* * *
The rest of the day Bryn worked on turning Pappy’s Crab Shack into Chez Madison. As she watched the sample furniture being carried upstairs, she realized a moment of sweet triumph. Rick was going to hate the pastel upholstery and the delicate flowers carved into the light wood. Positioning the chairs around the tables, she told herself it would serve him right to cringe every time he passed by Chez Madison. He’d had no right or reason to treat her so shabbily. The dark justice was she could no longer fool herself into thinking he was interested in her. No more wasted time for her. Now she could give her attention to important matters.
To her chagrin she began wondering if Rick would change his mind and assign the night charter to someone else. That possibility niggled at her mind all morning and afternoon. Later she went to Pappy’s house to shower and change, and on her way back detoured three miles off Malabar Key to buy a key lime pie. She ended up buying the last two at the bakery. Halfway back to Malabar Key she glanced at the pie boxes, screamed in the privacy of her car, and pounded her fists on the steering wheel in frustration. She couldn’t deny the evidence on the seat next to her; she couldn’t stop thinking about him showing up at the meeting.
At eight-ten she thought she saw the Coral Kiss inside the horizon.
At eight-fifteen she put away the binoculars and requested his presence with a bargaining prayer. The committee, including Jiggy and the parrot, arrived instead. They all insisted on waiting for Captain Parrish.
That was twenty minutes ago. Twenty endless minutes filled with Jiggy’s noisy eating, May Leigh’s high-pitched laughter, Hazel Miller’s endless gossip, and Rita Small’s card tricks. There was nothing remotely professional about the group, unless no one had bothered to tell her they were actors auditioning for a television sitcom. Her thoughts kept returning to Rick.
Are you having fun out there with some pretty woman who can’t bait a hook, but laughs at your jokes? And why haven’t you told me any jokes?
Pressing her fingertips against her brow, Bryn scolded herself for thoughts befitting a jealous lover.
She wasn’t the jealous type. And she wasn’t Rick’s lover. He wasn’t interested anyway. She looked to a point beyond the freshly painted north rail. Beneath a big yellow moon, the inky ocean shimmered with spangles of gold light, intermittently broken by the dark clumps of tiny islands. The rustling palms framing the scene blocked her view of the channel and the twangy country and western music on the radio made it difficult to hear a boat’s motor—if one happened to be trolling by.
Just how much fun are you having out there on this beautiful balmy evening, Captain? And when do I get invited out on the Coral Kiss?
Pointedly ignoring the nuzzling couple seated on the floor, she adjusted the mandarin collar of her blouse then smoothed the legs of her capris. Thumbing through the ambulance brochures, she tried to interest herself in comparing the different models. This was one heck of a beginning to her first fund-raising committee meeting. From the cage on the bar, Miss Scarlett echoed Bryn’s sentiments with a barrage of gravelly squawks. The unexpected noise had Bryn clutching for her heart. Enough was enough.
"I believe we’ve given Captain Parrish more than enough time. Let’s get started," she said, reaching for the stack of folders Liza had brought by earlier.
"We ought to wait for Captain Parrish before we do anything," Hazel said, running her hand along the carved armrest of the new chair.
"Yeah. What’s the rush?" Jiggy Latham asked before May Leigh scooped up the maximum amount of salsa a tortilla chip could hold and shoved the whole thing into Jiggy’s mouth. Rick’s lanky employee hummed with pleasure at his current love before continuing. "We’ll just have to start over when he gets here."
"If he gets here," Bryn said, then instantly regretted it. Four sets of eyes flicked their attention in her direction.
Rita Small, the owner of the Nauti-Us Swimsuit Boutique, pushed her idea list aside to flip over the playing cards in front of her. Leveling a squinty gaze across the table at Bryn, she said, "The truth, sugar pie. You and Liza weren’t telling a white lie about Captain Rick being a part of this fund-raiser just to get us to join, were you?"
All four committee members leaned toward Bryn. She gave them a pulse of a smile. Friendly but professional. "Of course he’s cochairing with me." Doubt prevailed in each stare directed her way. She sighed with frustration. "If you don’t believe me, ask Liza." That appeared to work. They were easing back from her, mumbling contentedly.
Sorting through the folders, Bryn handed the first one to Hazel. Hazel opened it, blinked at the lists inside, then closed it. "I miss Pappy’s. Don’t you, Jiggy?"
Jiggy Latham’s face was suddenly wistful as he stopped testing the edges of his new tattoo and looked at the wall where the mermaid mural used to be. "Yeah. We had the best times at Pappy’s. Remember when the Captain bought the Coral Kiss and we went down to christen her?" Laughter rippled through the room, encouraging Jiggy to continue. "And the time Bill Harper dragged that ten-foot sailfish up the steps, plunked it on Captain Parrish’s table over there, and insisted he buy it a beer?"
