Catch and Release

by Laura Drewry

  “Okay,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. “I think I’ll just take me and my verbal diarrhea down to the dock to check things out down there.”

  For a second, after he straightened and turned to look at her, she thought he might say something, but his only response was a slow smirk and a barely there nod. That was enough.

  Back outside, she tugged on her boots, turned her collar up against the dampness, and started down the gravel path that curved around the cove toward the dock.

  Combined scents of fish, salt water, and lemon greeted her when she stepped inside the fish shack. A long, deep countertop, complete with two side-by-side sinks, ran the length of the south wall. Half a dozen cutting boards stood stacked at the end next to four leather-encased knives, each a different length and width, and above the sinks hung a sign that read GOOD THINGS COME TO THOSE WHO BAIT.

  Cupboards lined the other walls and there was an old metal chair over by the door, but that was basically it. Like the rest of the Buoys, it was functional, not fancy.

  Hope eyeballed the corners of the ceiling, estimating distances and camera angles, then headed outside again to have a look at the exterior of the building and the rest of the dock. With only one light standard, it was going to be tricky to set up cameras, but they’d promised the O’Donnells they wouldn’t change anything, so she’d just have to get creative.

  After measuring everything twice, she went back up to the lodge. Jessie met her midway through the lobby, but as soon as she started talking, the phone rang.

  “Hi—oh…sorry, I have to grab that, but come with me, I have the rest of the paperwork for you.”

  Hope followed her into the office, where Jessie answered the phone and reached for the papers at the same time. When she’d finished with the call, she moved a few things over on the credenza and motioned for Hope to sit.

  Jessie had just dropped onto her chair when Kate walked in. She had a clipboard in one hand and her mouth was open, as if she was about to say something but had stopped when she saw Hope sitting there.

  “Sorry, am I interrupting?”

  Jessie and Hope shook their heads in unison.

  “Actually,” Hope said, digging her notebook out of her bag, “I’m glad you’re here. I have a couple questions and I think one might be a touchy subject, so I’m not sure who to ask.”

  Leaning against the doorframe, Kate hugged the clipboard to her chest as Jessie shrugged.

  “Ask away.”

  Hope never enjoyed this part of her job—trying to maneuver through the unknown waters of what was okay to talk about, what wasn’t, and what she could push a little on—but it was better to get those lines drawn early so there wasn’t any misunderstanding later. She flipped her notebook open and poised her pen above the marked page.

  “It’s about Maggie.”

  Without a word, Jessie’s gaze shot to Kate, who pulled the pocket door out of the wall and slid it closed, shutting the three of them inside the confined space of Jessie’s office.

  “Ooo-kay,” Hope said, lifting her hands. “I’m guessing that’s a line we don’t cross. Did she pass away?”

  After chewing her cheek for a couple of seconds, Jessie pulled a tube of ChapStick out of her pocket and began rolling it between her palms.

  “She left when the boys were young,” she said. “And that’s a hard line for all of us.”

  “Fair enough.” Hope probably should have left it there, but curiosity got the better of her as she crossed Maggie’s name off her list of questions. “I’m sorry, but if nobody wants to talk about her, why is there a picture of her in the white cabin?”

  Again, Jessie hesitated. “Because regardless of what happened or why, she’s still their mother, she was a huge part of getting the Buoys started, and if it weren’t for those two things, it’s unlikely any of us would be here now, so we can’t just pretend she never existed.”

  “But…um…that picture…” Hope didn’t finish, but she didn’t have to.

  “It’s awful, isn’t it?” Kate grunted. “And what’s worse is that it’s the best picture they have of her.”

  “Oh. Wow. Okay. So Maggie’s out. Um, I have a few other questions, if you don’t mind.” But no matter how hard Hope stared at her notes, the only questions she wanted to ask now had to do with Maggie O’Donnell.

