Nantucket Rose

by CF Frizzell

  “That party of six coming in tomorrow afternoon asked about a cruise for Sunday, but Tug won’t come down on his price.”

  “Tug? That’s cute.”

  “Ken Whitley is anything but cute. This is the fourth time I’ve hired him, so you’d think he’d give me a break. He’s the only private operator available on such short notice, and he knows it.”

  “That’s like extortion or something, isn’t it?”

  “Kinda.” She gathered all the ingredients for brownies and set to work beside Rachel. “So, I’m done. No more cruises after this, and that kills me because they’re so popular. We just can’t afford his prices.”

  “Hate to hear you sound defeated, Mags.”

  “I guess you win some, you lose some, and I need to accept that. Jill McGee expects to see an upward trend when she comes back in a month, but she might be in for a surprise.” She set a bowl of batter on the mixer. “I might be, too, if she says Tuck’r doesn’t show enough promise.”

  “Maybe you can persuade the sexy Ms. McGee with your wily ways. She’s hot for you.”

  “Rachel.”

  “She is. She hardly took her eyes off you when she was here. Okay, so I wasn’t around the whole time, but I know what I saw.”

  “Don’t kid yourself. She inspected every nook and cranny of this house, didn’t miss a trick.”

  “Or the halter top you wore when you took her on that little tour. Her eyes were—”

  “Enough. Jill’s all business. Even her flirtations are about business. And…and so were mine.”

  “So you’re really not interested? She’s high-roller glamorous, Mags, and could probably turn your life around.”

  I’m not looking to turn my life around. I just want it to go forward.

  “It’s all about Tuck’r making a good impression. If I could only have shown an upswing on the books, I’d feel more confident that I’m on the right track.”

  “The track to sell and leave all this behind.”

  Rachel’s gentle voice rang as loudly in Maggie’s head as the clanging pots had earlier. She actually blinked at the impact and tried to focus on getting the brownies in the second oven. Working at this stove had become her salvation since arriving on Nantucket, and she knew she’d miss it. In fact, she’d miss everything about the house, the island, even Ellis, confounding as she’d been lately.

  Rachel didn’t look up from her work when she mumbled, “It’s a shame Ellis turned you down.”

  “In retrospect, it was inconsiderate to ask her to open her home to my guests. I really can’t blame her, but it might have been the best arrangement of all.”

  “It sounds like it, because I can’t think of a better promotion, having a direct descendant of Captain Pratt take houseguests on a sightseeing cruise.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “You should try again.”

  “No, it’s too much to ask.”

  “Just one more shot. What’ve you got to lose?” Rachel snickered. “Is she going to start avoiding you? Will she stop calling?”

  Maggie couldn’t argue. But she’d much rather ask Ellis about her two weeks of silence before she brought up business. Both were foreboding issues.

  “Let’s just concentrate on this and enjoy dinner.”

  “And dessert. Brownies with vanilla ice cream. I saw some in the freezer.”

  “Yes, there’s ice cream.”

  “And you still won’t join us later? Laura said we’d love the RC’s band tonight. I hate to think of you here, brooding. You could use a night—”

  “Thanks, but no, especially on such a miserable night.”

  “The rain might stop later, so that’s no excuse.”

  “I’m not up for tromping through a deluge. Retta and I will be just fine, snug and dry here at home.”

  *****

  Wind-driven rain pelted the Eagle as it docked for the night, and like her coworkers, Ellis repeatedly apologized to debarking passengers for the awful conditions. She didn’t like it any more than they did. Having to finish her workday slogging through the dark as rain drenched her cap, soaked her chinos, and seeped through her windbreaker just topped off a rough day. Only the promise of the Rose’s cozy confines made the trek bearable, and she couldn’t wait to settle in, relaxed enough to plan tomorrow’s call to Maggie. Unforgiveable, wallowing in a funk and dropping off the face of the earth. Don’t be surprised when she refuses to see you. Shame on me—again.

