a computer along with luggage would come to the island at this time of year. He, obviously, wasn’t there to watch birds or to fish.
John replied, “Ah, I hope so.” Ever since boarding the plane in Portland, he’d been having second thoughts. As a kid, they’d stayed in rental cottages and it hadn’t occurred to him that there wasn’t a hotel. He approached closer to the counter, trying to fashion his next statements. “I used to come here with my dad a long time ago and kinda came here now on impulse. I need a place to stay and would like to find work to pay my way.”
The man looked puzzled, “Well … I’m not hiring, and we ain’t exactly got any jobs that I know of. Son, this is really a small place, and everyone kinda works for hisself. You got any skills?”
After the other man had departed, there were no other people in the store except the clerk, who John guessed was also the owner. He seemed suspicious, probably disbelieving anything John would say. “I’m a writer and just want to be in a quiet place to finish a novel I’m working on. Honestly, I’d be content for room and board in exchange for work.”
The old man smiled. “You know, kid, we only got one kinda work here: it’s workin’ on the boats. Don’t know anyone needs a sternman or someone to be fillin’ bait bags or banding claws. If you’s to stand on the dock there at the early mornin’ there’s a chance that someone might use you, but not many’s goin’ out in this kinda weather. I ain’t sayin’ don’t try, I’m just tellin’ ya true. We’re a poor island, and it’s trouble enough keepin’ our own people workin’.”
John pursed his lips momentarily before responding. “Yeah, I understand, but I need to try anyway. I don’t need much, and I’ll work hard.”
The store man looked John over, “Ya look fit enough. You can give it a go and see what happens. Maybe you should plan to stand down there several days and give yourself more of a chance.” The storekeeper motioned toward the dock. “You know, get to know some of the boats. Ain’t that many fishin’ this late in the season.”
“Well, thanks, I’m not completely destitute; I’ve got a little cash and could spend a week or so, paying my own way.”
The door opened and John saw the reflection of a female in heavy clothes and a knit hat wave at the counterman who looked briefly in her direction saying, “Hi, Mary.”
John didn’t glance away and the conversation resumed. The Storekeeper said, “Well, son, there’s only one inn here. It’s more of a two-room bed & breakfast during the tourist season. If you want, I can check if they got any rooms? Actually, I can ask directly.” He glanced away. “Mary, could you come up here?”
She emerged from behind a row of shelves, carrying some cans and package of tortillas. “Hi, Ben, I just need a couple a things.” She gave John a long look as she approached, “Hi, I’m Mary.”
John could see that she was young, probably still a teenager judging by her fresh appearance without makeup. “Hi, I’m John, John Smith.” His recital wasn’t quite synchronized, causing Mary and Ben to glance at each other.
Ben interjected, “Mary, Mr. Smith here’s lookin’ for work and a place to stay for a time. He says he’s willin’ to work for his keep. Is there anything goin’ on with your old man that John here could help? He looks pretty strong.”
John was over six feet and weighed around two hundred pounds. He’d stayed in shape after military service, although he was out of condition by their standards. He was clean shaven and wore his brown hair short, barely able to keep a part and comb it over.
She turned slightly toward him and gave an assessing look, top to bottom. “I don’t know. If daddy does, he ain’t told me, but that doesn’t mean nothin’. He never seems to need people, but then, again, he brings ‘em aboard now and again, kinda on a whim, I guess. You want me to ask him, Mr. Smith?”
He smiled at her, “Yeah that would be nice, Miss …?”
She held out her mittened hand and they shook. “I’m Mary Swensen. My daddy owns the lobster plant on the docks. He takes in the lobsters off the boats and packs ‘em in ice and takes them in his boat to Portland to be sold. He’s the only one on the island that’s doin’ it.”
John smiled, “I’d appreciate it, Miss Swensen. Do you work there also?”
“Me? No! I’m at school on the mainland, just home for the weekend. I get home about one time a month, lessin’ there’s a holiday or break or something. I came home this mornin’ and am jus’ helpin’ my mom get dinner goin.’”
