Death of a Lobster Lover

by Lee Hollis

  Hayley chose to keep quiet from this moment on and just let poor Polly talk.

  “I promised him three pies for helping me out. I just didn’t expect him to eat them all before we even opened the booth for business,” she declared, worry frowns now lining her forehead. “And now he’s gone home with a tummy ache!”

  Hayley finally had a sense of where this was going, and felt safe enough to speak again. “So now you’re without a helper!”

  “Yes!”

  “Well, don’t worry, I would be happy to help you sell your pies,” Hayley said, gently taking the frazzled Polly by the arm and leading her back over to her booth. Her lobster feast was just going to have to wait.

  Hayley had a friend, albeit a very new friend, in need. And she couldn’t leave her in the lurch. She just prayed there would still be a few lobsters left at the end of the day.

  For the next three hours, Hayley and Polly worked nonstop handing out pies and collecting money and chatting with the locals, who were downright enamored of these apparently highly addictive blueberry pies. It was a credit to Polly’s obvious baking talent. In fact, Hayley was so worried the pies would sell out, she grabbed one off the table and set it to the side so she could buy it later for herself.

  By the time Polly pocketed the last ten-dollar bill and handed off the last boxed pie, it was almost four in the afternoon.

  Hayley dropped down in a folding chair, exhausted.

  “I don’t know how to thank you,” Polly said, smiling gratefully. “I couldn’t have gotten through this without you.”

  “Well, I confess, I stole one of your pies, so consider us even,” Hayley said, pointing to the box she had set aside during the mad rush.

  “Oh, no, I insist on giving you a cut of the sales,” Polly said, counting out the cash she had stuffed in the pocket of her apron.

  “I wouldn’t hear of it. Your friendship is payment enough,” Hayley said, nervously checking out the lobster vendors, who were pouring water out of their lobster pots and cleaning up their spaces.

  As Hayley feared, it was nearing the end of the day and it looked like everyone was fresh out of lobsters.

  “Don’t stress out,” Polly said, noticing her new buddy’s alarmed expression. “There is another vendor down by the beach who has plenty of lobsters to last until well after sundown.”

  “I wasn’t worried,” Hayley lied.

  “I tell you what. Let me buy you a lobster dinner. It’s the least I can do,” Polly said.

  “All right, I won’t argue,” Hayley said, standing up. “Because I am starving.”

  As Hayley and Polly made their way down toward the beach, watching families pile into their cars to head home, Hayley glanced around for any sign of Liddy, or Mona and Corey, but didn’t spot them. She wasn’t too concerned. She assumed Liddy was at the local watering hole drowning her sorrows. As for Mona and Corey, well, she was brimming with curiosity about what went on between them today, but would have to wait to get any answers out of the reliably recalcitrant Mona Barnes.

  Just as Polly had promised, an older couple in their late sixties, in psychedelic T-shirts, wearing white aprons like Polly, the husband with long hair and a bushy beard, his wife with a frizzy mop on top of her head and adorned with beaded necklaces and bracelets, probably Grateful Dead hippies from a time long past, boiled lobsters in a pot on an open fire, with plates and utensils on a table made of birch wood behind them.

  Hayley excitedly ordered a lobster with extra butter and all the fixings, and then stepped back to let Polly place her own order. That is when she noticed two people a long distance down the beach. They seemed to be arguing. Hayley squinted to get a better look and immediately recognized Sue, the owner of the Starfish Lounge. Her face was contorted in rage and she wagged a finger in a man’s face. His back was to Hayley, but he seemed somewhat familiar.

  As Sue stepped forward, getting closer to him, almost in a threatening manner, the man took a step back away from her. He apparently had heard enough from this woman and didn’t want to listen to her anymore. The man whirled around to walk away from her, and Hayley was finally able to get a good look at his face.

  It was Jackson Young.

  Chapter 10

  After finishing her lobster and bidding adieu to Polly, Hayley hiked back from the town park to the Mercedes. There she found Liddy leaning against the driver’s-side door. She appeared calm, serene, almost at peace.

  Hayley approached her cautiously. “I hope you haven’t been waiting too long.”

