Page 66 of A Line in the Sand

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When Max had woken up this morning, the ache in his chest was still there. As were his doubts.

Max jotted down Henry’s seventy-four-point score—plus the fifty-point bonus for using all of his letters—and spun the game board back around. He studied the letters on his rack while Uncle Henry drummed his fingers on the table, making Max’s tiles jump in place.

A few tables down, Opal Lewinsky and Ethel Banks were engaged in a heated argument about whether or notvajayjaywas a real word.

“Use it in a sentence,” Ethel demanded.

Max closed his eyes.Please don’t.

“What’s the matter?” Henry asked.

“Nothing. I’m fine,” Max lied.

Henry harrumphed. “You can’t play Scrabble with your eyes closed.”

Max decided to just cut to the chase. If anything, it would make it easier to ignore the vajayjay debate. “Did you hear what I said earlier? Molly wants to apply for a state conservation grant to focus on developing a program for training dogs to scent track sea turtle nests.”

“I heard you just fine.” Henry shrugged. “I just don’t see why you’re so torn up about it. You said that Ursula taught herself to sniff out nests. It stands to reason that other dogs can learn to do the same thing.”

“Right, but—”

Uncle Henry cut him off. “But you just want to micromanage the grant application when Molly is the one who found out about the grant in the first place.”

Was that what he was doing?

All at once, he felt like he was back at his old job in Baltimore, listening to the board of directors tell him that the reason he’d been passed over for a promotion was his lack of work–life balance. Old habits died hard.

Max shifted in his seat. “Uncle Henry, the grant is worth almost a million dollars. If we got it, the aquarium and the sea turtle hospital would be funded for the foreseeable future.”

“And you don’t want to go with Molly’s idea, even though you regretted firing her. And even though you brought her back as soon as you could. And even though she organized that wonderful turtle release yesterday, and her little dog is going to make a bigger impact on this year’s sea turtle hatching season than the entire staff of the aquarium put together.” Henry held up his hands. “That’s about the sum of things, am I right?”

Max sat back in his chair as if he’d been physically punched directly in the place where his chest ached.

“Actually.” Max swallowed. “You kind of are.”

“Then I think you know what to do,” Henry said.

Maybe he did. But could things really be that simple?

“It’s your turn. Are you going to make a word or not?” Uncle Henry nodded toward the Scrabble board. Case closed and discussion over, apparently.

At least this time, he’d actually listened to Max and offered some advice. Even if the advice had been difficult to hear.

Max stared at the letters on his rack until they seemed to arrange themselves into a word—a word that made Max’s breath bottle up tight in his chest.

He picked up the tiles and carefully laid them down.

M-E-R-M-A-I-D. Mermaid.

If Max believed in signs, he just might have thought the universe was trying to tell him something.

Chapter 17

Ten days. That was it. That’s all the time they had.

Whenever Molly glanced at her calendar, a little flare of panic bloomed in her chest. Technically, she hadlessthan ten days to get the dog training sessions up and running, because she’d need time to get everything properly written up before submitting the paperwork to the grant committee.

Miraculously, Max had suggested that Molly write up the entire thing on her own. It had been the absolute last thing she’d expected when Max had walked into the aquarium just after lunch and requested that she descend her mermaid throne to speak to him privately in his office. Frankly, she’d been fully prepared for him to tell her that they wouldn’t be doing the dog training program at all. He’d seemed more than a little dubious about her idea last night, and his reaction had taken the wind out of her sails after such a great day. She’d suddenly had zero interest in kissing him under the pier again. All she’d wanted to do was go home, climb into her starfish pajamas, and watch theGreat British Baking Showwith Ursula. It had been patisserie week, her favorite.