Chapter 19 – Violet
Gran left to return the extra dresses, and I closed the shop, walking home in my street clothes to change and fuss over my hair and makeup.
Getting ready at the Salty Pantry wasn’t an option.
I’d regret it later when I was freezing my tits off, but I needed the tall boots at the back of my closet and a warm shawl to complete my look for tonight.
Lee and I had maintained radio silence all day. I felt bad for abandoning him with his ankle still in the boot, but Drew or Zach would pick up my slack. Lee hadn’t been shy about including my entire family, including Gran, in his end of the shenanigans, so I let the guilt go.
The walk to the ferry dock felt a little like a procession. My neighbors all seemed to have found a reason to hang around their front yards, though there wasn’t much yardwork to do in late January. One by one, they fell in behind me, like baby ducks in a very nosy line.
I lifted my chin and kept marching. There was no room for doubt now. No space for second thoughts. I’d set this in motion. Now all that was left was to brazen through.
Anya waited for me on the corner in front of the studio, grinning at my entourage. “Everyone’s looking forward to the show.”
My skin prickled with excitement, anticipation making my steps light. It’d been years since I heard Lee play.
By the time Anya and I met Rae and Lucy at the dock, we’d picked up a crowd.
Rae ushered me to one of the lawn chairs she’d set up at the ferry landing.
There’d already been too big a crowd of onlookers at Harbor Brews.
It felt like half the town had turned out.
Lucy tossed me a blanket, and Rae passed me an insulated mug.
“Coffee from Harbor Brews.”
“Thanks,” I said. “This is quite the setup.”
Rae rolled her eyes. “You know the interisland ferry.”
“It’ll get here when it gets here.”
I half expected one of the ferry system staff to scold us for the chairs and coffee, but they were more concerned with lining up cars for the next sailing.
The Friday Harbor ferry dock combined walk-on and drive-on traffic.
Cars lined up in the holding lanes an hour or more in advance.
Walk-up passengers had an easier process.
A special dock with bench seating offered a view of the harbor.
Most walk-on passengers visited the local businesses, getting coffee or snacks for their trip before boarding.
Tonight, the passenger dock was crowded, but I had a feeling it had more to do with the drama playing out between Lee and me than a desire to travel off-island.
It would have served us right if the winds had blown up, making the water choppy, but we’d lucked into a beautiful evening for ferry-spotting.
The sun was sinking behind the hills to the west, bathing the water in a golden glow, each ripple a glittery ribbon.
The moon rose over the horizon, pale and luminously beautiful.
I sipped my coffee, enjoying the warmth and grateful for the chair and blanket.
Scanning the crowd, I raised my mug in a silent toast to Gran, who had her own bank of chairs on the patio at Harbor Brews with Ollie Reyes.
My mom and dad sat to Gran’s left, with Zach to her right.
Drew stepped up behind them, scanning the horizon.
Taking my private spat with Lee public was out of character for me, and everyone in town seemed to realize it.
Anticipate the drama. Maybe I underestimated my potential for dragon-hood.
Or maybe it was knowing Lee was as private as I was, yet willing to make a spectacle of himself for me, that gave me courage.
The MV Yakima floated around the corner of Brown Island, and a cheer erupted from the assembled townspeople. The visitors looked confused by the locals cheering their daily mode of transportation, exchanging wary glances with raised brows like maybe we’d expected the boat to sink.
Just as fast as the cheer went up, we fell silent. Straining to hear the music.
Once a month, the interisland ferry hosted an informal jam session.
The organizers posted on What’s New, Friday Harbor, gathering any music fans to sing, play, or just hang out and float between the islands.
I’d never been much of a musician, but I’d lucked into the musical sailing a time or two, coming back from a weekend on Lopez or Shaw Island.
It cast a unique magic each time. A mix of ethereal and homey that only made me love the San Juan Islands more.
The MV Yakima cut through the water toward the dock. It’d be impossible to hear the music over the ferry’s giant engines, but that didn’t stop me from trying.
Slowly, the boat docked, the giant gangway falling to connect the boat to shore. The captain cut the engines, and we could finally hear it. Delicate music floated on the night air, tantalizing with its wispy notes.
It drew me forward, and I heeded the call, leaving my blanket and coffee behind to walk the dock and approach the ferry.
The musicians had set up on the forward deck.