"I’d call that one sushi grande," May Leigh managed before collapsing in giggles across Jiggy’s lap.
As laughter swelled again, Bryn couldn’t deny the funky charm of Jiggy’s stories. She pursed her lips to keep back a smile, then gave in to a chuckle. The rest of the group stopped laughing and looked at her. In the unnatural silence that followed, Jiggy cleared his throat.
"Can’t see that happening in a place like this," he said, glancing away from the pastel plaid upholstery and over to the French impressionistic paintings leaning against the newly mirrored inner wall. "What time did Captain Parrish say he’d be here?"
"I thought you said that charter was getting back about eight or eight-thirty," Bryn said while attempting to banish the slightly guilty tone in her voice. These people could have a good time at Chez Madison too. Just a different kind of good time.
"That’s right, but Captain Parrish wasn’t on for that charter."
"I—I didn’t know that," she said, flabbergasted by that bit of news. Where was Rick if he wasn’t fishing? She made a valiant attempt to push back a tidal wave of panic. "Well, we shouldn’t put off starting any longer. Wouldn’t you and May Leigh like to join the rest of us up here at the table?"
"We’re fine down here," he said, planting a kiss on May Leigh’s head. Jiggy and Bryn each reached for the plastic pitcher of iced tea at the same time. The pitcher slipped from their struggling hands, crashing to the floor, spilling tea everywhere. In the end May Leigh’s bangs were liberally splashed, and the front of Jiggy’s T-shirt was lightly sprinkled, but Bryn got the worst of it. Scrambling to her feet, May Leigh took off for the ladies’ room, shrieking at Jiggy in a mixture of Japanese and Spanish. Alternately swearing and apologizing in highly understandable English, Jiggy was right behind her.
Bolting out of her chair, Bryn grabbed a stack of napkins from the dessert tray and dropped to her knees to begin sopping up the spill. Although the floors had been sanded, a finishing coat of polyurethane had yet to be applied.
"For pity’s sake, Jiggy, that’s a fine how-do-you-do," Rita called out after him. "What’ll we serve Captain Rick when he gets here?"
Bryn did her best to keep the steam from shooting out of her ears. Who cared if "Captain Rick" had anything to drink? She dropped a slice of lemon onto a soggy napkin. "Captain Rick" wasn’t here. Brushing up another two slices, she set them beside the first. "Captain Rick" wasn’t going to be here. Chasing ice cubes around the hardwood floor, she reminded herself that she didn’t want to think where he could be.
"Bryn, sugar pie, do you have any chilly-cold beer in your Frigidaire?" Rita asked as she pushed back her chair and stood.
"Chilly-cold beer?" Bryn repeated, wondering if it was a brand name she’d never heard of. "It’s possible I have some in the back of it."
Jiggy trailed back into the room after May Lei
gh. The almond-eyed woman nodded toward Bryn. "Cool. Captain Rick loves chilly-cold beer. I’ll get it."
"Don’t bother, May Leigh. I doubt if the Captain’s going to make it here tonight. He never said for sure—"
A chorus of mutinous groans filled the room. "Well, he didn’t say he wasn’t coming either," she added, her hands planted flat on the floor a few inches in front of her knees.
"I said I’d come later if I could."
Four heads turned toward the familiar masculine voice. At the sound of his voice Bryn’s hands stopped moving, her heart started pounding, and her body shook with every emotion she could name and a few she couldn’t. Excitement over his rich baritone voice. Relief that he’d finally shown up. Thankfulness that he’d made it at all. Pure annoyance that he’d gotten himself there this late! Being held hostage to another person’s schedule always irritated her, but when Rick did it, she considered it a terrorist tactic. And did he have to sneak up on her like a one-man SWAT team?
She knew the moment Rick appeared from behind the ornate screen by the stairs. The ripple of excitement in the room was almost palpable. She waited until the rest of the group finished their hero-worshipping hellos. "Good evening, Captain Parrish," she said, tossing another wet napkin onto a growing pile. Once she was sure she’d gotten control of her traitorous physical reactions, her breathy voice turned smooth. "We were just about to start… without you." Her hand carefully closed over the wet pile of used napkins as his polished shoes appeared in front of her. She took a cautious glance up his body. From his neatly combed sun-streaked hair, to his bronze-toned skin and sky blue eyes, he looked Esquire perfect.
"Start what?" he asked, lowering himself to his haunches to set the empty pitcher upright. He pulled a handkerchief from inside his jacket and dabbed her chin. "A food fight?"
###
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Glory Girl
Susan Connell