6. Chapter 6 – Lucy
I rolled out of bed and straight into work clothes, hitting up my coffee maker before immersing myself in my latest project.
Technically, I was open to the public from one to close five days a week in the summer and four during the slow months.
But I often forgot to flip the sign to “open,” choosing to sell most of my work to collectors through the local art studio. I wasn’t cut out for retail.
Chaz Underwood ran the local arts scene, hosting showings in his gallery, Island Muse. He was on the slimy side, mid-fifties and slick in that former frat-boy kind of way. Lots of teeth and smiles. But he knew his business.
In addition to hosting the charity show for the National Parks Service volunteers, he held regular shows featuring my glasswork and other local artisans.
I stepped back, eyeing the chandelier globes I spent the morning polishing.
Round and in iridescent shades of blues and greens, they were meant to resemble the old glass floats used in the ocean before plastic alternatives became common.
Hints of silver threaded each orb. It'd be stunning entryway art for the Roche Harbor restaurant.
Their owners commissioned the piece, and it promised to be gorgeous when finished.
I chugged half of my water bottle, wiping sweat from my nape.
The ache in my shoulders burned, tired muscles reminding me it’d been hours since my last break.
My stomach grumbled, and I picked up my phone, pausing my music.
It was past noon. My friend Anya had texted, inviting me to meet her for lunch at the park.
I had enough time to make it if I hurried.
I dashed off a response and scooped up a protein bar and soda, walking the couple of blocks to the marina.
Anya waved from a picnic table beneath the trees. She’d covered her yoga gear with a long flannel shirt that was too big for her lithe figure. Probably one of Drew Fenwick’s.
“Hey,” she greeted me with a gentle smile as I slid onto the bench across from her. “I wasn’t sure if you’d make it.”
“Sorry, got caught up in a project. No Violet or Rae today?” I asked.
Anya shook her head, her long blonde braid whipping across her shoulders with the motion. “Vi was too busy at the shop, and Rae already had plans with Zach.”
Violet Fenwick ran a local boutique selling her family’s sea salt blends, the Salty Pantry.
Her brother Zach and our other friend Rae had recently become a couple.
They’d taken to having “lunch” together whenever they could sneak away.
I avoided glancing at Rae’s sailboat down at the dock.
If Sailor Swift was rocking… their boots were probably knocking.
“How was your first night of art classes?” Anya asked, eyes dancing as if she already knew the answer.
“Fine. The kids seem eager, and the adults had a lot of fun.”
“Are you sure you can call them adults, if Gran’s involved?” Anya asked, her lips twitching.
I lifted one shoulder. “Maybe not, but she brought wine, so I can’t complain too much.”
Anya’s cheeks stretched into a full grin. “You haven’t seen What’s New, Friday Harbor yet today, have you?”
My eyes narrowed. Half bitch session, half useful information, our local social page was the hub of island gossip. “What now?”
“Gran previewed her art to ‘drum up excitement’ for the upcoming show.”
“Of course she did.” I shook my head. “I’m surprised my phone isn’t blowing up.”
“Me too. I bet Clay’s is.”
“Lovely.”
“Don’t be surprised if you get an extra art docent at your next class to keep an eye on her.”
“It’ll only encourage her.”
“I know that, and you know that. I doubt Clay does.”
Having Clay supervise was a distraction I didn’t need. I dropped my head into my hands, rubbing at my temples. Anya chuckled.
“It won’t be that bad.” She paused, considering. “Though, if you haven’t Gran-proofed your projects, Clay might see himself in her artwork. She wouldn’t be shy about using him as a model, and he is a fine-looking man.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to disagree, but I’d be lying. Clay was gorgeous. An artist’s dream. High cheekbones, sculpted jaw. Soulful brown eyes. And his body…
“I’ve already bought the supplies.”
“Then I can’t wait to see the show. It’ll be worth the ticket just to see the culture clash.” Anya arched one delicate brow. “How is it going, working with Clay?”
“Fine.”
“There’s that word again.”
“What? I have nothing to report.” He didn’t actually kiss me. That would have been newsworthy.