  Why did she leave and not take the boys with her? Where did she go, and how often did they see her? Clearly Hope wasn’t going to make any friends by asking those questions, though, and thank God she hadn’t pushed Ronan about the picture when he’d walked into the cabin. She forced Maggie to the back of her mind and moved on.

  “Tell me about the fish shack.”

  “What about it?” Jessie asked, her brow furrowed.

  “The specs we have say that it was built around the same time as the lodge, but it doesn’t look that old.” The more words she spoke, the more Jessie’s expression tightened. “Did you guys renovate it or something?”

  Through widened eyes and tiny tips of their heads, Kate and Jessie seemed to be trying to communicate telepathically, but somehow in the five or six feet that separated them the connection kept getting lost.

  “You know what,” Hope said, “forget it. I was just—”

  She started to cross it off but stopped when Jessie spoke.

  “We rebuilt it early last spring.”

  Neither she nor Kate looked terribly happy about having offered up that bit of information, but why? It wasn’t as if they were giving away national secrets or anything—it was a shack, for crying out loud. Hope had known right from the get-go that she was going to come up against obstacles and knew they wouldn’t be keen to share all their secrets with her, but this?

  Holy crap on a cracker, if they had so much trouble answering questions about a ten-by-twenty shack that didn’t mean anything at all, how the hell was she supposed to get them to open up about the things that did?

  “Okay, look.” Hope leaned back against the wall and sighed. “Forget I asked. But for the purposes of filming, is there anything about it I’m going to need to know?”

  “No.” Jessie’s answer was immediate and firm right up until she faltered. “It was just…”

  She glanced at Kate, who nodded. “A personal decision.”

  “Right. A personal decision.”

  “Okay.” Hope wasn’t stupid; there was more to it than just a simple personal decision, but as curious as she was, if it didn’t affect filming, it wasn’t any of her business. “Is there anything else off-limits? Or anything I need to tread lightly around?”

  With shrugs and quirked brows, they both shook their heads.

  “I don’t think so,” Kate said. “We’re not all that exciting around here, so I don’t know how you’re going to get six good episodes out of us, never mind a whole dozen to complete the season. Your writers must be incredibly creative.”

  She had to be kidding, right? Hope had only been there a few hours and already she’d learned that they didn’t talk about Maggie and that something had happened that made them rebuild the fish shack. Granted, she might not be able to use either of those things, but if that’s what she’d uncovered in the first few hours, she could only imagine what she’d find in the coming days.

  “You might not think so, but to the average Joe or Jane trying to eke out a living in a concrete jungle, you guys are exotic and dazzling. You’re living the dream of so many people.”

  That made them both snort.

  “And if that doesn’t work…” Hope shrugged slowly and grinned. “Remember, we have the lineup of special guests coming in, too. They’ll help take some of the pressure off you guys feeling the need to be ‘on’ all the time, and they’ll give our story producers fresh stuff every week.”

  Jessie lifted a well-used copy of tidal charts and pulled a sheet of paper from under it.

  “We have the list of guests for the first six episodes,” she said. “But what about after that?”

  “Luka’s tentatively bo
oked all but the last two spots, but we can’t confirm anything until we know for sure that there’ll be a show after the first six episodes.”

  They both nodded.

  “Okay, I just have one more question, then. The pictures in the orange cabin—the wildlife shots—who took them?”

  The last of Hope’s words were drowned out by the phone ringing.

  Lifting her index finger to put Hope on hold, Jessie reached her other hand over and took the phone from its cradle.

  “Thank you for calling the Buoys; this is Jessie.” A second later she sat up straight, her expression changed, tightened. “Dawn?…Hold on, what?”

  Kate immediately moved closer, frowning, as Jessie turned her face up and stared wide-eyed at her. She pressed her hand over the mouthpiece and mouthed, “Olivia,” which made Kate’s face lose most of its color.

  “Oh my God,” Jessie said, her voice barely a croak. “What part?…Holy shit. Is she okay?…Is she going to be okay?…They’re sure? Is she awake?…No, I guess that’s for the best. What about you—are you okay?…No, of course. I won’t keep you, but if you need anything or if there’s anything we can do for her…What?…No, don’t give it another thought. We’ll manage….Yes, of course. Okay…Okay. You’ll let us know?…Okay, give her our love. Bye.”

