Page 58 of Off the Hook

I winced. “Can I talk to him?”

He shook his head. “He had a morning charter, left here around two. He’s probably back in bed, if I had to guess.”

“Oh,” I said, feelingdejected.

“Yeah, he’s been in a pretty dark place this past week, Detective.”

I shifted on my feet, ashamed for my role in it. “That bad, huh?”

“I’ve seen him down several times in his life, but never like this.” Spencer’s head tilted, and he asked softly, “Do you know what’s got him so depressed?”

“Yes sir, I’m afraid I do. He wasn’t treated fairly. But I want to make it right.” I bit my lip, guilt weighing heavy. “You know him better than anyone… do you have any suggestions?”

“Any time I needed to make something up to my wife–and there were quite a few of those in over forty years,” he chuckled as he continued, “I took her out for a sunset cruise. Doesn’t get much more romantic than that.”

“I couldn't agree more,” I smiled, my cheeks warming with the memory of our day out on the water. Coulter had a boat, and sunset was in an hour and a half. “Maybe I can convince him to take me out. If he’ll talk to me.” I reached out my hand. “Thanks for the advice.”

Mr. Rodman shook my hand firmly. “You’re welcome.”

I started to turn but his grip tightened around my hand. “Wait. I have an idea…Come with me.” I followed him down to the dock to a small Boston Whaler with “Ellie” in red cursive letters along its side. He held out his hand proudly, a twinkle in his eye. “This is the boat I had when Coulter’s mom and I fell in love. I named it for her and kept it all these years, for that reason.”

“That’s really sweet,” I said, shifting nervously and wondering why he was telling me this.

“We had a secret spot,” he continued. “A private place in the mangroves. Take him there.”

“But I don’t know how to drive a boat,” I said.

“We need to remedy that,” he chuckled, “but another time. Tell you what…meet me at Coulter’s house in half an hour. I’ll run it over there, and get him out to the boat for you.”

“Really? You’d do that?” I couldn’t help but smile at his kindness.

“To get Coulter out of his funk, of course I would,” he said with a warm smile. “You don’t have kids yet, but when you do, you’ll understand.”

“Thank you Mr. Rodman, I mean, Spencer. Your son is the most amazing man I’ve ever known.”

“I think he’s pretty great myself. I hope you two can work it out. I’ll be rooting for you.”

I quickly drove home, and changed into my favorite tiny hot pink bikini. If anything could sway Coulter to forgive me, it was this bikini. I threw a gauzy cover over it and rummaged through my fridge, finding a bottle of bubbly I’d gotten for New Year’s Eve that Laura and I never drank, and a carton of strawberries that were on the verge of being too ripe. I rounded up a jar of olives, a pack of prosciutto, two blocks of cheese, and a box of crackers. I shoved it all into the old wicker picnic basket that my mom always used to take to the beach. Nervous butterflies swarmed in my stomach as I raced to Coulter’s house.

Tiptoeing past Coulter’s truck and the door of the house, I made my way down to the dock. I found Spencer tying the little Whaler up on the other side of Coulter’s boat. TheWhaler was weathered and puny compared to Coulter’s fancy flats boat, but the sentimental value made it priceless, and perfect for this occasion.

Spencer smiled, speaking in a low tone. “Perfect timing.” He peeked into my basket as he loaded it onto the small boat. “Good choice,” he said, giving me a wink. “Alright, I’ll go get him.”

When Spencer hopped onto the dock with the spryness of a man half his age, an unexpected endearment washed over me. There was no need to wonder what Coulter would be like in thirty years. He’d be exactly like that hell-of-a man who was trotting across the yard trying to make sure I had a chance to be there to see it.

I followed several feet behind Spencer, hanging back at the corner of the house while he knocked at the door. “Coulter?” he called, knocking harder. “You home?”

He knocked again before turning the knob. The door creaked open.Didn’t anyone lock their doors in the Keys?“Coulter?” His dad called, disappearing inside. “Jeez, you’re back in bed again? Get up son, I need your help,” I heard his dad say in a stern tone.

I inched closer to hear better, and peeked in the door. My mouth dropped open at the sight of the house in complete disarray. Dirty clothes and pizza boxes on the floor. Beer bottles littering the coffee table. It was a disaster and I felt terrible knowing it was a reflection of the wreck I’d made him.

“Leave me alone Dad!” Coulter groaned from the bedroom.

“I said I need your help. Now get your ass up,” Spencer ordered him from the doorway to his room.

“Help with what?”

“The Ellie. Come on, I’ll explain. Bring your truck keys.”

---