She seemed to be smiling slightly, or just had a natural up-curved mouth that would always look pleasant, maybe even inviting. John could see that she was pretty and guessed that she was probably physically trim under layers of clothing. Other than her oval face and green eyes, he could only see the edge of her medium brown hair pulled back under a knit hat.
As the two younger people looked at each other, Ben asked, “Mary, you got any rooms at the Inn? Mr. Smith here needs a place to stay. He can even pay some for a bit ‘til he gets some work. He’s here for some quiet time to write a book. He’s a author.”
She became more animated, “An author? What have you written? I like romance novels. You write any of them?”
He flushed, “No ma’am, I’m a kind of biologist, and I’m writing a story based a little on my lab experience along with some intrigue.” He was thinking fast, since he’d never written anything in his life other than term papers and scientific log notes. If anyone really questioned his story, he wouldn’t be able to support it.
She shrieked, “A biologist! Ben, did you hear it, we got us a genuine scientist who’s also a famous author. Wait ‘till I tell my folks.”
Ben had both hands on the counter, “Well, hells bells, what do you think, Mary? We should be happy to have Mr. Smith with us.”
The sarcasm was thick. Mary’s interest seemed genuine enough. But her interest might have been something else. John couldn’t tell if she was really interested in his author story. Clearing his throat, he said, “Yeah, ah, I could really use a place to stay tonight.”
She smiled, “Well, you wouldn’t a’bin the first guy to sleep over at the church in the pews, but I gotta warn you, it’s cold in there at night, cuz they don’t keep the heat on except for services.”
He must have had a forlorn expression when Ben said, “Now, Mary, that ain’t no way to treat a new fellow. You just ask your folks and get Mr. Smith here set up for the night. Tomorrow, he can work on gettin’ a job.”
She looked at Ben, saying, “Okay, Ben, no more funnin’ Mr. Smith. Can I use your phone?”
“Sure, come on around.”
She went to the desk just behind Ben, and quickly dialed four numbers. “Momma, hi, can I speak to Daddy? … Ahuh, I got ever’ thing … Daddy, there’s a visitor to town and he needs a place to sleep and work, and I’m thinkin’ he could stay at the cottage; he can pay … Ahuh, yeah, I understand. He’s young and strong and a author of books … Yeah, okay. I’ll do that. Thanks, Love you.”
Both men looked at her as she turned around, saying, “The cottage, which we call a B&B for the tourists, ain’t heated right now and closed until the season, startin’ in May.”
John’s expectations dropped as he thought about lying on a cold church pew all night, then going to look for a job on the dock without bathing or shaving. Before he could say anything, Mary added, “Daddy wants you to come to the house. He wants to meet the author and probably check you out.”
Ben, scolded, “Now, Mary, Your daddy isn’t that kinda man, what’s the real deal?”
“Okay, well, Daddy says Mr. Smith here, John, he can stay in Buddy’s room if he’s clean an’ honest, which he already knows he is cuz he knows I wouldn’t have asked the way I did.”
John looked pleased and glanced at Ben for advice, skeptical of anything Mary might say. Ben said, “Well, there you have it. You got a place for tonight and maybe even a chance to inquire about work at Swensen’s. His son, Mary’s ol
der brother, joined the Marines after high school, so Gort’s got no one to help him at the factory. Not that there’s much to do there since the fishin’ fleet is mostly workin’ on a winter schedule now.”
John was elated, he shifted his look to Mary, “Well, great! I like this idea.” In the background of his consciousness, he also liked the idea of being under the same roof as this young girl. She was at least twelve years younger, but there was something appealing about her. She was an imp. He had to control his primal urges. Right now, he had arranged a place to stay, and it could have been a lot worse – he thought about the church.
Mary smiled, looking at Ben, “I got to get daddy some stuff, then Mr. Smith and me can take a walk.” She went to the back of the store to get a quart of Jim Beam and a carton of Kent cigarettes. Placing this on the counter to be bagged with the rest, she gave John a quick smile. She was amused, watching his reaction to a seeing a young girl unhesitant about openly buying things that were clearly illegal for a minor. It reinforced his understanding of local law. It felt like he had entered a foreign country.