  “No, I’ve actually had a lovely time. I was entertained by two drunks at the bar, local lobstermen I presumed. They both had a strange odor about them, a mixture of bourbon and fish bait. Aside from that, they were quite amiable.”

  “I’m sorry, Liddy, I know this whole weekend has been one big disappointment for you,” Hayley said.

  “I’ve come to the realization that I am a victim of my own high expectations,” she said with a confirming nod.

  “Come again?”

  “I had a whole picture in my mind of how this weekend was going to be. I envisioned the three of us staying in a quaint, lovely cabin resplendent with charm,” she said wistfully. “And when we got there, I was just wishing for a bathroom indoors.”

  “I agree Mona could have prepared us a little better about what to expect,” Hayley said, giving her that one.

  “And then there was Jackson. After meeting him, I let my expectations once again get the best of me. In my mind, I cast him in the role of my handsome suitor, usually played in my dreams by George Clooney. This suave, down-to-earth, most perfect man, unattainable in reality, to be honest. And when he failed to live up to that image in my mind, it sent me into a tailspin,” Liddy said, chuckling at the absurdity of it all.

  “Well, don’t beat yourself up,” Hayley said, smiling. “None of us knew Jackson was going to turn out to be a lying cad.”

  “But do we really know that for sure? Actually, we know very little about him. He may have received an emergency call from Boston, and then had to rush back for all we know,” Liddy said, trying to convince herself.

  “Yes, but he could’ve called or texted you to let you know,” Hayley said.

  “I suppose. But I’m too tired to be mad anymore,” Liddy sighed. “I’m completely over it.”

  Hayley decided not to mention that she had just seen Jackson Young down by the beach with Sue the bar owner. Liddy seemed to be in a good place right now, and she was not going to risk getting her worked up all over again.

  Mona trudged up to them, scarfing down a lobster roll. She finished it off, and licked some mayonnaise off her fingertips. With her mouth half full, she said, “I’m going to catch a ride home with Corey. He went to go get his truck.”

  “Fine. We’ll meet you back at the cabin,” Liddy said, pressing a button on her key to unlock the Mercedes.

  “Hey, sorry you got stood up, Liddy. For what it’s worth, Corey got a weird vibe from that Jackson guy the other night at the bar so you probably dodged a bullet.”

  “Well, tell Corey I appreciate his concern,” Liddy said, annoyed. “But I am highly skeptical that he has some reliable sixth sense about Jackson, a man he literally knows nothing about.”

  “The guy stood you up,” Mona argued. “That proves Corey’s suspicions were dead-on.”

  “We are not one hundred percent certain he stood me up on purpose. I was just saying to Hayley it is quite possible he was called away for some emergency . . .”

  “He stood you up!” Mona insisted. “Corey and I saw him at the lobster bake with our own eyes!”

  Liddy dropped her car keys and they clattered to the ground. “What?”

  “He was heading down toward the beach alone,” Mona said.

  “He was alone? Because when I saw him he was with—” Hayley stopped herself. The second the words spilled out of her mouth she desperately wanted to suck them back in, but it was too late.

  Liddy whipped around. “You saw
Jackson too?”

  There was no denying it now.

  Hayley nodded, pinching her nose and pursing her lips.

  She knew a tsunami-size meltdown was about to hit.

  And Liddy did not disappoint.

  “How dare that two-faced revolting creep show his face after leaving me high and dry! I have never been so insulted, so publicly humiliated in all my life!”

  She was spiraling fast.

  Hayley knew she had to quickly intervene to minimize the damage.

  “I wouldn’t go so far as to say you were publicly humiliated,” Hayley said, trying to calm the situation. “I mean, nobody in town even knows who you are, let alone that Jackson stood you up!”

  “Why were you trying to keep this from me, Hayley? To protect him? How could you be more concerned with his emotional well-being than with mine?”

  “All I was thinking about was your emotional well-being because I thought it was in your best interest to avoid this breakdown!”

  “Breakdown? This isn’t a breakdown! Believe me, you will know when I’m actually having a breakdown! Now finish what you were saying!”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You said you saw him with someone! Who was it?”

