Something to Treasure

by Virginia McCullough

  Jerrod pointed to her notebook. “So, you got enough out of my rambling to organize a PR program?”

  “Absolutely. Especially since you realize you’re off to a late start. Typically, I’d have started planning to establish a business like yours last fall, January at the latest. Oh, I can pull a few strings with editors and advertising departments and call in a favor or two.” She shrugged. “I bring local publications a fair amount of business.”

  “I get it,” Jerrod said, staring out into the lobby. “It’s good to be so well connected.”

  Dawn followed his gaze, but she saw he wasn’t staring at anything in particular. He had lost himself in his own world of thought. But when she caught a glimpse of his watch, she jolted into high alert. She stuffed her notebook in her bag and scooted to the edge of the chair. If his watch was right, she barely had enough time to get to Union Station.

  “I’m sorry to cut this short.” She stood and grabbed her coat. “I should have checked the time, but I got caught up in all the ideas popping in my brain. We’ll need to finish this on the phone. Right now, I need to hustle to catch my train—it leaves in about twenty-five minutes.”

  “So sorry, Dawn,” he said, getting to his feet. “My questions kept coming up nonstop, and I never thought about the time.”

  As they hurried through the lobby to the revolving doors, Dawn saw Jerrod pull cash from his pocket and assumed it was to tip the doorman. She started to protest that she could handle the tip herself, but she didn’t bother. She was impressed that he’d thought of it.

  “I’ll call you tomorrow to discuss details,” Jerrod said after he told the doorman they needed two cabs. “We never got to your fee, but we can settle that in the morning. We’re planning to move into The Sleepy Moon Inn by the end of the week.” He held out his hand. “So, can we shake on a deal, and tomorrow we’ll finalize our terms?”

  Running late or not, Dawn stifled a strong urge to dance a jig right there on the sidewalk in front of the hotel. Instead, she took his outstretched hand. It was reassuring and he held it firmly for just the right amount of time. She was thrilled to have a new project. No, not any project, this one. With him. Her conference fee and the hefty hotel bill had paid off. But it wasn’t only about the money. Jerrod himself had an intriguing air about him. Not the warm-and-fuzzy type, maybe, but worldly and serious.

  When a taxi pulled up, the doorman opened the back seat door for her while Jerrod rolled her suitcase to the car so the driver could put it in the trunk. When he reappeared, he put his hand to his ear as if holding a phone and again said, “I’ll call you.” He backed away and waved.

  As the cab pulled away from the curb, she checked the dashboard clock. Only twenty minutes until her train pulled out of Union Station. Why hadn’t she paid attention? Because she’d been stimulated and focused, her brain occupied with ticking off ideas. The ability to block out distractions was one of her strengths. It served her well, except when it backfired. Like now.

  Why was the cab creeping along, coming to a full stop, then swerving out from behind one bus and then another? It was Sunday, after all, not rush hour on a Monday morning. Suddenly anxious, she repeated familiar clichés in her mind about worrying being useless, a waste of time. But her self-talk was a bigger waste of time. She went right back to willing the cab to speed up. The driver threaded through streets at normal speed when possible, but slammed on the brakes when he couldn’t run a yellow light or was forced to a sudden stop because a pair of red rear lights appeared perilously close.

  It wasn’t the driver’s or Jerrod’s fault. It was hers alone. When the cab pulled up to the curb in front of Union Station, she reached into her pocket and brought out cash, but the driver waved his index finger back and forth. “No, no, no.” In his lilting accent, he told her the gentleman at the hotel had paid the fare.

  When had he done that? Must have been when he rolled her suitcase to the trunk. With theatrical flourish, the driver lifted her suitcase from the trunk like it was a bag of feathers and wheeled it to the revolving door. He touched his fingertips to his cap and hurried back to his cab before she could tip him. Jerrod must have taken care of that, too.

  She rushed into the station and onto the escalator. On the lower level, she checked for the track number on the departure board and broke into a jog. She picked up even more speed as she passed the deserted glassed-off waiting area. When she got to a set of double doors, she saw the track, as empty as the waiting room. And what could she expect? She was nearly ten minutes late. Stopping in place, she let out a loud sigh.

