“Are you kidding me with this?”
From the shore, Sam looked even taller behind the wheel of her boat. Tall and pissed off.
“I could ask you the same question,” Sara said. “How did you even see me out here?”
“Believe it or not, we tend to notice empty ski boats drifting across the lake with no occupants.” Sam picked up her radio and spoke into it, keeping her eyes locked on Sara.
Sara waited, the warm glow of the sun reminding her of how happy she’d been before Sam had shown up. There had to be thirty search and rescue officers in countless boats; Sara saw them every day from her kitchen window as they sped by. Why did Sam have to be the one to see her in the cove?
“I’m going to assume you don’t have your boating license yet?” Sam raised her eyebrows, not trying to hide the sarcasm in her voice.
“No, Captain Draper,” Sara said, matching her tone, “I do not.”
“Did you drive the boat here?”
Sara felt her patience start to thin. “No,” she said, “I walked.”
Sara heard the radio crackle again and Sam spoke into it for a few seconds before she turned back to Sara.
“I’m going to need you to get into my boat and I’ll have another officer pick up yours. You do realize I can arrest you and impound it, right?”
Sara ignored her and walked out until she was chest deep, then swam the few strokes it took to reach Sam’s boat. She climbed up the ladder on the side and stepped in, suddenly very aware she was wearing a black lace bra and panties under a wet white tank top, water streaming down her body.
“You’re seriously going to arrest me?”
Sam smiled, averting her eyes a second later than she should have.
“I should arrest you; I happen to know you’ve been warned about driving without a license,” she said, sliding on a pair of sunglasses. “But I’m going to write you a ticket this time.”
Sara squeezed the water from her tank top and focused on staying calm; she knew she was past the point of frustration. “Why do you have it in for me?”
“Sara,” Sam said, the muscles in her arms flexing as she gripped the steering wheel harder than necessary and turned the patrol boat around toward Sara’s cabin. “Do you realize there are kids in the water out here?” She looked over at Sara. “Wake boarders, skiers, or just people swimming back and forth from the mainland to the islands?”
Sara looked out over the water. Actually, she hadn’t thought about that.
“And if you lose control of your boat because you don’t know what the hell you’re doing and kill one of them, it’s going to be a way bigger deal than just a ticket.”
Sara didn’t say anything else as they sped over the water back to her dock. It was easier to be angry than admit to herself that Sam was right, but she didn’t really have a choice.
When they pulled up to Sara’s cabin, Sam loosely tied her boat to one of the anchor rings on the outer edge of Sara’s dock. She pulled what looked like a notebook in a steel binder out of a slot on the side of the control panel and wrote what Sara could only assume was a ticket. She took it without comment when Sam handed it to her.
“Will you be okay getting back up to the house?”
“I’ll be fine,” Sara said, stepping up on the side of the boat.
Just as she remembered she wasn’t supposed to do that, her foot slipped on the wet fiberglass and she felt herself falling backward. Sam caught her, scooping her up in her arms and setting her back onto the stairs. If Draper wasn’t so arrogant, the way she’d handled her might have almost turned Sara on. Almost.
“Thanks,” she said, not quite meeting her eyes.
Sam nodded and had started to turn the boat around when Sara thought of something else and grabbed the side. Sam looked over at her fingers wrapped around the edge of her boat and had to laugh.
“You’re a tenacious little thing, aren’t you?”
“Sorry,” Sara said, letting go. “It’s just that I need one more thing.”
“What is it?”
“It’s just…” Sara looked over at the boat slip on the opposite side of the dock. “Do you think you could have the officer that returns my boat park it inside the slip, not just on the side of the dock?”
Sam looked over and instantly knew why she was asking the question, but feigned confusion anyway. “Why is that?”
Sara paused, wondering if it was wise to actually tell her. “Because I don’t know how to park it yet.”
Sam smiled. “Yes, ma’am.” She pulled away from the dock and accelerated, disappearing around the point.
****
The next Saturday, Sara woke to find she was out of coffee, which seemed like a good enough excuse to go into town for a Moxie Java mocha. Everything was busier now that the summer people, how the locals referred to the tourists, were out in force. It gave the town a bright new energy that Sara loved, although it continued to bother her that outside of a handful of breakfast places or the few restaurants that offered upscale evening dining on the water, there was no everyday lunch spot like a pub or diner.
She threw on some white denim capris and a blue sleeveless T-shirt and walked into town, twisting her wavy blonde hair into a messy bun as she walked. By June, Savannah was always intensely hot and humid, although Sara had grown more used to it over the years. McCall was nestled high in the mountains, with a similar elevation to Denver, so even in the summer sun, the air still felt cool and light.
Moxie Java was packed, but Sara picked up an iced mocha for herself and a black coffee for Mary. Even for a summer Saturday, town was unusually busy. There wasn’t a parking spot in sight, the main street going down to the docks was blocked off, and there was even a white news van parked by the police station, setting up cameras. Sara pushed open the door to the drugstore with her shoulder and handed Mary her coffee.
“What the hell is going on out there?”
