Chapter 5 #2
Maddie didn’t want to say she’d chosen that career mostly to please her father.
Not unlike why she’d married Rafe’s father.
But that it now felt as if, like Owen, Green Hills College—and teaching—had run its course.
Rather than belaboring all that, she simply said, “I’m ready for a change, Grandma, and this feels like something worth looking into. And I do love books.”
As much as she would not do this intending to try and please Stephen again, the shop might give him a reason to come to the island and be with them in the summer, though she did not mention that to Grandma now.
“What do you think, Grandma? Should I find out more?”
The old woman fidgeted on the Adirondack chair, then stood up. “Actually, what I think is it’s October and I’m freezing my behind off. As for opening a bookshop, I think you’re off your rocker.”
Before Maddie digested Grandma Nancy’s comment, the woman tottered off into the cabin, her toasty shawl dragging behind her.
The next day, Joe took Grandma to visit her friend, Winnie Lathrop.
Maddie was relieved; she’d be tied up teaching an online class, which was easier to accomplish when her grandmother wasn’t installed in the living room, four feet from where Maddie sat at the table with her laptop.
As comfortable as Rex’s cabin was for two, the space didn’t work well when one of them had to Zoom.
On top of that, the class that day was boring, the students seemingly as disinterested in talking about methods of journalism as Maddie was in sharing them.
When class was over, she decided that, off her rocker or not, she wanted more information before ditching the bookshop idea. And the best place to get it might be from Arnie himself. So she put on a sweater and drove to Menemsha Harbor.
A sign taped to the window of the bait shop read: CLOSING FOR GOOD. LAST DAY SUNDAY OCT. 26. So, he really wouldn’t be reopening. And another business could move in.
Noticing that the interior lights were on, Maddie tried the door handle; the door swung open.
A strong fishy smell greeted her; she didn’t want to imagine what it would cost to make it go away.
Instead, she scrutinized the interior layout; it looked bigger than she’d expected, though picturing it as a charming little bookshop was difficult, what with rippled pegboards on the walls, rows of rusted metal shelving, and old refrigerated coolers lining the perimeter.
“Help you?” The voice wasn’t enthusiastic; it came from between the shelving that was mostly empty.
As Maddie moved toward the sound, an elderly man appeared. He wore a long rubber apron, knee-high boots, and a faded baseball cap bearing the shop’s logo above the brim. If she’d ever seen him, she didn’t recognize him now.
“You’re closing on the twenty-sixth?” she asked.
“I am. But if you’re looking for deals, you’re too late. Yesterday one of my competitors scooped up my tackle inventory—rods and reels, hooks and lures—the whole kit and caboodle. Got plenty of bait, though. If you’re planning on fishin’.”
She thought of the worms and quickly shook her head. “Not for me, thanks. But I’ve been thinking about buying a tackle box for my son for Christmas.” She told herself she’d lied for a greater good.
“Sorry, they’re gone. Check Nate’s place down-island in a couple of weeks.”
“Thanks. I’ll do that. It’s too bad you’re leaving, though.
” She looked out the windows across the back wall and saw what appeared to be a deck between the shop and a walkway that edged the water in the harbor.
Several more coolers cluttered the space out there, but a cheerful paint job and a few café tables could create a nice area for summer customers to sip Grandma’s teas and snack on treats.
The man frowned. “I’m eighty-three. It’s time to retire.”
“My goodness. You don’t look eighty-three.” That, too, was a lie, as his face had more lines than a 1960s Rand McNally road map. Perhaps he’d spent too many years in sunshine winking off sea water.
Arnie laughed as if he knew she was being kind.
“Are you moving off-island?” she asked. “Somewhere south?”
“Like Florida? Could you picture a guy like me living there?”
“Well. It’s warmer than here.” Of course, she knew that Florida was nowhere near New Hampshire, where Arnie’s nephew supposedly lived.
He shook his head. “Nope. But I am moving off. Going to my nephew’s in New Hampshire.
” Again, the “ah” sound of Boston rolled off the last syllable of Hampshire.
“My lease isn’t up ’til the end of the year,” he continued, “but I want to be outta here by Halloween. Seems appropriate, seeing as how change can be scary.” He snorted at his joke.
Maddie nodded. “Well, good luck to you then.”
“And good luck finding a tackle box.”
With what she hoped would be seen as a pleasant wave, she let herself out of the bait shop and walked down Basin Road toward the driveway that led up to Grandma’s cottage.
If she was going to be serious about this, she’d need to gather as much information as possible.
Rex’s brother-in-law, Kevin, had been a building contractor in Boston before relocating to the Vineyard; he should know what it would take for the transformation.
Once he was done with the restoration and renovations to Grandma’s cottage.