Chapter 2
Chapter Two
Sam rolled onto her back and reached for her phone to turn off the alarm.
Wait.
That wasn’t her alarm .
The music continued to blast through the screen door across from her bed, a light breeze bringing in each verse loud and clear. She sat up on her elbows, blinking to clear her vision. Who in the hell was playing music this loud so early in the morning?
Not that she minded a little Olivia Rodrigo—but not at this hour. What was the time? She tapped her phone. 7:05 am. Ugh . As she looked back outside, a van came into view through the yard, parking beside one of the caravans. The driver’s door opened, and the music increased in volume. The guy came around the other side of the van and slid the door open.
Wow , just when she thought it couldn’t get any louder.
Getting out his toolbox, he flicked a rag over his shoulder and moved to the closest caravan to start working, leaving the song to continue its serenade to the entire marina.
Literally.
There was a reason people called it a fishbowl—sound travelled.
The chorus of Good 4 U belted out loud and clear. Good for him, indeed. Now here’s hoping he’d move on from the yard and give her some peace and quiet.
She fell back down on the bed, lying there for a few more minutes hoping the noise would cease. Nope. She groaned, got out of bed, slid on her slippers and walked—no, stomped— down the stairs. Time for some peace and quiet.
She pushed open her front door and headed straight towards the van looking extra stylish in her grey sweats, old white T-shirt and the messy bun she’d managed to pull up on the way out. Nothing quite like a just-got-out-of-bed getup to give someone a piece of her mind.
She marched right up behind the guy. “Excuse me! Can you please turn the music down? This is a residential area where people are trying to sleep and?—”
Sam stopped, momentarily stunned. “Taylor?”
Now that she was up close, she recognised the cargo pants and boots combo Taylor had on the day before—sans her Feeling Nauti top, which had been replaced with a cleaner polo shirt.
Taylor at least had the decency to look sheepish as she placed her tools down and quickly jogged over to the van, opening the passenger door and reaching over to turn down the music to a quiet, appropriate level.
“Sorry,” she said, turning back to Sam and running a hand through her short hair with a sigh. “It’s been a rough morning. Or, more like a rough week.” She gave a weak laugh. “I didn’t mean to bother you,”—she looked her up and down—“or wake you.” She grimaced.
“All good. The noise is down. Problem solved,” Sam replied with a smile and a relieved sigh. She noted the weariness in Taylor’s face, the dark rings under her eyes. “Sorry to hear you’ve had a bad week. Here’s to a better day ahead then. And, uh, no more spilled coffees, yeah?”
“Ha. Thanks, I’ll just be giving this girl a service and an exterior detail.” Taylor patted the back of the caravan.
“Nice. Are you, like, a caravan mechanic?”
“Kind of?” Taylor replied with just as much of a question in her tone. She unclipped one of the side hatches. “I work on caravans and boats, doing servicing and maintenance. I did the whole van life thing for a couple of years around Australia, which taught me a lot . I enjoyed it enough, so I started up my own business when I got back.”
She ducked her head into the hatch and flipped a couple of switches before turning back to Sam. “I love tinkering, fixing things and seeing people smile when their pride and joys are brought back to their prime. You should see this van by the end of the day. Once it’s had a polish and I’ve resprayed the A-frame, it’s going to come up mint.”
“Gosh, if only everyone had as much passion for their job as you do.” Sam laughed, knowing full well she definitely did not . She wished she did. She knew she didn’t want to be working at the family shop any longer than she had to. She wanted to be living on Manny already, sailing off into the sunset. It wasn’t a career, but it was her dream.
Taylor’s cheeks dusted pink. “Sorry. Please tell me to shut up. I can talk way too much about boring things like vans, and here you are, standing there clearly just woken up in your PJs thanks to me. You don’t need me yabbering your ear off first thing in the morning.”
“I don’t mind. I’m sure I could talk your ear off right back with boats, to be fair. But, with that said, I really should get back and start getting ready for work anyway. I’ll leave you to it.”
