Page 12 of Resting Beach Face
“Agnes and I might cross over to Swallow Beach after we’re done here. Wanna come along and play tour guide?”
I loudly stacked plates. “Not really.”
There was a stretch of awkward silence.
“It’s, uh, not really my strong point,” I added with a strained smile. Judging by the looks around the table, I hadn’t pulled it off.
“All right,” Roger grumbled. “I was just trying to be friendly.”
Agnes rescued me. Her hair was a short white bob with a purple streak through the bangs to indicate she was stillhip. Her cat’s-eye purple glasses coordinated nicely.
“I’m sure he gets offers all the time to tour the area, honey. He lives here and meets new people every day.” She sighed wistfully. “What a lovely life. I’d love to run a B&B.”
Everyone looked at me again. I cleared my throat and prepared to say something appropriately cheerful.
My phone rang.
Thank you, whoever you are.
I reached into my pocket to pull out my cell. “Sorry, all, I’ve got to take this booking. Please leave your dishes. I’ll finish cleaning up.”
“Thank you, Declan.”
“Have a good day, Declan!”
“The quiche was delicious.”
Chairs scraped back, silverware clattered against china, and feet shuffled. Jake, the quiet husband, patted my shoulder as he passed. Perhaps sympathizing with my inability to hold a simple conversation?
Then they were gone, and it was quiet again.
I answered the phone. “Nathan, you picked the perfect time to call.”
“Every time I call is perfect,” he said with a chuckle.
Nathan was the type of guy who had confidence for days, yet somehow it never came across as cocky. We’d worked together in the banking industry. I was a financial analyst, spending my days with data as my closest companion, while Nathan managed investment portfolios.
He’d left shortly after I did to go into hedge fund management. He loved playing the odds, taking risks for great reward—and sometimes great disappointments. I couldn’t live so dangerously, but Nathan got a shot of adrenaline out of it.
“What did you need?” I asked.
Nathan and I were colleagues—he’d tried to take me rock-climbing exactly one time before he learned I was a better workplace acquaintance than actualfriend—but he stopped in with coffee and dragged me away from my numbers to pick my brain about financial trends whenever he could.
“You see what’s going on with Heske Tech?” he asked.
“Don’t take that bait,” I said. “It’s artificially inflated now, but given the trends, it won’t last.”
“Aha! I knew you’d never abandon us completely, man. You should come back.”
“What?” I startled. “No, I just…”
“Analyze financial data for shits and giggles?” he said with a snort.
“I wouldn’t sayanalyze.I peruse. In fact, don’t take my advice on Heske. I haven’t done any deep dives into the data.”
“I’d take your casual perusal over some other guy’s in-depth study. Your talents are wasted out there.”
“Maybe, but I can’t run the B&B from Chicago, so…”
