn.

“You work too hard. I don’t know why you won’t consider finding other employment. Something safer with better hours than that bar. You could have a life,” she says.

This is a conversation we’ve had over and over for years.

“I do have a life, Mom. I like my job, it’s perfectly safe and I don’t mind the hours.”Normally.

She huffs.

“Okay, sweetheart. I don’t want to argue. I just miss your face. How about I pop over with breakfast tomorrow?”

“That’d be great.”

“Get some rest.”

“ ’Kay.”

I end the call, drop the phone onto the nightstand, grab the blanket at the end of the bed, and tug it over me.

Then, it’s lights out.

Parker

It’s been a great day out on the water. We had two parties to take out for some late-season excursions.

I work for a fishing charter company, Hollister Charters, in Sandcastle Cove with my best friends, Sebastian Harraway and Anson Leggett. Sebastian’s grandfather, Sebby, owns the company. He and his buddy, Donnie Dale, have run it for four decades. Still, he’s pretty much retired now and handed the reins over to Sebastian’s parents, who handle the business end of things, and the three of us pilot the boats, teach clients the ins and outs of intracoastal and deep-sea fishing, and keep the vessels in tip-top working order.

It’s a good living.

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