Becalmed: When a Southern woman with a broken heart finds herself falling for a widower with a broken boat, it's anything but smooth sailing.

by Normandie Fischer

  “You don’t want to let anything go.”

  “I know. I wish I could find a place at home for every single piece in this shop, especially yours and Hannah’s. And Stefan’s. I seem to like each new thing you bring in better than the last. I’m hopeless.”

  “At least you sell them.”

  “I tried putting spells on my favorites, but that didn’t work. All I have to do is covet something and it takes on a life of its own, reaching out to grab a buyer.” A very dramatic sigh escaped Isa’s lips. “No matter how I try to shoo customers away or at least try to get them interested in something else, they hone in on just that item, and there I am, writing up a sales slip.” Her silver hair fell forward over her shoulders, and she loosed a second sigh. “It’s very discouraging.”

  “But a good thing for us.” Tadie looked around. “So where are those mugs you said I should see?”

  Isa waved her toward the back of the store. “I’m not sure about that glaze. The colors look muddied.”

  Examining one of the tall stoneware pieces, Tadie saw exactly what Isa meant. She replaced it and selected another. “You think Carolyn was having an off day?”

  “If so, she’s been having a lot of them lately.”

  “If only her glazes were as polished as her wheel work.”

  Isa turned away from the shelf. “What did you bring?”

  “Hope you like them,” Tadie said, handing over the necklace, bracelet, and earrings she’d crafted from a weave of gold and silver.

  Isa oohed. “These are gorgeous. I bet I could have kept the periwinkles if we’d had these earlier.”

  As Isa made room in the glass case, Tadie glanced to the wall where Stefan Ward’s watercolors hung. “Did you sell the one of the shrimp boat at dusk?”

  “I did. We hang a new one, I get attached to it, and before I can take my next breath, out the door it goes.”

  “If he’d only relocated earlier,” Tadie said, grinning at her friend, “we might have turned a profit the first month we opened.”

  “And probably shut down some store in Michigan.”

  “Montana.”

  “That’s right. I was thinking water, not mountains. Didn’t he sail down?”

  Tadie spoke over her shoulder as she headed to her office. “He bought the boat someplace in New England. Newport, I think.”

  “And stopped here, like a lot of us.” Isa followed, pausing in the doorway. “Speaking of sailors, the cutest little redhead came in with her father who, by the way, is not hard on the eyes either. He needs to fix his boat before they head north. Don’t we have a list of suppliers?”

  “Oh, were they here? I saw them rowing to shore, and you’re right. She’s adorable.” Tadie opened a drawer and flipped through her files until she found the list.

  Isa took it from her. “That poor man’s trying to get things ready for them to meet friends in Baltimore.”

  “I’m glad we can help.”

  “When I told Jilly—that’s the little girl—about you and your work, she said she wants one of your rings.”

  Tadie had just clicked to open a file in her accounting program, so it took a moment for Isa’s words to register. “My rings? Is her daddy going to commission one?”

  “Maybe when she’s older.”

  She typed in the date, said, “Okay,” and expected Isa to leave. When the other woman just stood there, Tadie looked up. “What?”

  “She’s such a winning little thing. I wish you could have heard what she said about your pieces. Something about knowing you’re a nice person.”

  “That’s sweet. Were you singing my praises?”

  “That wasn’t it. She said your jewelry was the sort of thing her mother would have liked. I think her mother must be dead. It’s very sad.” Isa started to turn away and then paused. “Oh, and there was some fellow in here asking about you. Drop-dead gorgeous, let me tell you, but something about him bothered that little girl and her daddy. I thought he was rude. Pretty face, lousy manners.”

  Drop-dead gorgeous and asking about her? Rude and gorgeous? Well, Alex’s message had said he’d been here. Tadie closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and set her fingers to the keyboard.

  Later, waiting for the computer to shut down, she gathered her notes and stacked them in the to-do box. Working with numbers had helped some, but she still felt jittery. Too bad she’d brought her car when what she needed was exercise. She took one last look around, grabbed her bag and hat, and closed the office door behind her.