  The irregular wind carried faint music from the RC, interrupting the sounds of splattering water, and she let it entertain her as she strode on, head down, shoulders hunched. Then a frantic call made her stop. It came from the Main Street intersection, and she advanced to the corner and peered toward the historic horse trough that sat in the center. Barely lit by the streetlamps, a woman without rain gear or umbrella stood in the middle of the intersection, cobblestones routing glistening rivulets around her feet as she raised her hands to her mouth and yelled again.

  “Retta!”

  Ellis broke into a run. “Maggie!”

  The dark form spun around and her features materialized as Ellis drew near.

  “Ellis! She’s been gone well over an hour!” Hair hanging in bedraggled strands around her face, Maggie swiped at her cheeks and issued another call down Main Street. Drenched from head to toe, she turned slightly and shouted in another direction.

  Ellis looked about, oblivious to the rain. She called in the opposite direction.

  “I didn’t think she’d want to be out long,” Maggie said and sniffed deeply. She rubbed her eyes with the heels of her palms. “Just ten minutes, and when I called her to come in, she wasn’t in the yard.” She yelled down the street again.

  “Has she ever taken off before?”

  “No. I-I can’t believe it. I searched our neighborhood for half an hour. Then down Centre and back on Federal. I was about to start…” She wiped her cheeks again before gesturing toward South Water.

  “By now, she’d go somewhere familiar.”

  Maggie turned quickly, hope displacing panic in her eyes. “You think I should check back at the house?”

  “Yeah. Up that way. Got your phone with you?” Maggie nodded as she scanned the streets around them. “Go back, then.” Ellis touched her cheek. “I’ll search down here.”

  Maggie backed away, her fearful eyes as dark as her wind-whipped hair. “Thank you.”

  “She’ll turn up, Maggie. Go.” She waved her on. “Keep in touch.”

  Ellis decided to chance checking the docks, knowing how much Retta loved the water. Between her own calls into the night, she heard Maggie’s grow distant as they separated. Come on, Retta. You’re smarter than this. Did you have to pick such a wretched night?

  She yelled out across Straight Wharf and squinted into the darkness, desperate to spot movement along the row of slips or in the tiny, neatly manicured yards of homes that extended into the water. She hustled on, now wondering if Retta remembered Commercial Wharf and where the Rose was docked.

  On the unsteady walkway, a savage gust of wind forced her to turn away, and her call dissipated instantly. She ran her wet sleeve across her face and peered ahead, along the row of trawlers and down each wooden finger pier that separated them, but saw nothing. Finally, she reached the Rose and lifted her hands to call out.

  A scrabbling noise at her bow made her turn. She peeled off her backpack as she ran to the end of the narrow pier and pulled her flashlight from a side pocket.

  Some twenty yards off the Rose’s bow, Retta dog-paddled in place, angry waves splashing her face and negating her progress.

  “Retta! Jesus Christ!” Ellis dropped to her knees and let Retta see her reaching over the edge. “Retta! Come on, pretty girl! You can do it!” She had no idea how long Retta had been treading water, battling and struggling to keep her muzzle above the rough surface, but judging by the blank look in her eyes, she’d bet too long.

  Then Retta sank. Ellis ripped off her deck shoes. She
flashed the light back onto the water just as Retta bobbed back to the surface. Ellis punched in Maggie’s number on her cell and began emptying her pockets into her shoes. She tossed down her windbreaker, and then her cap, just as Maggie answered.

  “Ellis?”

  “Come to the Rose.”

  “No, really?”

  “She’s in the water, but I’ll get her.” She hung up and shoved her phone into a shoe. Again, she checked with the flashlight. The only headway Retta was making was down. Another wave pushed her under too easily, evidence of her dwindling strength.

  “Retta! This way! Come!” She stood on the edge and checked Retta’s position once again, then set the flashlight down, took a deep breath, and dove as far out into the blackness as she could.

  Struck by the cold and now virtually blind, she fought off a full-body shiver and propelled herself upward and outward. Breaking the surface, she caught a glimpse of Retta’s head before it disappeared again.

  Ellis gulped air and shot back beneath the waves, reaching, stretching each stroke, praying she’d make contact and not swim past.