“See you round. And sorry again about the music. I’ll keep it at low angsty levels this time,” Taylor said with a grin, a dimple appearing on her right cheek.
With a small wave, Sam headed back with a smile on her face. That wasn’t the interaction she thought she’d be having after how she’d woken up. For the second day in a row Taylor—whoever she was—was definitely making her days more interesting.
It was nice.
Although now she thought about it, she wondered just what had Taylor wanting to blast that song so loud in the first place, and what had made her week so bad? It surely couldn’t have been just over a spilt coffee? Not that it was any of her business, she didn’t even know her.
Sam shook her head, thinking about what she needed to get done today. Not on the maintenance worker who seemed to keep popping up in her life all of a sudden.
Garner Marine was bustling again. It wasn’t much to look at from the outside, but the reputation the business had built meant people flocked to the shop. If you wanted old-school service, you went to Garner’s. Need nuts and bolts? Got ‘em. That thingymajig to fit on the rudder? There’s probably one of those sitting in the second hand section (it’s called a pintle, by the way). The shop brought in all walks of life, some days you loved the customers, and other days you wanted to hide in the kitchen. Today was a kitchen day.
Sam 1:56pm:
Alex, why does Sausage Fingers always need to use our toilet after wandering around the shop for half an hour without buying a single thing?
Sam held her phone, waiting for her best friend’s response. The dots began bouncing almost immediately. Sausage Fingers—actual name Henry—was a short, older man who looked like Santa Claus but with short stumpy hands. He was a regular, who regularly wasted her time and spent absolutely no money.
Alex 1:58pm:
Because you give him the shits?
Sam 1:59pm:
Ha. ha. I’m still trying to air out the kitchen area. How’s work for you?
She sprayed another round of her favourite lime and mandarin air freshener.
So. Much. Better.
Alex 2:02pm:
Busy. Vanessa spent the morning asking me how to save an Excel spreadsheet again… You’re the manager, Vanessa, YOU figure it out.
Why am I so competent sometimes? I swear it’s actually a disservice to getting your own shit done. I did get my reports sent off on time, so there’s that.
Anything exciting happening in the life of Sam today? No more emergency coffee spills?
Sam 2:06pm:
No, but funny story.
Got woken up by loud music in the yard, went to tell them off, and turns out it was coffee spill girl from yesterday.
Her name’s Taylor btw. We ended up chatting for a bit and she was nice. Even if I was in my PJs at the time - awkward!
Alex 2:07pm:
Ha! That’s gold. Well don’t befriend her too much. I’m still firmly in Best Friend position #1!
Sam 2:07pm:
Never!
Sam slipped her phone back in her pocket and headed up to the counter. The buzzer had already gone off a few times, so there had to be a few people milling about the shop. Sure enough there were already customers at the front, and her dad was giving her “ help ” eyes.
“Hi, are you looking for anything in particular?” she said to a couple over by the ropes. “Yes, we’re wanting to get some Spectra. Around twenty metres, please,” the woman replied, while the man continued to look around.
“Good timing! We’ve just got some new reels in this week. Are you after the 6mm or 8mm?”
“Gary, was it the 8mm Spectra?” the woman asked her husband.
“Yep!” came the call down the other end of the aisle. Sam could see he was now hunched over the navigational lights, completely in his own world. She reached up to the 8mm and started pulling the rope down the middle of the shop to measure it out. Just as she got to the five metre line by the anchors, she whacked her elbow on something hard.
“Oof!”
“Ow!”
Sam turned around and came face to face with Taylor. Again . Okay, seriously, this was getting to be some kind of joke. How many times could she run into someone within a twenty-four-hour period? Taylor was looking much more relaxed than this morning, even after just getting jabbed in the back with an elbow. Sam looked down, she was also now sporting a tool belt. Very cool. If only she could rock a tool belt and look half as good. At least she had a toolbox on her boat. That was something, right? Okay, now she was staring. She shook her head.