Mary tore the tops off five pink packets of Sweet’n Low at one time and emptied them into her cup.
“It’s the Island Scramble.” Mary tossed the packs at the trash behind her, where every one of them landed on the floor.
“What’s that?”
“It’s a swimming competition between McCall High School juniors and Boise High’s junior class. Each team swims out to the island opposite the docks, and the first team to get all their swimmers there and back wins the race. It’s more than a mile each way so it’s a crapshoot every year who’s going to pull out the win.”
“Well, it may just be high school kids,” Sara said, looking through the crowds of families parked at the docks with chairs and coolers, “But it looks like they’re serious about it.”
“They’ve been doing it since the sixties, and it’s hands down the biggest event of the summer,” Mary said, blowing on the surface of her coffee. “The kids get sponsors to pledge a certain amount of money if they win, then collect that money and use it to fund their senior trip.”
“I saw a news crew at the station when I walked by,” Sara said. “Does it really make the Boise news?”
Mary leaned her elbows on the counter and looked through the glass door. “Every summer.”
She pointed to the group of younger teens hanging out on the sidewalk behind the docks. “That’s the sophomore class; the McCall Lake Patrol provides a catered pancake breakfast after the race every year, and the sophomores help serve and clean up. That’s really what brings in most of the money for the kids; the sponsors are more to build excitement, but the catered breakfast people pay for afterwards is where the bulk of the money comes from.”
Mary narrowed her eyes as she stared out the window.
“Last year, the sophomores thought it’d be real funny to all crowd in here together and see how much of my candy they could shove in their little filthy pockets.” She dug out a rifle from under the counter and leaned it against the door. “This year I’m prepared. I’ll shoot the little asshats before they know what hit them.”
“Mary!” Sara stared at her, stunned. Until she saw the jar of paint pellets by the cash register.
“I’m going to shoot every single one of them with fluorescent paint so they’ll be easier to round up when I call the police.”
“So it’s not real?” Sara picked up the “rifle” and looked closer.
“Of course not,” Mary said, grabbing it back and putting it back within arm’s reach, “But they don’t know that.”
Sara had to laugh at the look of blissful anticipation on Mary’s face; she was clearly counting the minutes until she could whip out her gun and wave it around over the Snickers bars.
****
“What do you mean you’re not coming?” Sam Draper was pacing the docks, cell phone pressed tightly to her ear, voice low and hard. “You’ve catered this breakfast every year for six years.”
She tried to listen, but eventually gave up and kicked a buoy laying against the boathouse.
“No,” she said, “I did not get an email that said you were double-booked. If I had, I wouldn’t be calling you now.”
She snapped her phone closed and shoved it into her navy uniform pants, rubbing her forehead with her hands. What the hell was she going to do? Countless parents were here, students were depending on the revenue from the breakfast for their senior trip, and to cancel at the last minute would be a PR disaster for McCall. The media was already swarming around, interviewing everyone.
Sam headed through the crowd towards the drugstore; the last thing she needed right now was a migraine, and she could feel one starting right above her left temple. The bell attached to the door clanged hard against the glass when Sam walked in. Sara and Mary looked up from their coffees, startled.
“Do you carry Excedrin Migraine?”
Mary pointed towards the last aisle on the right and raised her eyebrow at Sara, then they both turned together to watch what was happening.
Sam set the box on the counter and looked toward the door. “Mary, you know you can’t have that gun in here, right?”
“I can have any damn thing I want in my own store, Samantha.” Mary held her eyes until Sam looked away, but every muscle in Sam’s jaw visibly tensed. “I live in the apartment upstairs, so technically I’m protecting my home.”
“Sam,” Sara said, “It’s just for show. It’s a paintball gun.”
Mary looked like she was expecting a fight, but Sam just sighed and rubbed her temples.
“What’s the matter with you?” Mary’s voice was soft, which seemed like a bad sign.
“The caterers that always do the breakfast aren’t coming.”
Mary looked at Sara, then back at Sam. “Well,” she said, “Who’s coming?”
“No one,” Sam said, “I just got off the phone with them. They claimed they notified us they’d been double booked, which they did not, and now I have to go out and cancel the fundraising breakfast.”
Mary let out a slow, low whistle and the three women were silent.
“Sam,” Sara said finally, with a glance at Mary, “When is the breakfast supposed to start?”
Sam opened the bottle of Excedrin and shook three into her hand. Mary handed over her coffee.
“It usually starts about an hour from now, maybe an hour and a half. The swimmers are supposed to take off in about fifteen minutes and it usually takes a little over an hour for them to start crossing the finish line.”
“Have you told anyone what happened yet?”
Sam sighed. “No, not yet.”
“Good,” Sara said, turning toward her. “Because I have a proposition for you.”
Sam looked over at her blankly.
“Now it’s starting to get interesting!” Mary slapped her hand down on the counter and poked Sam. “Pay attention.”
“I can solve your problem,” Sara said, “Like it never even happened. But you have to do something for me.”
“Jesus,” Sam said, straining to look over the counter, “Mary, you don’t have vodka behind there, do you?”