  She didn’t even put the phone down, just pushed the off button and pressed it against her chest.

  “What?” Kate cried. “Jessie!”

  Jessie blinked slowly. “They were in a car accident the night before last; Olivia broke her back.”

  “Oh my God! Is she okay? What part of her back? Is she—”

  Hope was already off the credenza. “I’m…I’m gonna leave you guys alone, but if there’s anything I can do to help…”

  Jessie nodded haltingly as she unclipped the radio from her hip and keyed the mic. “Guys, you need to get up here.”

  Hope slid the door open and headed out of the room to give them some privacy. She hadn’t planned on going anywhere in particular and yet her feet took her back to the lobby desk, where, as Jessie had done earlier, Hope ran her fingers slowly over the blemished surface.

  She couldn’t have been there more than a minute when the front door burst open and, almost like in a cartoon, the three O’Donnells all but fell through.

  As one they looked at Hope, who simply pointed toward the office. By that time, Kate and Jessie were already on their way out. The last thing Hope heard as she closed the front door behind her was Jessie’s voice cracking.

  “Olivia’s been in an accident.”

  Chapter 4

  “It’s the family name that lives on. It’s all that lives on. Not your personal glory, not your honor—but family!”

  Tywin Lannister, Game of Thrones

  There hadn’t been many times since he’d given it up that Ro had actually thought about having a drink, but this was definitely one of them, which was why he pulled Da’s sobriety coin out of his pocket and rubbed it between his fingers.

  What the hell were they going to do? Olivia had become a huge part of the Buoys; she’d come to work for them when they needed her the most, and now there wasn’t a damn thing any of them could do for her. He’d made Jessie repeat everything Olivia’s girlfriend, Dawn, had said, word for word, and then pelted her with questions he knew she couldn’t answer no matter how often or how loud he asked them.

  He’d tried not to yell, but he couldn’t help it. The more worried he was about something, the louder he got, and this…well, shit. This was more than just worrisome, because there was nothing any of them could do except wait and see—and that was something none of them, especially Ro, was very good at.

  And it didn’t matter how long they talked about it or how many different ways they googled fractured L5 vertebra; they didn’t learn anything more than what Dawn had already told them.

  So after dinner, Ro poured himself a fresh cup of coffee and headed outside to sit on the porch, while his brothers curled up in the great room with Kate and Jessie to watch the game—or at least that’s what it looked like. The game might be on, but Ro’d bet his left kidney that if asked, not a single one of them would be able to tell you who batted last or what the score was. The only thing any of them were thinking about was Olivia, lying in the ICU at St. Mark’s Hospital.

  Worst-case scenario, she’d never walk again; best case, she’d be flat out until the vertebra mended, and then she’d still need months and months of therapy.

  Either way, it was going to be a long time before she came back to the Buoys, which meant they needed someone else in the kitchen this season. It needed to be someone Olivia would trust to maintain her level of quality and someone who’d gladly hand the job back to her as soon as she was ready to take it.

  Jessie could make a mean pot of stew, but that was about it, and while Kate was no slouch in the kitchen, she was more of a by-the-book kind of recipe girl and wasn’t comfortable trying new seasonings or winging it if need be. And as for Liam and Finn—well, shit, those two would live on macaroni and hot dogs if left on their own.

  Sitting on the top step, Ronan leaned his elbows on his knees and looked out through the darkness toward the dock. A year ago, he never would have believed he’d be back here for good, and if he was being honest he’d have to admit that even though he was the one who’d pushed for them to reopen the Buoys, there’d always been a part of him that believed they’d never manage it. But they did.

