Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Nate
N ate had been running his boat repair shop for a little over six years. His father had opened the shop when Nate was a young boy, and it had always been a dream of Nate to continue the tradition. Some days, however, it seemed like a thankless endeavour.
No one ever seemed to come by. It was heart-breaking. He opened the shop doors faithfully every morning, hopeful that the day would bring some business. He had a few regulars, but they were few and far between. Nate resigned himself to his own lonesome company, filling the space with boat parts and tools.
Despite being a lone wolf, the idea of finding a wife fascinated Nate. In his more honest moments, he wished for his father to come back. To share the joys of boat repair with him, a fellow enthusiast who could appreciate the beauty of his trade. He wanted someone to chat with, to share stories, and to laugh with. His father had moved off Copper Island with his mum six years ago when he could see the business was slowing down. Cynthia had systematically run the island like she didn’t care. His mum and dad regularly offered him a job at the mechanic’s workshop on the mainland, where plenty of business fixing boats were on the harbourside.
Nate wanted to stay on Copper Island. He liked island life.
Still, without fail, Nate opened the doors of his shop every morning with a smile on his face. He was determined to keep his father’s business alive and didn’t plan on giving up anytime soon.
Nate had always been a bit of an introvert, so the solitary nature of his job didn’t bother him too much. In fact, he was often content to just sit in the workshop’s corner, tinkering away at whatever project he had set his mind on. He enjoyed the peace and quiet, taking solace in the fact that he was working towards a greater goal.
With the passing of time, Nate developed an affinity for his new place of work. After all, it was his, and he was proud of the progress he had made. He had slowly but surely transformed the shop into a haven for boat repair.
Nate took in the details of his workspace, noticing the small things like the creaky floorboards, tatty yellow armchair and the pungent oil smell. He had become so familiar with the space that it almost felt like a second home. Even in the silence, he could find solace and comfort from his labours.
Nate boiled the kettle and made a cup of strong tea. Snatching up the packet of chocolate digestives still in the packet, he went to the side opening of his workshop and shouldered the door open to a smaller workspace. In the centre was his prized possession, his Kawasaki GPZ750. There wasn’t much road on Copper Island, but he wanted a project to work on with all his downtime and to learn to restore something other than boats.
He had to diversify if he wanted to stay. His revenue was down so much from the previous year, he was grateful he no longer needed to pay any taxes, or so he hoped.
A bang on the door brought him out of his thoughts an hour later. His best mate, Selly, stuck his head around the door.
The door was ajar, a sliver of light between the door and door frame. Selly’s face was one of concern and intrigue. A hint of grease and gas, the smell of warm oil, and the aroma of pollen carried in the wind wafted around as he pulled the door open wider. The door’s hinges creaked as Selly eased it open.
“Hey, Nate. You coming out tonight?”
“Maybe. What time is everyone meeting?”
“About eight in the pub,” Selly said, taking a closer look at the bike Nate was working on. “You finished it yet?”
“I can’t ride it yet, but it’s not far off.”
“It’s looking good. How’s business?”
Selly, his friend since school, was a florist. He had a piece of land as part of his parents’ property and grew tulips, then shipped them to the mainland. Unless they had a freak weather front, Selly’s business wasn’t likely to go quiet. Not even Cynthia Turner could spoil the flowers.
“Slower than normal.”
“Don’t forget to phone that free helpline. They’ll be able to help with the tax questions.”
“I will. I’ll do that soon.”
“Make sure you do. It will be one less thing to worry about. I’ll see you at the pub. First round’s on me,” Selly said and then was gone.