“Samantha,” she said, motioning toward Sara, “Shut up and listen.”
“I swear to God, Mary, if you don’t stop calling me that, I’ll arrest you.”
“Good,” she said with a wink. “You let me know how that goes.”
“You two need to stop fighting or I’m going to separate you.” Sara leaned across the counter and grabbed a small pad of paper and a pen. “You’re worse than children.”
“Okay, she’s listening,” Mary said. “What are the terms?”
“First of all, I need Captain Draper here to teach me what I need to know to get my boating license. And then I need you to bump me to the top of the list to take the test.”
Sam looked hard into Sara’s eyes. “And if I do, you’ll help me pull this off?”
“I’ll more than pull it off,” Sara said, “And all you’ll have to do is pretend nothing ever went wrong.”
Sam hesitated. “How do I know you can do this? If you crash and burn, it’ll be worse than letting them down now.”
Mary swatted Sam’s arm. “Listen,” she said, “I know you think you know everything about everyone, but trust me here, you don’t. Take the deal.”
Sam sighed but stuck out her hand to shake on it. “Okay. I accept.”
“Great,” Sara said, heading for the door. “Now introduce me to those sophomores.”
Within five minutes, Sara had the sophomores in a circle around her and somehow managed to grab their full attention. Not a cell phone in sight.
“Okay,” she called out, “My name is Sara Brighton, and I’m a chef.”
Some of the boys were obviously checking her out, and everyone knew something was brewing.
“Captain Draper brought me in to make this the biggest breakfast fundraiser McCall High has ever seen.”
Everyone erupted into cheers, and as it died down, Sara started scribbling on sheets of paper and tearing them off.
“Who has a car and a driver’s license?”
Six students raised their hands.
“Great,” Sara said, “I’m going to give each of you a list, and you need to get everything on that list and bring it back here as quickly as possible. Tell the cashiers that you’re with the breakfast team and they will settle with us later, so go through the checkout like usual but don’t worry about the money. Then get back here as fast as you can.”
Sara leaned into Sam and whispered into her ear. “Can you call the grocery store and let them know we’ll come by with a check for the bill after the race?”
“I’ll do it now.” Sam turned away, already dialing as Sara finished talking.
Sara handed each of the six students a list and they took off running toward their vehicles.
“Now,” Sara called out to the remaining students, “How many of you have plates at home your Mom might not miss for an hour or two?”
Every hand shot up.
“I’m not talking about fine china here, guys, just everyday dinner plates. Don’t bring back anything expensive. They don’t have to match, they don’t even have to be pretty, just grab as many as you can and don’t forget a fork and butter knife for each plate.”
Every student took off at the same time, trying to outrun each other back up the hill to their houses. “And a couple of pitchers and some mixing bowls,” Sara called out after them, “And an apron!” One of the boys turned around long enough to give her a thumb’s up, and then they were gone.
“Okay,” Sara said, turning to Sam, “How many officers do you think you have in that station right now?”
She nodded towards Lake Patrol, which was somewhat hidden by the two additional news trucks that had shown up and parked in front of the building.
“About fifteen, maybe seventeen.”
“And how many of them have gas grills?”
“Probably most of them,” Sam said. “Why?”
“I need every gas grill they can find, with a spatula for each, and I need you to show me where the caterers were supposed to s
et up.”
Exactly seventeen minutes later, eleven gas grills strapped to a boat trailer pulled up to the site, a small grassy park just above the docks. Officer Murphy, Sam’s newest patrol officer with the biggest mouth, jumped out.
“Captain,” he said, popping a piece of Nicorette gum into his mouth and leaning against the truck, “You wanna tell me why I had to load everybody’s gas grills up and drag ‘em out here?”
“Murphy,” Sam said, nodding at Sara. “This is Sara Brighton. She’s your new boss. Unload those grills in five minutes or less and set them up anywhere she wants them.”
The students that went to the grocery store and most of the kids who ran home to collect dishes were back by the time the grills were unloaded. Sara had Murphy set them up in a straight line in the center of the park. Sara had Sam line up the long folding conference tables she’d borrowed from the station, and told some of the boys to scatter some of the smaller square tables and chairs in little groups away from the catering station to encourage people to get their food and move away from the line.
“Okay,” Sara said, once everything was in place. “Can I get everyone’s attention?”
The chatter died down quickly and students looked expectantly at Sara.
“Captain Draper just told me the swimmers got a late start, so we still have a little over an hour from this point to pull this off.”
A tall, lanky boy with red hair called out from the back. “So we’re helping the caterers this year?”
“That’s almost right,” Sara said, “Except that we are the caterers.”
The kids instantly loved that idea, and Sara had to whistle to get their attention again.
“Okay,” she said, dropping her voice so low they had to lean in to hear her, “Here’s how it’s going to go down.”
****
Almost an hour later, Sam pulled Sara aside and told her the swimmers were nearly back to the docks.
“It looks like we have about fifteen minutes before people start lining up for the breakfast.”
“Great,” Sara said, smiling. “Don’t look so nervous. We’re ready.”
McCall Page 6