  “I don’t see how this helps . . .”

  “Who was he with, Hayley?” Liddy demanded to know.

  Hayley sighed. “Sue, the owner of the Starfish Lounge.”

  “I thought she was a lesbian,” Liddy said, surprised.

  “What made you think that?” Mona asked.

  “Well, she seemed so smitten with me at the bar,” Liddy said dramatically. “Gay women love me.”

  “I don’t think Sue is a lesbian,” Hayley said, before quickly adding, “But that doesn’t mean she’s involved with Jackson. In fact, when I saw them, they were arguing.”

  “Well, I think there is one way to get to the bottom of this. Take me back to where you saw them,” Liddy said, bending down to pick up her car keys and pressing the button to lock the doors again.

  “I don’t see how that’s going to solve anything . . .”

  “I do. It will make me feel much better to get some closure on this horrible, disastrous day.”

  “You told me you were over it,” Hayley said quietly.

  “I was lying!” Liddy shouted.

  While Mona waited by the Mercedes for Corey to arrive in his truck, Hayley reluctantly led Liddy back to the town park, passing a few stragglers chatting as the last of the vendors loaded up and drove away. When they reached the beach, there were no signs of anyone around. The tide was slowly coming in and the crashing waves were washing up close to the rocky shore where the sand ended.

  The hippie couple who had fed Hayley her lobster dinner had packed up and gone as well.

  Down the beach and around the bend, they spotted smoke rising from a fire.

  Liddy gave Hayley a quick, knowing nod and marched down the beach with the firm belief she would find Jackson Young, possibly in the warm embrace of another woman.

  At least that was probably the image playing on repeat in her mind.

  Hayley plodded along, falling a distance behind Liddy as sand worked its way inside her shoes, making her more and more uncomfortable and causing her to slow her pace.

  As she rounded the bend and caught up with Liddy, Hayley found her friend standing in the sand, frozen in place, staring at something.

  Hayley followed her gaze over to the smoldering fire, the last tiny embers crackling and flying up into a cloud of smoke.

  There was a body lying in the sand.

  The head was turned slightly so Hayley was able to recognize the face.

  It was Jackson Young.

  And next to him, tipped over in the sand, was a pot, somehow knocked off the wire grate placed over the fire, the sand having absorbed the boiling water, as three lobsters, lucky enough to still be alive, crawled slowly back toward the ocean in a daring, desperate bid for freedom.

  Island Food & Spirits by Hayley Powell

  Part Two

  I let out a tiny scream of surprise, and then caught myself, but it was too late! The bear stopped and slowly stood up on his hind legs, staring in our direction, and let out a thunderous growl. I felt my heart stop!

  Behind me, I could hear Mom and Mr. C scrambling to get out of the tent to find out what was going on. Both froze on the spot at the sight of the gigantic bear just a few feet from Randy! My mother gasped and clutched my arm, squeezing me tight and pulling me closer to her. Mr. C had this shocked expression on his face, like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing, and then, without warning, he turned around and hightailed it out of there, screaming like a little girl straight into a thicket of trees and disappearing into the woods, leaving me, Mom, and Randy to deal with the angry, growling Maine black bear staring us down!

  Well, you should know one thing about our mother. She can be a bear in her own right when it comes down to protecting her cubs! Suddenly Mom took off in a dead run full tilt straight past Randy, heading right for the big, growling bear, all the while waving her arms over her head and screaming, “Get away from those lobster rolls, you mangy beast!”

  I guess the poor bear didn’t expect to see such a petite woman with bright red hair sticking up all over her head running and yelling, and causing such a scene. The bear at that point decided, after a tasty meal of lobster rolls, it was probably time to depart, so he dropped down on all fours and lumbered out of the campsite.

  As he disappeared into the night, Mom stopped in her tracks, and then dropped to her knees, shaking at the realization that if the bear hadn’t run off, she didn’t have a Plan B!