“Okay, now it’s my turn to apologise; I did not see you there.” Sam laughed, trying (and failing) to play it cool as she fumbled with the rope. What was going on with her?
“And here I thought our third time meeting would be a charm.” Taylor flashed her a grin.
“It’s certainly been… something. Beats my usual drudgery at the shop,” Sam smiled back. “So, what brings you back here this time?”
“Well, now I know your shop exists, I thought I’d see if you guys sell silicone here?”
“We sure do. Just down that aisle at the bottom, on the right.”
“Great, thanks.”
Sam finished up with the rope sale and was popping the last few coins in the till when Taylor came up to the counter with an armful of gear.
“Looks like you’ve found more than just the silicone.”
“You’ve got way more in here than I expected. That second hand section is a gold mine! It’s like the most random things… but things you need. Or at least, I’m telling myself I need them.” She laughed, holding up a dog’s life jacket.
“Tell me about it. I work here and I’m forever grabbing things for Manny out of the second hand.”
“Sorry, who’s Manny?”
“Oh, my yacht. It’s a 37ft Duncanson I’ve been doing up. I’m currently doing the rewiring, and boy is that doing my head in.”
“That’s wicked! Well if you ever get stuck, I might know someone who could assist with that sort of thing.” Taylor winked.
“Really? Oh, of course. I might just take you up on that offer.” Sam started writing down the amounts for Taylor’s purchase. “It feels like I’m trying to sort out a bird’s nest at the moment. All I wanted to do was install a new speaker system, and now I’ve opened up a whole can of worms. It’s like once you see the problem, you can’t unsee it.”
“I totally empathise. You should see some of the new caravans I’ve serviced. The wiring is shot from the get-go, some placed in the wrong plugs, others not even soldered on. It’s a joke. I feel sorry for some of these people paying top dollar and the companies fobbing them off for months until they end up finding people like me who can actually come fix the problem and get them on their merry way for their next trip.” Taylor took in a big breath. “Annnnd I’m talking too much again,” she said, looking sheepish.
“Not at all. I find it interesting. Plus, there’s no other customers in here at the moment, so I can chat.” She looked around to see where her dad was and saw he’d ducked out the front with another customer to fill up their gas bottle. “So who’s the lucky one that gets to wear this life jacket?” Sam asked, popping the bright yellow device in a bag.
“That’s for Belle. She’s my English staffy. Built like a tank, but soft as butter. She’s still a pup, only six months old, and not a fan of being in the water at all , but I really want to try her out on my paddleboard one time. So now I’ve found this,”—she pointed at the jacket—“I don’t have any excuses not to take her out with me next time.”
“Aww, that’s awesome! I hope she loves it. Have you tried paddleboarding in the marina? If you’re lucky, there might be a dolphin or two hanging about, usually in the mornings though.”
“I hadn’t, no. I usually head down to the beach near my place and badly attempt to surf in a gentle wave or two. Or sometimes I’ll just paddle from one jetty to another. I’ll have to try out the marina one time though. Thanks for the tip.”
“You’re welcome.” Sam bagged up the rest of Taylor’s items, who paid and made a move to leave.
“Thanks again for your help yesterday. You were such a lifesaver, and I haven’t forgotten about your shirt either; I just haven’t washed it yet. I promise I’ll get it back to you soon.”
“Totally fine, no rush from my end, and happy to help. Enjoy the rest of your day.”
Taylor saluted with her tube of silicone and left.
“Who was that?” her dad enquired as he popped back around the counter.
“Her name’s Taylor. She’s working on one of the vans in the yard, and I helped her out yesterday with a little coffee and wardrobe malfunction while you were fuelling up a boat.”
“Righto, any other entertaining things I missed?”
“Sausage Fingers using our toilet again?” Her dad scrunched up his face. “Thank god I’ve already gone to lunch today.”
“You and me both.”