Chapter 9
“Wow, this is…” Leaning back against a tree, Dove couldn’t finish the sentence as she slid down to the ground, staring out over the cliff face just feet away, to the Bering Sea beyond.
Her gaze landing on the glaciers she’d been acquainted with her entire life, but never seen from that vantage point.
The climb had been hours long. Rigorous. Challenging to her toned muscles, but nothing she couldn’t handle.
The bear that had been within yards of them, not so much. Mitchell had taken care of that one all on his own. Other than the noisemaker he’d handed her, something the kids in Shelby learned how to use during grade school. She’d done her part there.
He’d seen the tracks first, had heard the movement when she’d thought he was only listening to the breeze in the trees.
He’d been conversational as he’d told her that it was a black bear—not saying how he’d known, and she hadn’t asked.
She’d been too busy glomming on other bear information she’d learned as a kid in school.
Black bears were generally not aggressive.
She’d seen its back as Mitchell stood his ground and the animal had slowly ambled off in the opposite direction.
That had been an hour before. She’d been thinking ever since about the man’s appearance in her life.
Leaning her head back against the tree’s bark while Mitchell stood gazing at the horizon, Dove closed her eyes and took deep, pure breaths. All the way through her diaphragm and filling her stomach.
Over the course of the past hours, she’d found her way back to herself.
To fully trusting. Against her own judgment, she’d followed her heart’s missive to seek out her exact opposite, the practical and staid Mitchell Colton.
And she’d most definitely been led to the place she’d needed to be in that space and time.
She didn’t kid herself that there was any kind of future for them. Dove rarely thought about a future for herself that contained a husband. Or even a permanent male companion.
Most of the men she knew didn’t understand her. Or believe in what she knew to be truth. And there was no way she could compromise her heart. Any relationship she attempted to have after that would fail. You couldn’t love without heart.
She didn’t question why she’d been given a deeper sense of the heart and soul, the spirits within and around her. Didn’t ask why she had an understanding that never reached most people. But she knew that, above all else, she had to be true to that which she could feel but not see. Or even explain.
Finishing a litany of thanks, she opened her eyes to see Mitchell pulling out his phone.
“Is this a service point?” she asked, reaching for her own cell. They’d stopped at two others during the hours they’d been out. There’d been no news forthcoming at either of them.
But when she saw Mitchell nod as he tapped his phone screen, she tapped her own. Saw a new text message, and recognizing the number as one of her father’s employees, Hal Billows, she tapped to read it immediately.
Dread flooded her being at the first few words. She finished reading and said, “Mitchell.” He reached her in two strides, and she handed him her phone.
Saw the words in her mind’s eye as he read them.
Tell your father I’m sorry, Dove, but I’m quitting St. James Boats as of today. I’ve been offered a position at another marina for a lot more money. And better chances of longevity. Keep my pay for the past week in lieu of my two weeks’ notice.
There was no other marina in Shelby. And as Mitchell had pointed out recently, Brad Fletcher owned the marinas in the neighboring towns on both sides of them.
She could no longer turn a blind eye to the facts that were presenting at an alarming rate. Mitchell had been right. Someone was putting the squeeze on her and her father.
Someone with the power to offer a St. James employee a handsome raise at what was surely one of Brad Fletcher’s marinas.
At the same time Brad Fletcher was being increasingly aggressive with her in his bids to buy her father’s marina.
It didn’t take a mathematician to put two and two together on that one.
Nor to see that if she didn’t take Fletcher’s offer, she and her father would be destitute.
St. James Boats was no longer raking in the dough, but it was making enough to cover Whaler’s minimal needs and alcohol with enough left over for the monthly installments on her mother’s remaining medical bills.
Namaste kept her afloat. But with nothing to spare.
“I might have a solution for this one.” Mitchell’s words slowly got through the fog taking over her brain.
“For what? We can’t offer Hal more money.”
“No, but with your permission, I think I might be able to find someone who can take over his duties. The son of a buddy of mine from high school. Dete Littleton. Like your father, Dete’s a sea captain, gone most of the time, but his son, Kirk, has been raised on boats since he was born.