  She slammed into Retta’s torso and locked one arm around it, pumped upward with the other until both their heads popped up into the rainy night. Retta thrashed, clawing desperately, narrowly missing Ellis’s face. Back paws dug into Ellis’s hips, and Ellis had all she could do to outmuscle her and hang on. There’d be gashes in the chinos, in her skin, too, she was certain.

  Several feet from the end of the pier, she saw Maggie running toward them and spat out a “thank you” of salt water. Now they faced the chore of getting one terrified, frenzied dog ashore.

  “Ellis! Oh, God!”

  Maggie threw herself into a prone position at the edge and offered both arms.

  “My windbreaker,” Ellis yelled from just below her reach. “Throw it.”

  Maggie didn’t think. She balled up the jacket and dropped it into Ellis’s hand. She watched, breathlessly, as Ellis maneuvered in the inky water and Retta continued to twist and splash. I’ll never let this dog out of my sight again. And, Ellis Chilton, were you meant to save me from myself?

  Ellis’s hand shot out of the water clutching a sizeable knot of fabric. “Grab this!”

  Extended over the water almost to her waist, Maggie pushed up the sleeves of her sweatshirt and reached as far as she could until she fisted the knot in both hands.

  “Got it!”

  “Now lift!”

  Oh, please, let me be able to do this.

  Maggie hauled upward with all her strength, hoisting Retta in the sling Ellis made, and just when she didn’t think she could lift high enough, she felt Ellis pushing up from below. Right hand gripping the walkway for leverage and left arm looped beneath Retta’s hindquarters, Ellis boosted Retta up, over the edge, and Maggie pulled her onto the pier.

  As Retta scrambled to her feet, Maggie grabbed Ellis’s shirt and helped her up.

  Ellis just sat where she landed, catching her breath. “Thank you. It’s okay now.” She turned her face up into the rain and closed her eyes.

  Maggie wasn’t so sure, and she hauled Retta to her chest and kissed the salty fur atop her head. Panting hard, Retta sat as soon as Maggie untied the windbreaker. Ellis still hadn’t moved. A million emotions pushed Maggie to tears. Even for Ellis, she thought, this excitement must be extreme.

  Retta eventually stood and shook, much longer than usual, then quickly lay down.

  “Rest, sweetie. My best girl.” Maggie gently rubbed her side and kissed her ear before turning to Ellis.

  “I-I don’t know where to begin, what to say. Nothing measures up to what I’m feeling right now.”

  “Wet and tired?”

  Ellis leaned wearily on one outstretched arm, hair disheveled, clothes outlining her lanky frame like a second skin. She looked like a creature the ocean had tossed back, when, in fact, she’d snatched a treasure from its clutches. Maybe the discerning glint in her eyes said she was aware. All Maggie knew for sure was the merciless wind and rain did nothing but enhance her appeal.

  She crawled the few feet to Ellis and sat back on her heels.

  “Wet and tired, yes,” she said, sliding hair off Ellis’s forehead, “but they’re somewhere down the list.” She took Ellis’s hand and squeezed. “Grateful actually is at the top.” She looked down and gasped. “You’re bleeding.” She lifted Ellis’s arm and inspected the gash that extended from mid-forearm to the back of her hand. A watery trail of blood trickled to between her fingers.

  “She got me,” Ellis said, also looking, “but it’s not as bad as it seems. The rain—”

  “God, Ellis. You might need stitches.” She rose to her knees, still holding Ellis’s hand. “Maybe a run to the ER—”

  “It’s all right, Maggie. The salt water is good for it. Please don’t worry.”

  “But—”

  “Shh. I’m fine.” Ellis nodded toward Retta. “She will be, too.” She rose to one knee and the tear and dark stain on her chinos appeared.

  “She got you there, too. Your thigh.”

  Ellis looked down, apparently just realizing it. “Like I said, just scratches. Don’t worry.”

  “I will,” Maggie insisted as they stood, “and I’ll replace the pants. I’m so sorry about this.” Her voice cracked and tears blended into the raindrops on her cheeks.

  “It’s not your fault, Maggie. And you’re not replacing my pants.”

  “Of-of course, I will. This is all…God.”

  “The Steamship will replace the pants. Okay? No problem. Honest. And all this is not your fault. Retta’s fine and safe, and that’s what’s important.”

