Page 52 of Summer Longing
For her birthday, she asked for twenty-five-pound manufacturing kettles and lipstick molds. That first year, they did $250,000 in business and made a $25,000 profit.
“But when you were my age, you created the nail polish,” Olivia said. “After that, you were basically set.”
Yes, the nail polish. The game-changer. Ruth thought again about the discontinuation of Cherry Hill and what it meant for the company that she’d been forced to leave behind. “You’ll find your own version of the nail polish, sweetheart,” Ruth said. “I believe in you. But for now, rest.” She kissed her on the forehead. “I’m going to pick up lunch.”
She needed to call Lidia Barros and postpone their plans for coffee until later in the day. For the first time in a very long while, Ruth had some mothering to do.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Elise and Fern met Marco on the boatyard dock as they’d said they would the previous night. Of course, they hadn’t anticipated their day would start at the pediatrician’s office and that the visit would create so much tension that they were scarcely speaking to each other when it was time for the meeting. But one thing Elise and Fern both agreed on was that it would be wrong to cancel.
“Besides,” Fern said, “we can’t let all this paralyze us.”
Elise bristled at the sentiment, because it was something Fern had said again and again when their attempts at pregnancy kept failing and Elise had been unable to focus on anything else. She didn’t want Fern equating this new baby with the way things had happened with the IVF. She couldn’t let her turn something with possibilities into something doomed and then use that as an excuse to reject it.
Marco was crouched down, tying a skiff to the dock. He spotted them and motioned them over. It was a perfect day to be out on the water, sunny but with little wind. The bay was slate-colored and filled with boats of all kinds. The air smelled like the sea.
Even after five years, when Elise walked on the docks and piers of the town, she still marveled that they lived so close to such natural beauty. She particularly romanticized the three-mile-long breakwater just off Pilgrim Park that stretched out into the water like a bridge to infinity. She and Fern used to take a picnic dinner to the park and then walk out onto the rocks, Elise skittish and unsure of her footing, Fern holding out her hand and leading the way. They should do that again sometime soon.
“You ready for a little sightseeing?” Marco said, smiling. Despite the bumpy start to the day, Elise couldn’t help but smile back. Marco was a good man. It wasn’t surprising that a few years ago, that wealthy young woman from Chatham had fallen for him. Of course, anyone could see from a mile away that the relationship would never last. But how sweet, how absolutely romantic it had been for Marco to propose to her. The Barroses—and everyone else who cared about Marco—had to pack away their doubts and hope for the best. Only Lidia continued to sound the alarm, confiding in Elise and Fern that the woman was all wrong for her son, that she was already trying to change him, and when she realized that would fail, she would leave and break his heart. And that’s exactly what happened.
“We’re ready. Is this our ride?” Fern said, looking at the skiff.
“No, we’re over here.” A larger powerboat was tied on the other side of the dock. It had a metal pole topped with a hook-like contraption near the bow. Elise and Fern climbed onto the stern, where there was a long bench and a few scattered egg crates and coils of rope. Two pairs of protective gloves were tucked into the side of the bench.
“I’m taking you out to where I have my bottom cages,” Marco said over the loud rumble of the motor.
Elise had questions, as she was sure Fern did. But once they picked up speed, it was too loud for conversation. Now that they were physically out on the water, the color of the bay was a deeper blue tinged with green. White foam kicked up around the perimeter of the boat, and Elise’s hair whipped around her face in the wind.
They were ten minutes out when Marco cut the motor. They were in an area of the water marked by white buoys in horizontal rows.
The stillness made Elise feel off balance the way the motion had when they’d left the dock.
“This will just take a few minutes,” Marco said. “I’m not trying to be mysterious, it’s just easier to show you instead of explaining.”
Marco cast the hook-like contraption at the end of a line down into the water, then set to work rotating a lever on the metal pole. It made a loud cranking sound as it slowly raised the line to the surface of the water and then above. When it was a few inches higher, Elise saw it was pulling up a horizontal rope that was covered in something light brown and slimy.
Marco cranked the lever, lifting the rope higher and higher, and Elise realized it was elevating seaweed. The seaweed hung like a sheet, yellow-brown with a ridged texture, glistening in the sun. The fronds had to be twelve to fifteen feet long. Maybe longer.
Marco leaned over with a knife, sliced off a few pieces, and dropped them into a white plastic bucket.
“Marco, what is all this?” Fern said.
He smiled and wiped his brow. “I’m cultivating seaweed,” he said. “Specifically kelp.”
The long fronds reminded Elise of crimped hair.
“We can see that,” Fern said. “But…why?”
“A few reasons. I’m worried about the future of fishing. The past two seasons have been rough. And every year, I know one hurricane could wipe out the oysters and I’m done. But seaweed gets planted after hurricane season. And since I already have the infrastructure for the oysters, it really cost me nothing to get this up and running.”
“Is there a big market for seaweed?” Fern said.
“Good question. It’s a growth industry. As a cooking ingredient, it’s sort of adventurous right now.”
“Have you eaten it?”
He nodded. “I have. Kelp noodles have a very mild flavor. Plain, dried kelp has a sea-salt, nutty taste. There’s a lot of variety. It’s high in protein, low in calories, and a truly sustainable crop. And remember, not many people were eating kale ten years ago.”
