Page 6 of Hook, Line and Mystery

He nodded, guiding her through a gentle turn around the dance floor—deftly weaving her in and out between other couples. “Born and raised. Left only for college to study marine biology.”

“I’m more accustomed to literature than petri dishes. I was a teacher before I became an author.”

He laughed softly, the sound mingling with the melody. “A true artist, then.”

He pronounced it ‘artiste.’

“Among other things.”

“You any good?” She wasn’t the only one who could be blunt.

“Good enough to not have a day job.” She pulled away, stopping as she reached into the pocket of her dress to withdraw something. She opened her palm to reveal a small lobster charm. “I found this today on the beach.”

Kit led her to the edge of the dance floor underneath one of the lantern lights to get a better look, reluctantly releasing her hand. He leaned in closer, examining the charm. “That’s a pot medallion,” Her eyes showed her lack of understanding. Kit explained, “Fishermen have to mark their buoys and pots so they can be easily identified. Where did you find it?”

“Down on the beach. I went down the lighthouse stairs and turned left. I was almost parallel to the big rock out in the harbor.”

“So, the sandy part of the beach?”

She nodded. “About halfway between the water mark and the sawgrass.”

Kit looked at it again, trying to commit it to memory. “Interesting place to find a lobster medallion.”

“Do you know who it belongs to?”

“No, but it does look familiar. I can try to find out something about it if you like.”

“That would be great. Thank you.”

“Happy to do it.” The wind seemed to pick up as if it was trying to snatch the lobster charm away. “Maybe he’s here to dance, too.”

Abby laughed, the sound like a melody that his heart used to know and that he hadn’t heard in a while.

Kit grinned and twirled her back out onto the dance floor, resuming their dance, their steps more synchronized.

“Tell me more about yourself.” Abby glanced up at him. “I’m curious.” A shadow crossed her face and her body tensed before she smiled, sheepishly. “Sorry; occupational hazard. You know what they say about us writers: everything is grist for the mill.”

“Not to worry. You ask away. If I don’t want to answer, I won’t. Fair enough?” She nodded and seemed to relax. “Marine conservation is not only my job, but my calling. For as long as I’ve been breathing on this earth, I felt it was everybody’s job to protect the ocean.” Kit shook his head as the rhythm of the dance slowed as the song neared its end. “I realized early on not everyone felt that way. Protecting the ocean and its inhabitants—both in the sea and those who make a living from it—is important to me.”

“Sounds far more noble than what I do.”

“How do you describe what you do?”

“When pushed, I tell them I’m an entertainer. I don’t sing or dance or create characters in front of a film crew, but I entertain people with my stories—a fool’s errand.”

“Don’t underestimate what you provide. For many, you offer a bit of respite from their world. I’ll bet your stories are a lifeline that makes it possible for them to function. And don’t forget, it’s the fools and dreamers who change the world.”

A wry smile tugged at her lips. “Perhaps,” she agreed.

He was aware of everything about her—her hair, her eyes with their laugh lines, the way her dress emphasized her hourglass figure. “Look at us,” he said, “two idealists, brought together by a silver lobster to dance beneath the stars.”

Almost under his breath, he murmured, “Seems like fate has a sense of humor.”

Abby’s voice took on a curious lilt. “Do you think the charm is significant? Do you think it might have something to do with the poaching?” In answer to his surprised look, she said, “I overheard what you and several of the others said in the café.” He nodded. “Hasn’t there been talk of the lobster fishery being decimated by poaching?”

Kit nodded and wondered if the charm might be some kind of clue that might help to unravel what was happening to the lobsters and who was behind it. “It’s a delicate balance, keeping the industry alive without depleting our resources. It doesn’t help that it seems as though a group of commercial poachers has moved in, stealing from everyone and destroying the fishery in the process.”

She glanced at the charm, then back to him. “A mystery wrapped in a silver crustacean.”

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