Page 11 of A Line in the Sand

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Molly moved closer.Swish swish swishwent her mermaid tail. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that without drastic cutbacks, the aquarium isn’t going to survive.” Max looked up and pointed at Ursula with one of the mechanical pencils his uncle had always loved so much. “I’m also saying that an aquarium is no place for a dog.”

“I see.” Storm clouds gathered in Molly’s eyes, and she glared at him. “Anything else I should know?”

“Yes, actually.” Max stood again and crossed his arms.Just do it. Rip off the Band-Aid.“An aquarium is also no place for a mermaid.”

“Wait…you’re serious?” Molly’s face fell. Ursula blinked her absurdly big puppy eyes.

Max reminded himself he was a scientist, and he’d been put in charge of an aquarium, not a Disney-themed doggy day care. “Mermaids are mythical creatures. They’re not real. It makes no sense to have a mermaid display when we can barely afford fish food. I’m sorry, but…”

“But what?” Molly’s bottom lip began to quiver, and Max almost wished she’d gone ahead and let him drown the day before.

“You’re fired.”

Chapter 4

“Fired. Like, fired for real? Can he even do that?” Caroline passed another frozen Milky Way latte across the counter to Molly—her third since she’d come bursting through the door of Turtle Books after her disastrous encounter with Max at the aquarium.

Her stomach churned, and not because of all the coffee, caramel, and chocolate. Well, not completely, anyway.

Molly slurped at the straw in her drink. At this rate, she wouldn’t be able to fit into her mermaid costume by morning. But what difference did it make? She was officially unemployed. At least she’d had the forethought to change into regular clothes before storming out of the aquarium. Although her red cap-sleeved T-shirt and high-waisted nautical shorts were a little too marine-themed for her liking at the moment. “I’m pretty sure he can. He’s the director of the aquarium now—the top dog.”

Molly glanced down at Ursula sleeping soundly in her lap and corrected herself. “Never mind. We can’t call him that since he hates dogs.”

Caroline gasped. “Hehates dogs?”

The bells on the door to the bookstore jingled and Violet March walked inside the shop with a pink cardboard box in her arms and her Dalmatian, Sprinkles, trotting at the end of a pink leash decorated with tiny cupcakes.

Violet glanced back and forth between Caroline and Molly. “Someone on this island hates dogs?”

Caroline looked at Molly, prompting her to either explain or change the subject.

Molly gnawed on her straw. She was still trying to wrap her head around her firing. Maybe spreading rumors about Max wasn’t the wisest idea. After all, he could change his mind, couldn’t he? Venting to Caroline when the only customers presently in the shop were browsing the bookshelves clear on the other side of the room and no one else was within earshot was one thing, but involving Violet was another matter entirely.

Not that Turtle Beach’s resident cupcake baker slash yoga teacher was a gossip or anything. Violet was a sweetheart. It was just that news had a tendency to travel like wildfire on their tiny island.

“Wait a minute.” Violet sat down on the barstool beside Molly and deposited the box of cupcakes on the counter while Sprinkles sniffed at Ursula with her quivering heart-shaped nose. “I bet I know who you two are talking about—Henry Miller’s nephew. Am I right?”

A smile tugged at Molly’s lips for the first time since she’d been unceremoniously expelled from the mermaid grotto. “How did you guess?”

Violet shrugged. “He was at yoga with Henry at the senior center this morning and kept giving Sprinkles the side-eye.”

Sprinkles’s tail thumped against the legs of Violet’s barstool at the sound of her name. Caroline reached for the jar beside the cash register where she kept homemade cheese biscuits for her canine customers. She offered a large one to Sprinkles, and the Dalmatian stretched onto the floor to gnaw on it. Ursula sat up at attention, and Caroline slipped her a smaller biscuit—Ursula’s third. Molly’s puppy was matching her, treat for treat.

“Max was at yoga?” Molly let out a most unladylike snort. “I can’t see him doing anything quite that ethereal.”

“He wasn’t very into it. I basically had to force him to participate, and he left midway through murder victim pose because he couldn’t keep still.” Violet’s gaze dropped to Molly’s latte and she aimed a hopeful grin at Caroline. “Can I get one of those to go? You’re the last of my cupcake deliveries this morning. I’m having lunch with Sam at the firehouse on the way home, and I can take my dad a coffee while I’m in the area. You know how much he loves Milky Way lattes.”

“Of course. It’s on the house—anything for the chief of police.” Caroline reached into her vintage red-and-white refrigerator for a bottle of chocolate syrup.

Molly shook her head. “I still can’t believe Max was at yoga right before he fired me.”

“He hates dogsandhe fired you?” Violet pulled a face. “Is he trying to become the super-villain of Turtle Beach?”

Caroline pointed at Molly with the chocolate syrup. “He could have been swept out to sea yesterday, if not for you. How dare he fire you.”

“Seriously. That’s just exceedingly rude.” Violet shook her head. “I got a play-by-play of the rescue from the Charlie’s Angels. If saving your boss’s life doesn’t guarantee job security, then I don’t know what will.”