  Randy and I raced over, clapped her on the back with our hands, and told her she was a hero. But she just gathered herself and waved us off, and told us to help her put the empty cooler away in the back of the truck. As we walked back to the half-erect tent to hopefully get a few more hours of sleep before daylight, a sheepish Mr. C emerged from the woods from where he had been obviously hiding, and rambled on about how he went to get help, but couldn’t find any in the vicinity, so he rushed back as quick as he could to dispatch the bear himself.

  We could see the veins popping in our mother’s neck, which always happened when she was trying to stay calm and not blow her top! She quietly told us it was time to get some much needed shut-eye, and steered us into the tent. I looked back to see Mr. C trying to follow us, but one death stare from Mom and he knew he wasn’t welcome, so he retreated to Randy’s sleeping bag and burrowed his way inside.

  The next morning, I woke up to the intoxicating smell of bacon and eggs that sizzled on the open fire. Luckily, the bear hadn’t busted into the second cooler we brought with our breakfast supplies. I had high hopes that after we ate, we would be heading home. Mom was completely one hundred percent over Mr. C, which was abundantly clear when he complained that his eggs were overdone and she shoved them at him anyway and told him to shut up and eat them. Randy, however, was the first to burst my bubble. He had awakened earlier and heard Mom and Mr. C discussing the events hours earlier. Mr. C apologized profusely for his cowardly behavior, and begged her to give him one more chance. My mom, being a fair-minded woman, reluctantly agreed, so we were officially stuck out here for at least one more day.

  After breakfast, Mr. C excitedly unlatched his small fishing boat from the trailer attached to the back of his truck, and with Randy’s help, carried it down to the lake’s edge. My heart sank. I hated fishing! And so did Randy. Well, to be honest, Randy hated most outdoor activities, actually most activities that didn’t involve watching television.

  All four of us climbed into the boat with our poles and smelly bait. We packed for lunch, and after snapping on our life jackets, set out to catch some fish for dinner. Mr. C waved off wearing a life vest because, according to him, he was an expert swimmer. It went downhill pretty fast from there! Mr. C spent the next half hour guiding the boat out into the open lake, and bragging about his high school swim team yea
rs, and how he nearly qualified for the Olympics his senior year.

  After what seemed like hours, but in reality was probably another ten minutes, Mr. C was still going on about his swimming glory days when suddenly I felt a tug on my line.

  I turned to Mr. C and said, “I think I’ve caught a fish!”

  Well, you would have thought I told him there was a free lobster buffet at the Hollywood Slots! He jumped to his feet, rocking the boat violently, practically throwing his own fishing pole overboard as he tried to step over me to wrest control of my pole!

  The heavy end of his own pole whacked Mom in the back of the head, and she let out a painful yelp! Mr. C ignored it as he frantically tried to reel the fish in. Mom was furious. She stood up and demanded an apology, but when he ordered her to sit back down and be quiet, that was the final straw. Nobody puts Mommy in a corner! She screamed that she wasn’t about to be his “little woman” who just did what she was told, and gave him a shove. It was a gentle shove, not too hard, but it was enough to cause Mr. C to lose his balance and topple over the side of the boat straight into the water, but not before grabbing Randy and dragging the poor kid along with him to use as a human life vest.

  Mom screamed at Mr. C to swim with Randy back to the boat, which was slowly drifting away, but Mr. C was in a full panic, splashing around, clutching Randy, who bobbed up and down in the water afloat from his life vest to save himself!

  “I can’t swim!” he wailed, crying like a baby.

  Mom sprang into action and managed to get the motor going, and then guided the small craft over alongside a terrified Mr. C and Randy, who was sputtering and coughing out water. Mom and I reached down and pried poor Randy loose from Mr. C’s grasp, and then we hauled him back into the boat. Mom then tossed Mr. C a rope, which was tied to the inside of the boat, but before he could use it to climb aboard, she gunned the motor and the boat sped back to shore, dragging a bumping and spinning Mr. C in the water behind us.

  Once we were safely back on land, we all silently packed up to leave and securely fastened the boat to the trailer. Mom was finally, much to our relief and delight, ready to go home! Mr. C knew he was in the doghouse so he refrained from making conversation most of the way except to ask if we wanted to stop for lunch somewhere.