Finding Haven (4 page)

“I will pick you up at eight.” He pointed at her as he backed out of the space behind
the register.

“Trav, you’re not listening.” Her hands flew to her hips, and she gave him her most
severe glare. It wasn’t working. He winked in response. Then the words smacked her.

“No, you’re the one not listening. See you then. I’ve got to get all the kayaks checked
in. It’s that time.”

She didn’t hear the last part. She ripped a handful of register paper from the feed
and grabbed a pen from the mason jar on the counter.

Why can’t you give me what I want?

It can’t all be in my head

It’s so easy to feel since we’ve met

Could it be that you’ve always known

And you’re ok leaving me alone

Haven tapped the pen against her cheek. Gah! She couldn’t get the next verse out.
As suddenly as the words popped in, the rest had slipped away from her. Time was the
only answer. Time with her guitar, her hammock, and no more distractions.

“Miss, do you have any crab nets?” An older gentleman whose shorts were embroidered
with marlins stood in front of the register.

“Huh?” Haven shook her head. “Oh, crab nets. Yes, yes, we have plenty of crab nets.”
She walked from behind the counter, leaving the lyrics next to the register.

She guided the man to the side of the store lined with fishing tackle. “Do you need
child size or adult size?” she asked the man.

“There are different sizes for different size crabs?” He scratched his head.

Haven repressed a sigh. Tourists. “No, I meant is the net for a child or an adult?
We have some with extenders that makes it easier for the kids to scoop up the crabs
if they’re crabbing from the piers.”

He chuckled at his mistake. “Oh, I see. Well, we need both. We’ve got the whole family
here for two weeks. My grandkids, my son, and his wife. It’s going to be a big time.”

The register paper fluttered when the air conditioning kicked on. Haven saw it slip
to the floor and panic gripped her. She should have stuffed it in her apron pocket.

She forced a smile. “That sounds nice. Where are you from?” This was part of the job—making
small talk with tourists. Her parents had been in business for twenty-five years,
but her grandparents had run the store before them. It was a family business based
on southern hospitality, and she needed to get with the program even though her lyrics
were lying somewhere on the floor.

“Pennsylvania. Our friends from church vacationed here last summer, and they couldn’t
stop talking about it. Thought we’d give it a try. This is our first time on the island.”

Haven didn’t want to tell him how obvious that was. “Well, I hope you and your family
have a great time.” She reached for the crab nets. “Is there anything else I can get
you?”

“How about some of these fishing gadgets?” He pointed at one of the pink lures. “The
boys might want to try it. They’d have fun trying to catch something.”

“You need some tackle? Did you bring any rods with you?”

The man studied the fluorescent fishing gear. “No, I guess I need some of that too.”

Haven knew this time the sigh had escaped her lips. She closed her eyes. Time to refocus.
“Ok, well let me put these nets behind the register for you, and you can tell me all
about your fishing needs and we’ll get started on that next.”

She trudged to the register and placed the nets against the wall. Her father was never
around when it was convenient, and there was actually a customer who needed help.
She knew exactly where he was. Anger singed along her temples.

The Pennsylvania man was focused on the filament lines and silver weights. She had
at least a second to find the paper with the freshly minted lyrics. Dropping to the
floor, she reached under the bottom of the shelf and raked her fingertips along the
floorboards. She hit something soft and gooey. Ick. Travis needed to do a better job
with the floors. It had probably been a year since he had gotten under here.

“Miss, do you think my grandson should have this graphite rod or something a little
heavier?”

Still on her hands and knees, she shouted over the counter, “On my way.”

As usual, the lyrics would have to wait.

E
VAN PULLED
the handle on the campground office door. A pair of bells jingled as the door closed
behind him. On the other side of a laminate desk sat a woman with short gray hair.
This is not how he pictured someone named Shug. She was missing bangle bracelets,
fluffy curls, and sweet perfume.

“Good morning.” He smiled at the woman who didn’t sport an ounce of makeup.

“Ahh, good morning. You must be—” Her lips twisted around as if she was trying to
recall Evan’s name.

He extended his hand. “Jay. I’m Jay.”

He had settled on a cover story while he got dressed. He was going to be Jay, the
writer. It was a little Hemingway-esque, but he immediately knew it was the kind of
character he could easily play for as long as he was on the island. One day he would
have to tell Ivy how she unknowingly helped him on this escape.

“Nice to meet you, Jay. I’m Shug. My husband said he put you up in Silver Belle.”

“Yes, ma’am. She’s great.” He winced, knowing his enunciation of ma’am had slipped.
He was rusty with the accent work.

“I’m kinda partial to Silver Belle, but Pearl of the Oyster is a close second in my
heart. I really wanted to go with a picnic theme. Picnic at the beach.” Her hands
stretched across the air in front of her. “Harry told me to have at it. He’s not much
for decorating.” She giggled.

“Yep. I got the picnic part with the red checks. Very nice.”

Shug pulled a folder from the desk drawer and licked her thumb as she flipped through
a few pages. “Ok, if you could fill out your name, email address, and length of stay
right here.” She pointed at the open lines and twirled the folder around for Evan.
“How many nights? We charge in advance.”