  “Was that your train?” a man in an Amtrak uniform called out from a few tracks away.

  “It sure was. I just missed it.”

  He walked toward her, his expression sympathetic. “The next one leaves in two hours.”

  Offering a weak smile in return, she muttered, “Thanks. I’ll be sure to be on it.”

  She dreaded having to call her ex-husband, but she had no choice. He and his wife, Carla, were expecting her, but she’d be delayed now. Gordon, at thirteen, wouldn’t care. He was happy enough with spending time with Dad. Bill wouldn’t mind, either. But Carla? That could be another story.

  It took only a minute to get Bill on the phone to deliver the bad news. “Long story short, I missed my train. Traffic downtown was heavier than usual. Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I’ll be a couple of hours late picking up Gordon.”

  “Okay, no problem,” Bill said, his voice friendly as usual. “We’ll see you when you get here.”

  Easy enough. She exhaled and the anxiety dissipated in an instant. She nearly laughed out loud. “Thanks. I really am sorry.”

  “Oh, wait...hang on a minute,” he said.

  She heard two voices, but Bill was obviously trying to muffle the sound, so she couldn’t understand what was being said.

  “Uh, Carla wanted me to ask if you’re certain you’ll get here tonight,” Bill said when he came back on the line.

  She wouldn’t let her irritation bleed through. “I’ll be there, Bill. I had planned everything pretty much down to the minute. But the plan went awry. I can explain when I get there.”

  “It’s just that Zinnie has been fussy the last few days. Carla thinks she’s teething. Gordon’s spent most of his time making faces to try to distract her.”

  “Sounds nice, Bill,” she whispered. Unwittingly, he’d painted a simple picture of what was going on in his house, and she envied it all out of proportion. “Like I said, I’m sorry.”

  Why was she eating humble pie? Their arrangements almost always revolved around Carla, especially with the new baby. Not so new. She was already ten months old. And probably crawling into everything, Dawn thought, trying to be fair. But when it came to Bill and Carla, nothing seemed fair.

  When she ended the call, Dawn walked to the waiting room and tried to recapture the excitement of the conference, especially winning an award. It was the first time she’d been recognized for work by her colleagues in the public relations industry. To top it off, she’d landed a new client, who also happened to be an interesting, attractive man. Well, more than that. Bringing his face to mind, movie star handsome seemed to fit. She gave her head a little chastising shake. Stop, stop it right now.

  She opened her tablet and began transferring her handwritten notes and sprinkling in the new ideas springing into her head. She started a separate file for her estimates of Jerrod’s initial expenses, mainly the cost of the ads and his brochures. She sent an email to Ian Shepherd, the photographer she’d used for her fitness center client. She was crossing her fingers that he had some free hours in his schedule. He had a great eye for design and he’d done brochures for sleek sailboats, too.

  The email to Ian sent, Dawn indulged in a grumpy sigh. She’d been “on” all weekend, but she’d run out of steam. Missing the train and the obligatory apology to Bill left her deflated. But then her thoughts f
lipped back to her meeting with Jerrod in the hotel lobby. He had such serious gray eyes, but they occasionally surprised her with flashes of warmth. Sure, he’d been all business in demeanor, but she’d enjoyed the easy way he answered her questions. And he’d showed hints of passion about his life on the water. Like it was a calling, not only a business. But what had happened to his wife, she wondered, and would he tell her?

  When her thoughts circled back to the present, the letdown returned, particularly when it came to Bill and his cozy new life. He’d left her four years ago, announcing it one cold January night after what Dawn had naively believed were their best holidays ever, starting with the huge Thanksgiving open house for a few dozen family and friends and ending with a quiet New Year’s Eve spent with their next-door neighbors and their three kids.

  No wonder she was surprised that night when Bill said he needed to talk. She’d only been mildly concerned when they sat down together at the kitchen table, because she’d assumed his mood had something to do with office politics. But, not wasting a second, Bill opened their conversation by saying, “I want a divorce.”

