by Landon Beach
Brooke reached up to the top shelf and grabbed a heavy, hardcover book. She looked at the title—The Golden Age of Piracy—and tried to hide a grin.
Nate knew her expression meant: only you would have a book like this, Nate. “Thanks,” he said, laughing at himself with her. “I’m glad to see that I’m still a cheap source of entertainment for you.”
She giggled back, and then kissed him on the cheek.
Nate began to leaf through the book.
Brooke set the coffee pot down and picked up the coin and magnifying glass.
After checking the appropriate pages, he closed the book and looked up at Brooke. “Nothing in here that resembles the markings on this coin.” He took a drink of his coffee.
Brooke passed the coin and magnifying glass back to Nate. “I can’t make out anything on it either.” She picked up the coffee pot. “Well, I’m going in to take a shower and then head out to do a little shopping. Your breakfast is cold, but it’s on the table if you still want it,” she said. “I looked down the beach this morning and I think the Gibsons are up.”
Nate was once more absorbed in the mystery of the coin and only grunted in reply.
“I wonder if anyone will make us an offer on our place this summer,” Brooke wondered aloud.
A few Hampstead locals had hung on to their homes, repeatedly declining offers that were made for their property. In some cases, it was enough money to bankroll them for a decade. The ink on the paperwork transferring ownership of the house from his mother to Brooke and him hadn’t even dried yet when they had been approached. It was over Easter weekend, and they were at the beach house furnishing it with some of their own things. The doorbell had rung, and after five minutes of polite conversation, Nate and Brooke had said no; the prospective buyer and his trophy wife had stormed off.
Some of the mansion owners had even tried to sue the cottage owners, claiming that the cottages detracted from the beachfront’s beauty. They wanted the locals out. Most of the locals wanted the castles bulldozed.
Nate set the coin and magnifying glass aside for a moment. “You think that the local kids have all the lawn jobs sewn up yet?” His father had once told him of an unofficial lottery held at the town barbershop to determine who would be allowed to apply for the summer mansion mowing jobs. It had been one of their last conversations.
“Probably,” said Brooke. “I’ve felt stares at the dime store from Judge Hopkins and Sheriff Walker. I know they’re wishing we would just sell our cottage already.”
“How wrong is that?” Nate said. “The town leaders turning on the townspeople.”
“What do they gain by us selling?”
“New mansions mean more opportunities for their sons or daughters to mow a summer resident’s lawn,” Nate said. “And if their kid does a good job, then maybe, just maybe, they’ll get invited out for a summer party.”
“Funny how some people get fooled into thinking they’re moving up in the world,” she said.
“If they only knew that they look like the person who walks behind a horse and picks up its droppings.”
He couldn’t help but laugh at the scene he was now picturing.
“What?” Brooke said.
He continued to laugh.
“Naaayyyyte,” she said, poking him with her finger.
He gathered himself. “I started to envision some of the people we know who want to break into that circle walking behind the Budweiser Clydesdales at the Fourth of the July parade picking up piles of shit and waving to the crowd. Agree?”
“One hundred percent. Oh, the pictures you paint, Mr. Martin,” Brooke said.
“You’re the only one that can see the pictures I describe, sweetie.”
“When are we getting our internet connection?” Nate said.
“They can’t make it out until next week.”
“Damned cable company. We’re supposed to have cell phone reception out here next summer too. I’ll believe it when I see it.”
She kissed him and then left the garage.
He picked up the coin again and then looked out the window at the spot on the beach where he had found it. Where had it come from? Were there more? He put the magnifying glass and coin in the top drawer of his desk and reshelved the book. He stood with his hand resting on the dive gear for a moment. Let’s have a look.
He entered the house through the sliding glass door and could hear the shower running as he walked down the hallway and grabbed a towel from the linen closet. He exited the house and as he stepped off the deck, he noticed that the blinds were now open on the lakeside windows of a house two down from them. No doubt the owner had his binoculars out and was watching to see what Nate was up to. The man spent more time prying into other people’s lives than living his own. The beach mansion owners had one complaint that held weight: the locals were nosey.
Nate passed by the stack of unused wood in the sand and made his way to the water. The lake was placid and the sun had risen far enough to see the sandy bottom. He positioned himself at the approximate point where he had found the coin. He looked back toward the house to make sure it had been found on his property. It had.
After strapping the knife to his right calf, he pulled the mask down past his face so that it hung by its strap around his neck and rested on his upper chest. He entered the water holding the fins above the surface and probed the bottom with his toes for more coins as he walked out up to his waist. Feeling none, he put his fins on and pulled the mask over his head. He spit into the faceplate, rubbing warm saliva all over, and then dipped the mask into the cold water. After securing it to his face, Nate verified his alignment with the spot on the beach where he’d found the coin and dove under.
The water’s temperature was probably in the high fifties, and Nate kicked to warm his body, seeing nothing on the bottom at first. Then, his own anchor auger, wire, and buoy appeared. He surfaced next to Speculation, took a deep breath, and dove to the bottom to test the auger. Holding onto the steel pole, he pulled from side to side, then up and down. Neither motion moved the mooring. He checked the wire which ran through the auger’s eye to the buoy and back to the eye: they were secure.
A few summers back, he had applied for a job as a navigator on a yacht out of Shelby’s. The local paper had advertised that a crew was needed for the vessel’s summer voyage up Lake Huron to Mackinac Island, down Lake Michigan to Chicago, and then back to Hampstead. Perhaps “applied” was too strong a word. Thinking that mailing an item like a resume would be too formal, he had shown up at Shelby’s to inquire about the job. The marina owner, Kevin Shelby, had finally opened his office door after Nate’s third stream of knocking. Shelby had a cigarette and cup of coffee in one hand and was running the other hand through his greasy hair. There had been an open bottle of Baileys on his small desk.
After hearing Nate out, Shelby had said, “Fuck if I know. I’ve never even heard about the cruise, you sure you’ve got the right marina?”
And that was the end of his career as a navigator—and possibly berthing his boat there.
Nate swam under Speculation and after seeing that the hull was fine, he surfaced and kicked further out until the water was approximately ten feet deep. He took a deep breath and dove.
He traced the bottom and swam in a zigzag pattern out to a depth of twenty-five feet. Odds-and-ends were scattered across the sand: rocks, a tire, a rusted can but no coins. He surfaced. The sun hid behind a cloud making the water darker as Nate treaded. A breeze had started and Speculation wandered around her mooring. Where did the coin come from? Nate rotated in a slow circle watching the waves and hearing the distant cry of a seagull.
The sun came out from behind the cloud and the khaki colored bottom illuminated under his black fins. He dove and kicked back toward shore while hugging the lake bed. Had he hoped to find something? Sure. Did he really think that he would? No. At least he knew the boat wasn’t going anywhere.
As he dried off on the beach, Brooke emerged from the ho
use.
About The Author
Landon Beach
Landon Beach lives in the Sunshine State with his wife, two children, and their golden retriever. He previously served as a Naval Officer and is currently an educator by day and an author by night. Find out more at landonbeachbooks.com.