  Isa glanced up. “Those last customers walked away with Hannah’s salad bowl. At this rate, Hannah’d better cleave to that wheel.”

  “She’ll be glad. It’ll keep her mind off Matt.”

  Isa slipped the receipt into the drawer. “I know she’s worried about him. Any more news?”

  “Not that I’ve heard.”

  “Well, Jilly and her daddy ought to be returning soon to get that list.” Isa’s eyes danced as she pointed toward the metal animals in the back. “She told me what Jamie’s fish is called.”

  “You mean the kind of fish?”

  “Its name. Seems Jamie made a she-fish named Penelope.”

  “Sounds like Jilly has quite an imagination.”

  “I think she heard the fish speak to her.”

  “I-sa.”

  The way she said Isa’s name must have raised the older woman’s hackles, because she tilted up her chin. “Jilly heard something.”

  “I’m sure your young friend has a wonderful imagination. Children often think they hear voices grown-ups can’t.”

  “Anything’s possible,” Isa said with an expressive shrug.

  “What? Do you also believe in ghosts?”

  “Sure, don’t you?”

  Tadie grunted out a half-laugh. “You must enjoy the town’s annual ghost walk.” Noticing the light in Isa’s eyes, she said, “Look, I know a lot of folk do it in fun, but Elvie drummed into my head that ghosts aren’t something we ought to mess around with.”

  “Well, honey, the church and its teachings are something I’m not messing with anymore. So, I’m open to alternatives.”

  She’d forgotten about Isa’s ex-husband, a pillar of whatever church they’d attended up north. And an abuser. Wishing she’d kept her mouth shut, she turned to leave as bells tinkled over the door.

  The child’s hair danced to a stop off the sides of her head, and her sneakers squeaked on the floor. She was all bright colors: red hair, pink T-shirt, yellow shorts and socks. “Oh, it’s you,” she said to Tadie, her eyes sparkling and her voice chirping like an excited bird.

  “Hey there,” Tadie said, answering with a smile and setting her things on the counter. “I’m glad to see you again.”

  The father approached more sedately, nodding first at Isa and then in her direction.

  “This is the jewelry lady, Jilly,” Isa said, gesturing. “Will, Sara Longworth.”

  Tadie held out her hand and felt a sailor’s calluses in Will’s strong grip. She pictured him hauling line, his brown hair blowing, his eyes squinting against the sun. Startled that a simple handshake could provoke such images, she cleared her throat and looked from father to child. The little girl’s cat-like eyes appeared huge in her face.

  “Isa tells me you’re on your way to Baltimore,” Tadie said, glad words finally made it past her lips. “I hope you’ll enjoy Beaufort for a little while first.”

  “It’s pretty here.” Jilly pulled at her father’s shirt. “See? I told you she was a nice lady.”

  “And you were right.” He looked back at Tadie. “Was that a sharpie you were sailing?”

  “Eighteen feet on deck, three feet of bowsprit.”

  “I know sharpies from the Connecticut waters. And we saw some in your museum.”

  “A local yard built Luna. Who built your boat?”

  Jilly piped in. “A man designed her just for us.”

  When her daddy tweaked her nose with a grin that mirrored the child’s, Tadie felt a
n absurd pang. “How fun for you,” she said, before pretending to be distracted by something on the counter.

  Isa pulled the list from her pocket and handed it to Will. “Tadie found this for you.”

  Jilly scooted up close to Isa and whispered, “Is her name Sara or Tadie?”

  Overhearing, Tadie answered the child. “Sara’s my real name, but I’ve been Tadie to most of the folk around here since my little brother first said it in front of the other kids. Of course, to my mother I was always Sara. There aren’t many left who still call me that.”

  “Is your mother dead?” Jilly asked, still whispering.

  Tadie bent low. “Yes, Jilly, she is.”

  “Mine is too. And Tadie’s a pretty name, but I like Sara. It sounds like you.”

  Tadie straightened slowly. “It does?”

  “To me it does.”

  Isa stepped forward and smoothed a stray hair out of the child’s face. “Why do you think so?”

  “Because of the necklace.”