Evan reached for the pen she had offered. Earlier this morning he had told Harry he
would stay all month, but it didn’t feel right. “I’d like to take Silver Belle for
the entire summer.”

Shug jumped in her seat. “
All
summer? My, that’s a surprise.”

Evan kept his focus on the three lines he had to fill in.

“Did Harry tell you the nightly rate for the campers?” She had retrieved a calculator
from the same desk drawer, and she began counting the rest of the summer days on the
calendar out loud.

“No, but I have cash. It’s not a problem.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and
rocked back on his heels. He would need to go into town and buy something other than
boots.

The campground hostess whistled. Evan got the impression she wasn’t used to long-term
camper residents. She scribbled a few numbers, and then punched them into the calculator.

“All right. If you stay until the end of August, that’s ninety-two days at sixty-five
dollars a night.” She paused as if to see if Evan was going to interrupt her. “With
tax and water fees, that comes to sixty-five hundred dollars.”

Evan handed her the pen. “Ok. I need to run back to Silver Belle, but I’ll bring the
cash in a few minutes.”

Shug looked at him suspiciously. That was the last look he wanted to see.

“Promise. I’ll be right back.” He smiled his best movie star grin and darted out of
the office door.

He jogged the trail to the camper, tugged twice on Silver Belle’s handle, and reached
for his duffle bug. Everything he had was in that bag, along with several wads of
cash. He formed two stacks with the bills until he had all sixty-five hundred dollars
to hand to Shug. He shoved the money in his front pockets and slammed the door behind
him.

The salt air hit him the same time his phone started ringing. He clenched his jaw
and his fist as he pulled it from his back pocket.
Emmy.
He pressed decline and tucked the phone in his jeans. Emmy wasn’t going to give up
until she talked to him. One of the things he had liked about her from the beginning
was her persistence, but right now, it was the one thing that was pissing him off.
Funny how cute, endearing things could suddenly turn into the ones that were the most
aggravating. Evan smacked a mosquito against his neck as he trudged back to the campground
office.

E
VAN PULLED
into an open space in front of Owen’s General Store. Shug had told him he could find
everything he needed from beer to flashlights at the island’s largest store.

He didn’t recognize the song playing on the local station, but he liked the words.
Something about summertime, sand, and dancing. It wasn’t anything like his Texas music,
but the lyrics were catchy. He adjusted the volume on the radio. He liked to play
it loud since he had rolled the top down, but part of staying incognito was not drawing
attention to himself.

His boots hit the gravel parking lot, and he took the steps into the store two at
a time. On the other side of this door was a twelve-pack with his name on it. Who
cared if it was only ten in the morning? It was time to get this indefinite vacation
started.

“Welcome to Owen’s,” a guy wearing an apron called across the store. He was stocking
the freezer with beer.

Evan walked in his direction. “Thank you. That’s just what I was looking for.”

“Sure, man.” He handed Evan a case of beer. “Haven should be back at the register
now. She can ring you up—unless there’s something else you’re shopping for today.”

Something about the store reminded him of his hometown in Texas. He couldn’t quite
put his finger on what seemed so familiar. He was about as far away from Brees, Texas,
as he could get.

“Actually, I have some more shopping to do.” Evan knew his list was longer than just
a case of beer.

“How about I take that for you, and you can have a look around?” The clerk gripped
the sides of the cardboard carton and headed toward the front of the story. “Holler
if you need anything.” Evan couldn’t help but notice how friendly the guy was.

“Thanks.” Evan began browsing the outer perimeter of the store. There wasn’t much
in the duffle bag he had left in the camper. A few T-shirts, another pair of jeans,
his running shoes, and enough boxer briefs to make it through the week. He didn’t
need much.

He eyed the wall of board shorts. Now that he was living at the beach for the summer,
he would need a pair. Unless there was a red carpet event that Kelly Saint-James insisted
he participate in the black tie selection, he had no interest in clothes. T-shirts
and jeans fit every occasion. It felt strange to stand in front of the wall display
of bathing suits. He reached for a navy pair with a white stripe on the side pocket.
They were simple. He needed simple.

Behind the swimwear was a rack of suntan lotion—something else he hadn’t thought to
throw in his bag. Sullen’s Grove was the original destination; he reminded himself
he hadn’t planned on driving until the road ran out.

On the other side of the dressing room was a stand stacked with flip-flops. Exactly
what he needed to fit in on the island. Beachgoers didn’t wear boots, especially not
fifteen-hundred-dollar designer boots. Evan glanced down at the brown leather encasing
his feet before grabbing a pair of tan flip-flops with a rainbow logo on the side.

He strolled back to the other side of the store where the grocery aisles were. Yesterday
he had avoided junk food. Jake, his personal trainer for the past two years, would
punch him if he saw Evan eyeing the row of cookies and chips. The hell with that.
Jake wasn’t here to force raw eggs and protein shakes down his throat. Evan tossed
two bags of corn chips in his arms.

Trying to balance all of the items between his hands, he dumped his shopping selections
on the counter. He looked up in time to hear an auburn-haired girl with the prettiest
frown he had ever seen, curse under her breath. One of the bottles of lotion rolled
off the pile and bumped against her hand, jarring the pen she was using against the
paper.

He thought he heard her sigh. She scooped up the note and tucked it into the front
pocket of her apron.