  “Because of you.”

  Ellis gripped Maggie’s shoulder and crouched slightly to look up at her, but Maggie didn’t dare look back. She knew she’d fall apart. Even weary and soaked to the bone, Ellis projected strength and surety Maggie urgently needed at this moment, support that lifted her heart, and the reassuring hand on her shoulder had her craving more.

  She sniffed and shook her head at herself. Take a breath and get it together.

  “Did you drive down here, by any chance?” Ellis asked, moving to Retta. Immediately missing the contact, Maggie watched her run a tender hand over Retta’s shoulder and cherished the soothing timbre of her voice. “How’s my pretty girl doing?” Ellis stroked Retta’s head and side repeatedly. “Worn out, huh? You rest right here for now.”

  “I don’t have my car, no,” Maggie said, joining Ellis in administering to Retta. “When you called, I just ran like hell.”

  “Right now, she’s too beat to walk back.”

  “I’ll run home and get it.”

  “I can get my truck, if you don’t mind having her across your lap.”

  “Oh, not at all, but we’re all too wet, so sitting in the back would be fine. Thank you. Could you help me carry her off the docks?”

  “I’ll carry her. Two of us could be disastrous.” She surprised Maggie with a smirk. “No more swimming tonight.”

  “Good point.” She touched the back of Ellis’s hand where it rested on Retta’s hip. “We should look at your wound before we do anything else.” The bleeding hadn’t stopped, and diluted by rain, it now covered her wrist and hand.

  Ellis wiped most of it away with her shirttail, but a fresh stream started down her arm.

  “I have a first aid kit on board. I’ll be right back.” She headed for the Rose and Retta righted herself to watch her every move. Maggie stroked her head.

  “She’s something, isn’t she?” Still panting rapidly, Retta blinked against the rain but didn’t look away. “I know you didn’t mean it, honey, but you hurt her. What were you thinking in the first place? Did you fall in?” Retta flopped back on her side, still watching Ellis. Suddenly, she lifted her head.

  Maggie followed her line of vision and saw Ellis walk halfway back to them and stop.

  “We probably should let her recover a bit more, so…Let’s go aboard.”

 
; Chapter Eighteen

  Ellis vaulted onto the Rose and back off a second later with the two-step wooden box. She was glad to see Retta show enough energy to sit up, but knew there couldn’t be much left in her.

  “Come on,” she said, cupping Retta’s head. “We’ll take it slow.”

  They walked tentatively back to the steps and Ellis squatted and lifted Retta, who barely managed to object. Ellis climbed both steps and was over the gunwale and onto the deck promptly, thankful she’d managed it without a wobble or a grunt for Maggie’s sake. She already feels guilty enough. She set Retta onto her feet and reached for Maggie.

  “After a while, you don’t even bother with steps,” she said, “but they do come in handy sometimes.”

  “Well, I certainly appreciate them.” With a firm grip on Ellis’s hand, Maggie gingerly stepped up and over, and Ellis automatically put a hand on her waist to guide her down to the deck. Maggie’s soggy sweatshirt was cold, and Ellis hoped pressing it against that sweet curve of hip didn’t make things worse.

  “Look. Somebody’s already snoozing,” she said.

  Retta had found shelter from the rain beneath the hard-top canopy and was back on her side, eyes closed. She’d stopped panting, but her chest still heaved at a steady clip. She never moved as they tiptoed past and Ellis opened the saloon door.

  “We’ll let her rest. She’s going to be okay.” She shut the door behind them, and the absence of rain and wind intensified the quiet. “The first aid kit is below,” she said, moving to the stairs.

  But just two steps from the top, Ellis looked up at Maggie, past the exhausted slouch in her posture, the soaked clothes, and the wet, disheveled hair, and saw the spark in her eyes. She saw companionship and consideration, ambition battered but not defeated, and an appreciation for her that she didn’t think she’d received from anyone before. Moreover, realizing she wanted Maggie to see the same in her almost staggered her. And I still owe her one hell of an apology. Shit. What a complete ass.

  “Please come down and have something to soothe the nerves.”