Page 18 of South of The Skyway

“So what if I did?”

“This is why I handle the real estate.”

“Don’t judge a fish climbing a tree.”

I chuckled even as I glanced at my watch and up to the address for the third time, just to confirm my feet had led me to the correct location. Yep. This was it. “The fish can eyeball an entire catch plus or minus a pound. He’s doing just fine.”

“Alright, well, we’ll be up here prepping on the boat when you go in. Slacker.” I could just picture him rolling those gray eyes. “However, keep me posted on the Brex-a-nator.”

“Brex-a-nator?Alright, dingus. How was yesterday’s haul?”

“You know Milo.”

“Nice.” We had the pleasure of being raised and trained by the infamous Captain Milo Rhodes. He trusted intuition over projections, and the movements of aquatic friends over human statistics. Usually tiptoeing on this side of the law, he’d become a local legend before his twenty-first birthday. He’d just follow his gut to the weirdest locations and pull up enough fish to weigh the ship down, nearly scraping bottom as he came into the cannery. He held more records than anyone on the island. They were wrapping up cod before heading down to see the progress on the new homestead, only to return home to prep for salmon season.

If I weren’t so excited about not having icicles currently hanging off my beard, I’d be bitter about missing the summer. Salmon had been my forte since I was a teenager, and there was nothing as satisfying as the sea in the summer.

“Well, enjoy the day off. I’ll update you after the showings.”

“You always have the best luck. You’ll find a spot, don’t worry.”

I chuckled. It was true, I’d become a master manifester in high school. Odds were, that’s why I’d been sent down here. “Talk soon.”

“Love you.”

“You too.”

Phone returned to my pocket, I grabbed the brass handle and pushed open the door to the clatter of metal tools and a loud thud. “Hello?” I hollered. “Everything okay?”

A muffled, “Back here,” was the response. Quirking, I followed her voice down the wide hallway. God, the history in this place had to be fantastic. A few cracks in the plaster and dents in the drywall were the only signs of wear on the interior. The stretching honey hardwood was full of character, mottled with marks and dings the wealthy paid to have artificially created. A stain and a seal would bring her back to life in no time.

“Marco,” I called out, chuckling at the immediate response.

“Polo!”

I glanced at my smart watch, double-checking the woman’s name before saying, “I’m supposed to meet Clementine.”

“Yap.”

There was another crash, followed by a muffled curse, a shift of metal across hardwood, and then the swinging door at the end of the hall flew open. My heart suddenly ached for my mother; the similarity in their energy was uncanny. Clementine’s thick silver curls were swept back into a claw clip, loose spirals hanging beside her face. A pair of round bronze glasses was more of a steampunk costume than a day-to-day accessory set on her nose with a tiny notch at the center. Sparkling amber eyes sat above rouged, light umber cheeks.

“Here,” she pressed a paintbrush into my hand, scowling at the mess below the old ladder. “Hold that.” She quirked her head, evidently considering what to do with the spill of black paint. I grimaced, shrugging.

“I mean, I wanted to restore these beauties, except black paint has a certain grungy, dark academia vibe to it. Pair it with some original wood accents and gold accessories. It’d work.”

Mischief sparked in her eyes, full lips curling. Plucking the brush from my fingers, she dropped into a crouch and happily spread the spill out over the sanded floor before rising back to her feet, crossing one arm under the other as she surveyed the fresh coat of color.

“S’pose that’ll do it. Mr. Rhodes, I assume?”

I mirrored her positioning, leaning back to observe the coat of drying paint. “At your service.”

“Evidently so.”

“Happy to be put to work if the terms are agreeable.”

“Happy to get back in my garden and far, far away from that contraption.” She jerked her chin at the ladder, still teetering uneasily.

“Why don’t you show me around? We can talk terms as we tour.”

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