  She froze in place, stunned and silent. When she at last found her voice the first words she uttered were, “But we’ve been talking about having a baby. A couple of weeks ago. In the car. It was Christmas Eve.”

  Bill had run his fingers through his prematurely gray hair and did her the courtesy of confirming their conversation about a second child wasn’t a figment of her imagination. In fact, her desire to have another baby was why he considered it imperative to own up to what had happened. He’d fallen in love with Carla, a colleague at the insurance company where he worked as an actuary. He was sorry, he’d said. So sorry.

  Right.

  Dawn had descended into crushing grief, but ultimately worked through it and moved on with a vengeance, starting with her business. In the first twelve months of living as a single mom, she’d doubled her business income. In the second twelve months, she’d begun dating. Mixed results for sure, including with Chip, the man she’d hoped could be her second chance. At first, he’d claimed to be enthusiastic about having a child if their relationship blossomed, but he showed zero interest in Gordon. Not exactly stepdad material. She’d collected all the warning signs she needed, but it still hurt to give up on what at the beginning seemed like a promising relationship.

  Sitting alone in the waiting room at the train station, she tried mightily to ignore those thoughts. For all her so-called adjustment to life after her difficult divorce, Dawn hadn’t allowed herself to think that Bill and Carla would have a baby of their own. Why had that been so difficult to accept?

  As if she didn’t know.

  Carla was living the life she’d wanted—expected—for herself. That was the heartbreaking truth. It was as if an imposter had stepped in and taken over Dawn’s life.

  Tired of sitting, she stood and slung the attaché over her shoulder and left the waiting room. Still an hour to go. She needed to move, walk, observe, absorb. She wouldn’t lift her mood sitting alone, thinking about little teething Zinnie.

  Chapter Three

  HOLDING CARRIE’S HAND, Jerrod pointed to the boat tied up at the dock on the blustery April day. “See? Rob and Wyatt got here safe and sound.”

  The two waved at Carrie from the stern of the Lucy Bee. Jerrod greeted Nelson White, the owner of the boatyard-marina, who he’d dealt with on the phone over a period of several weeks. Nelson stood at the end of the dock dressed for winter in a knit hat and heavy gloves. So far, Dawn’s weather prediction for the week had played out exactly as she’d described: cold and mostly rainy. Count on miserable, she’d warned Jerrod the day before he drove up and checked into the hotel. In his texted reply he’d teased her about being a meteorologist on the side. He enjoyed teasing her, maybe because she laughed so easily at even his lame remarks.

  Nelson pointed to the Lucy Bee, a seventy-foot passenger ferry designed to take guests out on day tours along the coast and to the sites of wrecks. “Nice-looking,” he said. “We don’t have nearly enough of these excursion boats down our way. Most of them cluster up a little north of us in Sturgeon Bay. I’m glad to see you set up shop here in Two Moon Bay.”

  Jerrod nodded, pleased at Nelson’s response. Lucy Bee had started her life as a ferry and later was converted to a tour boat on the Mississippi, but Jerrod liked to think he was giving the vessel a third incarnation on Lake Michigan. Rob suggested changing the boat’s name to something more distinguished, maybe, but Jerrod had nixed that idea. He didn’t consider himself a superstitious man, but as far back as he could remember he’d been warned that changing the name of a boat was asking for trouble. He couldn’t shake the notion that boats of any kind were alive in their way. That meant the Lucy Bee started her life with a name of her own, and that’s how it should stay.

  “I’m eager to get the business moving,” Jerrod said, pulling the hood of his jacket up over his head to ward off the rising wind. At least the rain had stopped for the moment.

  Nelson motioned with his chin at the water. “All well and good, but you still have a few weeks before it’s fit to take people out there. It’s only April, man. It can be raw up here even in May. Most folks won’t put their boats in the water ’til close to Memorial Day.”