  And not only had they reopened, but Liam had exorcised the last remaining nightmare from Ro’s childhood when he ripped down that fuckin’ fish shack and rebuilt it. It was money they could have—no, should have—used somewhere else, especially since there was nothing structurally wrong with the original shack, but Liam didn’t care. He’d recruited Kate first, then Finn and Jessie, and together the four of them burned that thing to the ground and rebuilt it board by board—all for Ronan.

  If he lived to be nine hundred years old, he’d never forget what they’d done. And looking at the new shack now, just like so many times before, Ro rubbed Da’s coin harder, warding off the memories that threatened to seep out.

  The shack was only one item on a long list of things the other four had done to get the Buoys reopened after Da died. They’d all made the lodge their priority while Ro was stuck at his job in Calgary, and now it was his turn to step up.

  Sure, he’d rather be out on the boats every day, taking guests to his favorite fishing spots, swapping stories, and discovering new tricks and different lures, but the truth was, it didn’t matter how great a guide he was—most of the guests were more interested in going out on the boats with the former MLB pitcher or the fish whisperer, and who could blame them?

  So even though no one in the lodge had said as much, Ro had already accepted it; he’d take over the kitchen until Olivia came back. And with all the uncertainty that surrounded her right now, that was the one thing he didn’t question. If and when the day came that she was ready to come back, regardless of her physical abilities, they would do whatever it took to make that happen.

  Without any formal training, Ronan wasn’t anywhere near the chef Olivia was, but when Maggie left them, he’d been forced to take up the cooking duties. At first he’d gone at it with a vengeance, set on proving to his brothers and Da that they didn’t need Maggie, that he could cook just as well as she ever did.

  But even though he’d gone into it angry, it didn’t take him long to discover he actually enjoyed cooking. He liked coming up with new recipes, and he loved that when life started going for shit, he could lose himself in the kitchen by escaping into the scents and flavors of a few simple ingredients.

  So even though he couldn’t offer the same five-star menu Olivia had, he’d make damn good and sure the guests were duly impressed with their meals.

  The door opened behind him, but he didn’t have to turn to see who it was; the hesitation gave it away.

  “Oh…sorry,” Hope said, her soft voice somehow easing a bit of the ten
sion in his head. “I didn’t think anyone was out here.”

  Ro was used to being alone, liked being able to think things through by himself, and yet he found himself shifting his butt over, giving her plenty of room to sit.

  “Come on out if you want.” See? He could be friendly. Sort of.

  He half-expected her to say no and go back inside, but she didn’t. Then again, she didn’t exactly leap at the chance to join him, either. Instead, she stayed where she was for a few long seconds before Ro finally heard the door close and felt the air shift as she sat down next to him and set her big bag between her feet.

  She was still wearing the same hip-hugging jeans she’d arrived in but had traded her thin raincoat for a thick purple hoodie and a long gray scarf that wound around her neck at least three times. She’d pulled her loose braid forward so it lay against the scarf, and her hands were wrapped around a steaming mug of what smelled like blueberries.

  She must have seen his nose twitch, because she smiled a little and brought the mug up to her mouth to blow across the top.

  “It’s blueberry pomegranate tea,” she said. “Like heaven in a mug.”

  Ro shifted his hip so he could tuck Da’s coin back in his pocket. “We have that here?”

  “No. I bring my own stash with me.”

  That made him snicker. “From the weight of that bag you carry around, I’m guessing you pack your own kettle, too.”

  Hope’s smile widened behind her mug, but she neither confirmed nor denied anything.

  With his own mug in hand, Ro didn’t say anything for a while and Hope didn’t seem to expect him to, so they just sat in the silence staring out through the darkness. He’d never been a big talker, but he should say something to her, shouldn’t he? And preferably not anything stupid or inappropriate.

  The harder he tried to come up with something, the tighter his brain knotted. He didn’t usually have this much trouble making conversation with anyone, but there were two things jamming him up this time. Number one: He’d made a horrible first impression on her and the second wasn’t any better, but he’d promised Liam and Finn he’d be nice; he needed to come up with something good to say, because he couldn’t afford a third strike.