At first, the walk-on passengers eager to disembark hid them, but as the ferry workers released them to head to shore, the mash of bodies cleared.
My chest tightened at the sight of him – not surprise, but from the way my body seemed to betray me every time he was near. Recognition first, longing after, like a reflex I couldn’t unlearn.
He leaned against a tall stool, strumming gently as he crooned the lyrics to “Dancing Queen.” Lee. He’d dressed for the occasion. I didn’t even know he owned a tux. His white shirt was crisp against the black jacket and slacks.
A handful of musicians accompanied him on guitars, ukeleles, and at least one tambourine.
The observers seemed to hold their collective breath as the song finished.
Lee held my gaze, and my heart melted. He’d risen to my silly challenge beautifully. He’d more than earned his laptop back. Not that it had traveled far. I’d tucked it into the bottom drawer of his desk in his office.
“Violet Fenwick, will you go to the Sweetheart’s Dance with me? Call it a second-chance prom. Or better yet, your birthday present.” He projected his voice so it boomed across the distance between us, easily drowning out the foot traffic as ferry passengers crossed. His eyes twinkled.
A small smile flirted with the corner of my mouth. I hadn’t been the only one thinking about rewriting the past. It wasn’t Homecoming, but the town’s annual Valentine’s fundraiser was an excellent substitute.
Now Gran’s insistence on a second dress made sense.
I’d wanted him to stake a claim without regard to town gossip. Tonight, he’d made my girlish dreams come true. The light in his blue eyes told me he wanted a shot at making the grown-up ones a reality too.
“Yes, Lee. I’d love to.”
A cheer went up from our spectators, and I laughed, wiping surreptitiously at the moisture gathering at the corner of my eyes. The musicians disembarked, and the ferry staff began unloading cars.
Lee approached, more handsome than I could have imagined in his suit. The dark fabric emphasized his broad shoulders. I rested my hands on his lapels, smoothing them between fingers that trembled.
“Where did you get this?” I focused on the white fabric until I felt I could look at him without drowning him in sappy tears.
Lee crowded closer, the thunk of his boot echoing on the dock as he walked me backward until I pressed against the ferry terminal wall, sheltering me with his bulk. Maybe he sensed the emotion I was trying to contain. “My closet.”
He pulled back just enough to take in the black dress that hugged my breasts, revealing a generous slice of cleavage. “You look gorgeous, by the way. I’m glad there was something you liked among the things I picked out.”
“I thought you let the shops choose?”
“Oh, no, Cupcake. I wouldn’t trust that to just anyone.” His voice was calm, even gruff, but the low rasp of it skated along my nerves. Finding the raw places I tried to hide.
“When did you have time?” I’d posted my musical challenge only that morning. I figured he’d grab his instrument from his closet and hit the ferry docks, not plan a whole promposal.
His grin was a white slash in the growing shadows. “Yesterday.”
Shock held me immobile. That was what I got for trying to outwit him.
“But that was before I issued my latest ransom challenge on What’s New, Friday Harbor.”
“But not before I knew I wanted to ask you to the dance.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Never forget, I plot murders for a living. Plotting for the living is a piece of cake.”
He swayed toward me, sending heat crawling up my throat. If he kept looking at me like that, I’d unravel long before I was ready.
“Are you implying I’m an amateur, Murphy?”
“Not at all, Vi. You had me in a full panic until you insisted I check for lost and found posts.”
“I had to get at least a little revenge.” I pinched my fingers together.
I shivered, and he gathered me close, arms wrapped around me, tugging me into the shelter of his big body. I told myself it was just Lee being Lee, but it betrayed a new intimacy between us. One I craved. With his touch, the ferry passengers and townspeople faded to nothing.
“Does this mean I get a clean slate?” His voice dropped low and rough, sending a curling heat through my body.
It was hard to believe he’d let anything come between us after his ferry performance. After the sheer amount of planning that went into this evening.
“I’ll think about it...” His smile was just a brief twitch of his lips, but I doubted I was fooling him with my cagey response. He knew he had me. I waited for a beat more. “Okay, I’ve thought about it,” I said airily. “And you’re forgiven.”
“Just what I wanted to hear.”
His warmth enveloped me, and I snuggled closer. The faint scent of salt and seaweed drifted on the wind, Lee’s own notes of cedar and sage adding to the mix as I inhaled him. My skin felt prickly. Too tight.