  Isa’s “Aha!” made Tadie wonder if she’d missed something. “Do you know what the name Sara means?” Isa asked.

  Jilly shook her head.

  “Princess,” Isa said, as if proud of the fact. Tadie squinted at her, wishing she knew how to shush her friend.

  Jilly’s eyes widened. “It does?” At Isa’s nod, the child returned her gaze to Tadie. “Then that’s why.”

  Tadie laughed self-consciously. “You think I’m a princess?”

  “Magical,” Jilly said.

  Will nudged his daughter’s shoulder, turning her toward him. “Sweetie, I think you’re making Ms. Longworth uncomfortable. Remember?”

  Jilly’s head bowed, and she seemed suddenly fascinated by her sneakers. Finally, she spoke in that soft little voice. “I don’t always have to say everything I think. I’m sorry.”

  Oh, dear, she’d embarrassed the child. “It’s okay.” When Jilly still didn’t look up, Tadie bit her lower lip, wishing she knew what to do. She mouthed at Will, May I?

  He nodded.

  She bent slightly, extending a hand. “Jilly, come here, will you? Just for a minute?”

  Jilly looked up at her father. When he nodded, she slipped her hand in Tadie’s and followed to a window seat, climbing up next to Tadie and focusing intently with such trust that Tadie wished she’d left well enough alone.

  But she had to say something. “You know what I think, Jilly?”

  The child shook her head.

  “I think you have a special gift.”

  Jilly’s eyes widened, big and green and surrounded by pale lashes. “You do?”

  Tadie nodded, dredging up a confidence she didn’t feel. It should have been Isa over here—Isa, who was so good with children. “I think you have the gift of seeing the heart of things.” She turned to include Will. “Am I right? Does this young lady see with her heart?” She thought she caught a sudden gleam in Will’s eyes.

  “She does indeed.”

  Jilly piped up with, “My mommy knew stuff. She was special.”

  Tadie squeezed Jilly’s hand. “I’m sure she was. And do you know why I’m so sure?”

  Jilly watched her with those round eyes.

  “Because your mommy had you, and you are special.”

  Jilly’s little arms flew around Tadie’s neck, and she clung tightly. Tadie clung right back.

  Heaven help her. Was it possible to fall in love this quickly? She couldn’t let it happen. Jilly and her daddy would fix their boat and leave. Tears threatened as she loosened Jilly’s arms.

  On a deep breath, she stood, pulling the child to her feet. “Okay. So.” She tried for a light note. “The thing is, I’m not a real princess—which you’d know if you lived here and knew me better. Right, Isa?”

  “Well … ”

  “Isa?”

  “Right. No princess.”

  “But you may call me anything you wish. Is that a deal?”

  Jilly’s head bobbed, but after a moment’s pause, she said, “Could you pretend to be a princess so I can call you Princess Sara?”

  “Jilly, sweetheart, no,” Will said. “Isn’t there enough excitement in your life as it is? I mean, how many girls get to be first mate on the Nancy Grace?”

  “That was my mama’s name. Nancy Grace Fillmore Merritt.” Jilly squared her thin little shoulders and lifted her chin. “The Fillmore is from my grandpa. The Merritt’s from us.” She pointed from her daddy to herself.

  “Is Jilly your real name?” Isa asked.

  “Don’t you think,” Tadie said, “we’ve had enough with real names and nicknames?”

  Isa waved her quiet. “I want to know.”

  Will answered, a slight quiver at his lips. “Jilly is Gillian Grace.”

  The quiver distracted Tadie. No, no. Not good. She slid her focus back to his daughter.

  “My real name is spelled with a G but my nickname has a J because Mommy said people would say it easier that way. And I’m named Gillian after my mommy’s grandmother.” She stopped for breath. “You already know where I got the Grace.”

  “Lovely names.” Isa turned her shoulder toward Tadie, fluttering fingers behind her back. Tadie glared at them, but she didn’t interrupt when Isa continued. “It’s a funny thing about the South and names. As soon as I got here, I discovered that nicknames don’t come in the normal way, from shortening a too-long or too-fancy one.”

  “Like I’m Jilly.”