She couldn’t quite hide her smirk. We sniped at each other too often for her to believe we could work together smoothly.
I shifted under her knowing gaze. “We’re mostly getting along.”
“Hm.” Anya packed up her food containers, stowing them in the cute blue tote she used for her lunch bag. “Want to walk along the dock before we head back to work? I have about twenty minutes before my next yoga class.”
“Sure.” It would help work out the kinks from bending over chandelier pieces all morning.
We walked along the weathered dock. A breeze blew gently from the west, carrying the scents I associated with the sea and boats: kelp and diesel fuel.
We passed the dock reserved for sea planes and the commercial dock.
Tide Chaser was in its slip. The tour boat had lost its captain, Jordan Dawkins, in the spring.
Rae’s cousin hadn’t found someone else to take over the business yet.
Jordan’s second mate, Brandon, had recently gone to jail for breaking into his former partner’s house.
Anya seemed to sense the direction of my thoughts. “Any news on Brandon Chen?”
“Still in jail, as far as I know.”
Anya shivered. “Do you think he did it?”
“Pushing Jordan Dawkins off a cliff or breaking into his house later?”
“The first one.”
I rolled my lower lip beneath my teeth. Brandon was a slippery bastard. He’d claimed to be off-island during Jordan’s accident. But was he really?
“I don’t know. But if he was involved in Jordan’s death, at least he’s getting a sliver of justice. Did the sheriff figure out what Brandon was searching for at Jordan and Jia’s house?”
Anya frowned, shaking her head. “The safe was empty. She let the sheriff take it as evidence though.”
We reached the end of the dock, watching as the Yakima came into the ferry terminal. The speed at which the big boats docked always impressed me. Only a few minutes later, walk-on passengers disembarked, scooting toward Front Street.
Reluctantly, I turned from watching the water, making a circuit of the other docks with Anya.
By silent agreement, we approached Rae’s sailboat, berthed next to Zach’s.
Our friend lived on her boat full-time. I was too high-maintenance for a liveaboard situation.
The public showers at the marina on a winter morning were not my idea of a good time.
I shuddered. No, thank you . Not even for this view.
We reached the end of their dock and turned. A familiar head popped up from below deck as we approached Sailor Swift .
“Hey, Zach. Fancy meeting you here.” Anya’s tone was playful. Zach’s brown hair was mussed, and he’d misbuttoned his shirt.
He wrinkled his nose. “Is my brother not giving you enough noontime attention, Anya? I can talk to him about that if you like.” He puffed out his chest. “Make sure he’s treating you right.”
“I don’t need a nooner to know Drew loves me.”
Zach grinned, his dimples flashing. “But it doesn’t hurt.”
Rae popped up beside him, one hand on his shoulder. “You giving away all of our secrets, Fenwick?”
He captured her mouth in a quick smacking kiss. “Nope.”
“Liar.” Rae said it without heat. “Hey. Sorry I missed you for lunch today.”
I snorted. “No. You’re not.”
She lifted one shoulder. “True. I’m not.” She stretched on tiptoes, kissing Zach before slapping him on the ass. “Lunch is over.”
Zach danced away, laughing. “I know when I’m not wanted.” He stepped easily onto the dock. “Ladies.” He tipped an imaginary hat.
Rae watched as he strode away whistling a jaunty tune that might have been “Afternoon Delight,” her eyes soft and dreamy. The obvious affection between her and Zach made my heart clench. What would it be like to have that kind of connection? That kind of love?
“Is Clay driving you crazy yet?” Rae stepped onto the dock. Her coveralls sported streaks of grease at the knees. But at least she’d gotten the buttons right.
“Clay’s fine.”
“There’s that word again,” Anya teased, suppressing a smile.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Just for you, I’ll work on expanding my vocabulary.”
Rae giggled, the girlish sound too musical to let me hold on to my temper. Anya and Rae were still giddy, reveling in new love. I didn’t need to rain on their parade.
We walked back to Front Street together, going our separate ways with a promise to meet up for a hike on South Beach Saturday.