  “I know. Dawn Larsen, who’s doing some promotion for me, warned me that the weather can be iffy all the way to Memorial Day and into June.” At Dawn’s suggestion, Jerrod was adding an all-caps line to his brochure about bringing along jackets and hats. Dawn suggested taking one more step and keeping a backup supply of sweatshirts and caps in a storage bin.

  Nelson gestured to the empty space behind the tour boat. “When we get your dive boat in the water this afternoon, we’ll dock her right there. You’ll have easy-on, easy-off for both boats. You need anything, you know where to find me.”

  Jerrod had the feeling Nelson would be as good as his word. Something about the down-to-earth guy reminded him of people he’d grown up with.

  “Rob, Wyatt!” Carrie shouted. “I’m going to a new school.”

  “So I heard,” Rob called back in a loud voice. “Very exciting, Miss Carrie.”

  Her giggles instantly turned Jerrod’s heart to butter. Rob and Wyatt called her Miss Carrie precisely because it brought on her little-girl laughter. But then, he’d been able to count on his two younger crew, both not much over thirty. They’d been with him through these last years, the darkest time of his life. Wyatt, in particular, had used her business savvy to patch together a viable, if scaled-down version of Adventure Dives & Water Tours when Jerrod barely cared anymore. Rob made sure their equipment stayed top-of-the-line and their boats in good repair. The two had been the glue that held the operation together. Even more important, they acted like older siblings or aunt and uncle to Carrie, who had lost her big sister when she was too young to understand why.

  Jerrod was suddenly conscious of Rob looking past him and down the dock. Pivoting on his heel, he saw Dawn coming toward him, dressed in practical jeans, a jacket and sneakers. But she had that large handbag slung over her shoulder, looking like a woman on a mission—an organized mission at that. They’d been in touch by email and text throughout the week, sending a letter of agreement and priority lists back and forth. Watching her shade her eyes as she approached, looking beyond him to the boat, he once again had the strong feeling he’d found exactly who he needed to help him launch this phase of his business. He’d had a specialty food basket sent to Kym as his way to say thanks.

  Although Dawn hadn’t yet been formally introduced to his crew, she waved at Rob and Wyatt. Jerrod would handle the social rituals later, but he couldn’t help but notice the way Rob stared at her. Even from a distance he was certain her distinctive reddish blonde curly hair had caught Rob’s eye. And his crew member didn’t even know Dawn had the clearest light brown eyes he’d ever seen. Or maybe her eyes were green. He couldn’t be sur
e, but they were unusual—and, he’d learned, unforgettable.

  Throughout their initial meeting, Jerrod had tried not to focus too much on Dawn’s natural beauty, but even her teal blue reading glasses added to her unique look. All week he’d made a studied effort not to be too eager for their next meeting. Knowing she was single wasn’t helping that effort, but even hinting that he found her attractive was out of the question. To a T, he fit the description of what many women feared: unavailable. In every way. It hadn’t been that long since he’d become a fully present dad again to his little girl.

  “Hey, Nelson,” Dawn said, playfully elbowing the boatyard owner. “How are you doing? I haven’t run into you in a long time.”

  “Good, good. So, you’re part of the welcome wagon,” Nelson observed.

  “I am, and you’ll be seeing a lot of me down here at the docks.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Nelson smacked his hands together. “How did I get so lucky?”

  Jerrod snorted a laugh. As if this pretty woman would ever date an old-timer like Nelson.

  “Hey, Nelson and I go way back,” she explained, casting Jerrod a distinct look that said “cool off.” “His grandson goes to school with my son. They hang out with the brainy kids who started a chess club.”

  Embarrassed by his own ridiculous assumption, Jerrod decided his best bet was to say nothing.

  Dawn crouched down in front of his daughter. “Let me guess. Is your name Carrie?”

  His little girl nodded, not a bit shy. She tugged on Melody’s hand. “This is Melody. She takes care of me. She took me to my new school.”

  “I’m sorry,” Jerrod said, “I didn’t get to all the introductions.”

  As if wanting to be in the know, Carrie said, “Daddy, is this the lady who’s going to help you get customers on your boats?”