Page 38 of Sea La Vie
“I’m going to take you out again tomorrow morning,” Dad says. “Same time. You’re eighteen now, and this company will be on your shoulders one day.”
I nod, although my heart sinks. I have dreams bigger than fishing my whole life, but telling Dad that isn’t going to get me anywhere but grounded. “Yes sir.”
Dad looks at me for a beat then sighs. “Can I give you one piece of advice, son?”
“Sure,” I respond, almost hesitantly.
“She’ll only break your heart,” he says.
“Who?” I ask, playing dumb.
“Women are trouble, and the sooner you realize that, the happier you’ll be.” He picks up one end of the cooler then turns back to me. “I have a feeling you’re going to have to learn that the hard way, though.”
I chew on my lower lip while I pull my hat from my back pocket. I know Dad doesn’t believe much in love, given my mom took off on us when I was a kid. My memories of her are sparse, and sometimes I wonder if they’re real or just a dream I had.
“Be back home in time for supper,” he says. He ruffles my hair again then walks down the docks, dragging the cooler back to his truck. I stay rooted in place until I see his taillights disappear.
The girl is alone now, wandering the sidewalk in front of the shops that line Water Street. She stops and peers in the window of one every so often before coming to a lemonade stand.How can I get her attention?I rake a hand through my hair and smooth the front of my shirt, then send up a prayer that I don’t smell too strongly of fish.
I watch as she hands over a few of the bills her father gave her and takes the lemonade. As she continues to stroll, a dollar bill escapes from her purse and flies behind her.
“Excuse me, miss?” I jog the short distance from the docks to the shops across the street. “Miss!”
Finally, she stops and turns around. “You dropped this,” I say, trying to hide the fact that I’m out of breath. Not because of jogging, but because she’s so painfully beautiful.She blinks, long lashes framing dark eyes.
“Oh,” she says, eyes wide. “Thank you so much.” I hand over the dollar bill and she tucks it safely back into her purse then sways slightly from left to right.
“I’m Beau,” I blurt out before she has the chance to turn away.
She smiles—two rows of straight, white teeth behind pink lips—and suddenly I’m self-conscious of the way I must look after a long day of fishing.
“I’m Emma.” She seems to sense my apprehension and sticks a hand out to shake. I take it, lightly kissing her knuckles instead.
“It’s nice to meet you.” I realize I’m still holding her hand and drop it quickly.
Two rosy spots bloom along her narrow cheekbones. “It’s nice to meet you too, Beau.”
“I haven’t seen you around,” I say. “Are you here for vacation?” Widow’s Wharf isn’t known as a vacation destination, but rather a fishing town, so I really am curious as to why she’s here.
“No,” she says. “My father is here to start up the bank along the waterfront.” Her eyes lift as she points toward Water Street.
I follow her gaze to the building that’s been under construction for the past several months. “Oh, he’s going to be the manager?” I ask.
“Kind of, for a few months until the person he’s training is able to take over.”
“So you’re here for longer than a week?” I ask, hope bubbling inside my chest.
She giggles, shyly. “Yes. I’ll be here for the summer.”
“That’s great!” I say. “I was looking for a friend named Emma. What are the odds?” I shoot her a wink, and the rosy spots darken further.
“I’m glad I can be of assistance,” she says, eyes sparkling. I motion toward the docks on the other side of the road.
“Would you like to go for a walk with me, Emma?”
She glances around then nods. “It’s beautiful here. To be honest, I was dreading this summer because who wants to spend their summer break in a place called Widow’s Wharf? I see I clearly had the wrong impression about this place.”
I laugh. “It’s North Carolina’s best kept secret. So, where are you from?”