He’s only twenty-one, just back from college graduation… ”
A dream come true for St. James Boats. Even temporarily.
That math added up quickly, too. Glancing at Mitchell, accepting without question the good coming from him, through him, she said, “You have my permission” and sat calmly while he made the call.
Bad would come. It was a part of the learning experience. Her job was to trust. To know that, regardless of what happened, her spirit would be fine. She was loved.
To believe that answers would always be there.
And to keep firmly in mind at all times that Mitchell Colton was merely a conduit.
Not intended to be a personal part of her life.
Kirk was ecstatic at the idea of working at St. James Boats. He’d grown up with the marina in his backyard. Had hung out there as a high schooler, just to learn, to feel like he was closer to his father out at sea.
Unbeknownst to Dove, Whaler had let the kid tag along and help him out when he was working on the boats. And the others had, too.
“It’s a blessing of fate,” Dove told Mitchell as they headed back down to civilization to meet the young man at the marina.
It would be getting dark by the time they arrived—would be nearly eleven at night—but Kirk wanted to be able to help on the docks in the morning, and Mitchell had to close the deal.
Several of the boats had reservations on the books for the next day.
Including Whaler’s largest, most expensive boat in the fleet—the small trawler, Wicked Winnings.
“It’s business, Dove. It’s what I do. Put together people and products that mesh through fair contracts.” It was clear, concise, logical business.
Something he’d done dozens of times during his nearly ten years since he’d opened Shelby Law Office.
Business. Not some kind of guided-by-invisible-powers miracle.
And because he was bothered by her comment, he had to bring the point home strong. “It’s what you’re paying me for,” he said succinctly.
Something that wasn’t yet technically true. There was still no official agreement between him and St. James Boats.
Nor was he planning to charge the business for hooking Kirk up with them. More like he was doing a favor for a friend—his high school buddy, not Dove St. James.
He would oversee the employment contract, however.
And update the one Whaler had with his one remaining full-time employee, Wes Armstrong.
And should get something in writing with Lyle Morris, the college kid who was helping out for the summer.
For all he knew, Kirk and Lyle knew each other.
Stood to reason since they were only a few years apart in age.
Something to keep in mind, to ask Kirk about when they met up.
If there was jealousy or any kind of bad blood between the two, he’d want to see that both men were able to get along at work before he suggested that Dove leave them alone on the dock with Wes.
Whaler’s senior employee did not need employee-relation problems on his hands.
Energized by the thoughts, back to doing what he did and did well—taking care of his clients’ business interests and preventing disasters—Mitchell was almost eager to get off the mountain and back to town. He was back in control of his world, himself again.
Right up until at the marina where, after the grocery incident, they’d decided to store her car that afternoon before leaving on their hike, Dove got in the passenger seat of his vehicle to ride home with him.
“It’s like a miracle,” she said, beaming in her usual way. Something he hadn’t seen since her father had gone missing. The glow hit him in the gut. Hard.
He knew it would fade. Kansas had called in again to let him know there were still no signs of Bob St. James, nor did they have any viable leads. Which meant they were forced to take each road, each trail, each overhang one at a time. Her team would be at it again at first light.
“Kirk is just what St. James Boats needed!” Dove continued to gush.
“And the idea you two came up with, him captaining Wicked Winnings three times a week to bring in a serious catch to sell, providing fresh halibut and salmon for the grocery store and for The Cove, too, is brilliant. The cash flow from that alone will be a boon. Dad’s only been in the boat rental business for others to fish for sport and recreation, but making fish a part of our business is just the step we need, and now with Kirk onboard, we can actually implement the idea. ”
“We still have to talk to the businesses to see if they’ll buy what Wicked Winnings brings in,” he warned, trying to let her down easy before he got to the tough stuff.
“Even if they don’t go for it, you know locals will come down to the dock to buy fresh catch less expensively, and it’s pretty much a given, with the discount you suggested, that the grocery store and The Cove will be on board.”