  “Exactly. Did you know there are men called Bubba and Tee and Bo wandering this very town?”

  Jilly’s pigtails slapped against her jaw when she shook her head. Tadie risked a glance at the child’s father, who seemed as mesmerized by this recital as his daughter. Isa’s story only gained momentum. “Look at Tadie’s name. Does it sound anything like Sara? I tell you, Jilly, this is a fascinating place for curious people.”

  “It is?”

  “Yes ma’am. Why, over at the library, there’s actually a woman named Teensy. Now, how did she get named that? She’s not tiny at all, but she’s not fat either.”

  Jilly giggled and put her hand over her mouth.

  “And I heard one of our customers call his wife Saso.”

  Jilly looked from Isa to Tadie. “It’s okay if you call me anything you want—Jilly or Gillian or even Grace.”

  Tadie tilted her head. “I like them all, but perhaps calling you Jilly would be easiest.”

  Jilly seemed to think about that. “Then maybe I’ll call you Tadie.”

  “It would be less confusing. I’ll know right away you’re speaking to me.”

  “You mean because your mommy isn’t around to call you Sara.”

  “Exactly.”

  Jilly slid up close to Tadie. “Will you sail over to see us on our boat?”

  “How about as soon as we get a decent breeze?”

  Will waved the list. “We’ll be on board when we’re not out provisioning. Thank you again for this.” He glanced over at Jilly. “And for everything.”

  Tadie and Isa watched the pair walk out the door and past the shop window. Setting her sun hat on her head, Tadie looked at Isa. “An amazing child.”

  “Certainly precocious and loving. Her mother must have been something.”

  With one more glance out the window at an apparently empty sidewalk, Tadie said, “Jilly makes me wish I’d known her.” They might have been friends, she and that other woman who’d sailed. Who’d been a cruising mother. And wife.

  How very sad for them.

  “Will seems like an interesting sort.” Isa leaned on the counter, resting her chin in her palm. “But he rather pales next to Jilly, doesn’t he?”

  “I know exactly what you mean. I can see the child clearly, but the father’s face has already blurred. Poor man.”

  Isa’s lips twitched.

  Tadie turned and headed out the door, curious about that twitch. What did Isa mean by it? No telling, of course. But still …

  * * * * *

  After di
nner, Tadie wandered out to the dock to watch the sun set. Ibis trailed toward their roosts. A couple of pelicans dove ker-plunk for fish. Boats slipped up the creek, heading to the anchorage or dockside, their engines breaking the quiet but without force, the low RPM barely producing a wake. Where had they been? She imagined the stories their owners could tell. Light glowed from the portholes on a number of boats, including the one that belonged to Will and his daughter. It would be fun to sail out there now, just to be friendly—to see how they lived, what they cooked, and what they did on board that gorgeous boat.

  The slap of oars on water brought her head around. She waved. “Hey, Mr. Bobby, how’re you doing?”

  “Hey, Tadie,” her two-doors-down neighbor called. “Glorious evening.”

  “Sure is.”

  He tied up at his dock and hefted a bag from the old wooden rowboat he said kept him young. Bobby Simons was the kind of seventy-nine-year-old she’d like to become—agile and quick-witted, although his hair had thinned to nothing, and he had a slight limp from a car accident years ago. The screen door slammed behind him, and he called out a greeting to his daughter, Angie, who’d come home when her mama died, saying she’d sure rather live with her daddy than with that poor excuse for a husband she’d left behind.

  What a picture Bobby and Angie made, not a thing about them alike except their sense of humor, which Bobby said was what had saved them both all these years. Angie laughed, declaring she hated to leave the house because it took too much effort to haul all her extra weight out the door and load it into the car. Still, she’d do it, mostly to go to the CVS Pharmacy or the Food Lion once a week. At least there she could lean over the cart, and if something needed fetching, Bobby’d just scoot off and bring it to her. Bobby was as proud of Angie as if she’d been homecoming queen, saying nobody could cook as fine a meal. Besides—and here Tadie could hear him cackle with glee—who else was gonna try to beat him at chess or cribbage?