Page 2 of Into the Light

“Yes, I do.” I smiled proudly. “This necklace has a charm made from sea glass I found at the cove down by the lighthouse.” I pointed in the direction of our town’s main landmark. People loved that stuff.

“Oh, my word. How lovely.” She ran a wrinkled hand down the chain. “How much is it?”

I always had a moment of panic when people asked about pricing. Because the perpetually broke girl in me could never imagine spending this much on something that wasn’t a necessity. But I was a salesperson. A small business owner. And these tourists were not broke girls. They, more often than not, had more money than I could ever imagine. So I pulled up my big girl panties and faked the confidence I needed.

“This piece is three hundred and fifty.” My sales smile made my cheek tick but I kept it up and watched her eye the piece again, toying with the charm.

“It really is lovely,” she said, pulling her hand back and looking in the case once more. “I’ll take it.”

“Wonderful. I’ll wrap it up for you.” I took the necklace and turned to grab a box from the shelf behind me, letting out all the breath in my lungs as I did.

That was how each sale went. Well, the bigger ones at least. I didn’t know if I’d ever get used to taking people’s money for the things I made. Impostor syndrome was a real bitch. But I’d long since decided to ‘fake it til I make it.’

I tied a royal blue bow around the box and placed it in a paper bag. Alex gave me a smile and an approving nod from across the store. After running the lady’s credit card, I thanked her and moved on to the next person with money to burn. And while a little part of me did a giddy dance inside at each and every sale, another very real part of me, flashed a warning. Don’t get too comfortable. Don’t get cocky. Don’t act like you’ve made it.

I didn’t think I’d ever get used to success. And a big part of me never wanted to. Being a broke girl was what gave me the drive to start my business. The drive to work hard—sometimes seventy hours a week—to make a living and not have to go back to substitute teaching, or worse, a regular old nine-to-five. So I was fine being a perpetual broke girl, whether my bank account had money in it or not.

I just really rather liked when it did.

* * *

After I closed up for the day, I headed out to pick up Rafael’s gift. The sidewalk was still full of people strolling and window shopping. The breeze coming off the harbor was cool enough to give me goosebumps but still warmer than usual for early October. The sun was setting and it cast a sparkling orange glow over the water. I took a moment to appreciate the view, one I often took for granted.

I’d grown up in Moon Harbor. I left it for college in Vermont, but knew I would move back as soon as I’d graduated. When my parents died, I almost considered leaving forever. But those years away made me realize this was my home and staying here allowed me to keep a piece of them with me forever. It’s not that I felt I needed to stay… I just wanted to keep that connection. It was my home, even more so after they had passed.

Laughter made its way toward me, carried on the breeze. I saw the tables outside Landry’s restaurant were filled. Families and friends eating, chatting, laughing. Making memories. It was easy to forget to do that sometimes when I was so focused on surviving. Maybe this was a good reminder to do a little living. Tonight could be a start. If I had to go out and celebrate the man I secretly wanted but could never have, then I should at least force myself to have a good time. Enjoy the night with my friends. Make some memories.

I walked another few blocks and turned into McClintock’s. This shop had been around since before I was born and while it mostly catered to tourists, it was a Moon Harbor classic for a reason. Gus, the old man who owned the shop, and practically like an uncle to me, sat behind the counter, looking ready to call it a night.

“Busy day, Gus?”

“Busier than I’ve seen this time of year in over a decade. How are you doing down there?” He asked, throwing a thumb in the direction of my shop.

“Oh pretty good. Happy to get a last minute boost before winter.”

Gus grunted and nodded, his white hair flopping around his ears.

“I’m here to pay for the knife.”

“I’ve got it back here for ya.” Gus bent down to pick up a small box from one of the shelves behind the counter. He opened it and laid it down so I could see it again. A bespoke pocket knife with a mahogany handle sat neatly in a black box. The handle was inlaid with gold in the shape of an anchor. It was hand made by an artist up in Bangor. I’d seen it a few months ago and knew it’d be perfect for Raf. He’d had a similar one, but lost it last spring when a wave almost took him out to sea.

When he’d told me the story, I’d almost had a heart attack.

He’d been tying down some of the extra traps they’d had on board when some of the ropes got tangled. It had been raining all day and the wind had picked up to over fifty knots. But the bulk of the storm hadn’t hit yet and was coming toward them quicker than they could get away.

The Stella Rose was the fastest lobster boat around, but this storm was quicker and harsher than anyone expected. Waves crashed over him, throwing him overboard. He managed to grab the rail as he flipped over it, and scrambled back on deck, soaked to the bone in freezing water.

He’d almost died. But he was more upset about his knife.

I shook my head to rid myself of the image and looked up at Gus.

“It really is stunning.”

“Sure is. Matty does great work.”

“How much?” I asked, rifling through my purse to find my wallet. Gus looked me over, one eye narrowing.

“Well, now, Ellie, let’s just say fifty.” My shoulders dropped and I cocked my head at him.

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