The sound of the ringing phone jolted Olivia out of the narrative. She hadn’t realized that she’d edged closer and closer to the computer screen as she read Millay’s opening paragraphs. Haviland was watching his mistress intently, waiting for her to continue.
Irritated, Olivia checked her caller ID and recognized Michel’s number.
“We have a problem,” he announced. “Our entire order of shrimp was delivered less-than-fresh for the second time in a row. I refused to accept it and will never buy from those bastards again, but I can’t leave now to visit the docks. Olivia, I
Olivia glanced at her watch. “Never fear, Michel. I’ll take care of our crustaceous dilemma.”
Reluctantly, she printed Millay’s chapter in hopes of reading it before bed. Next, she hurriedly selected a pair of black slacks, a shimmery lightweight pullover in silver, and a pair of metallic sling-back sandals from her bedroom closet. She hung the ensemble on the dry cleaning hook in the Range Rover.
“To the shrimp docks we go, Captain,” she said and opened the passenger door for Haviland.
The poodle jumped into the car, his puffy tail waving in excitement.
Roaring down the dirt road, Olivia left a screen of dust and sand behind her. The shrimp docks were ten minutes south of town and Olivia worried that the trawlers would either still be out on the ocean or would already be emptied of their payloads. The majority of the shrimpers left before dawn to return late in the afternoon. Olivia was hoping to catch a crew just pulling into the dock. As luck would have it, that’s exactly what she saw as she parked in a hasty slant in the gravel lot.
“We’ve got cash,” she murmured as she removed a bank deposit envelope from the glove compartment. “And we’ve got ice.” She glanced at the large cooler in the back of the Rover. “You’d better wait here, Captain. These macho men might exhibit poodle discrimination and I can’t afford to return without shrimp.”
Haviland fixed his eyes on the dock, eager to accompany Olivia.
“Don’t worry. I’ll leave your window completely open just in case you need to leap out and sink your teeth into one of their calves.”
The poodle leaned forward in his seat and stuck his snout into the salty air.
Normally, Michel oversaw the purchase of fresh food for The Boot Top, but Olivia often accompanied him on his trips to farm stands, herb gardens, and various commercial fishing docks. Michel was meticulous in his selections. He poked, prodded, and scrutinized every piece of fruit, cut of beef, or squirming lobster with an agonizing slowness. Even Haviland grew impatient with Michel, nudging him on the hip with his black nose in a futile attempt to hurry the persnickety chef along.
Confident that she could be as discerning as Michel, Olivia walked down the dock, shielding her eyes against the winking reflection of sunlight bouncing off the water. The roar of the incoming trawler’s motor died down and the vessel coasted toward the dock. With feline grace, a man with a faded baseball hat leapt from the bow onto the dock, a bowline held loosely in his hands.
Ignoring Olivia, he secured the line to a cleat and then raced to the stern to catch another rope. Three men shouted companionable orders to one another, and within minutes, the
“Good haul?” Olivia asked the older man she assumed to be the captain.
“Can’t complain,” he answered gruffly.
Having spent the first ten years of her life with her fisherman father, Olivia knew the man’s response indicated a full hold. “I’m Olivia Limoges. I own The Boot Top and I’m in desperate need of fine, fresh shrimp.”
“Aye. I know who you are.” The man paused in his preparations to unload and stared at her, his deep-set eyes softening as he did so. “You favor your mama. She was a real looker.”
For the moment, Olivia forgot her purpose in coming to the docks. “Did you know her well?”
“Nah. The missus and me would cross paths with her and your daddy from time to time. She always had a kind word for us. Was a real lady, she was.”
“Thank you,” Olivia spoke after a long pause. “I don’t remember much about her, so whenever I come across someone who does, those memories are a gift to me.” Embarrassed by her own candor, she looked away toward the blue blur where the sky met the ocean.
“The waters we fished today were the same color as your eyes, miss. We caught some mighty fine shrimp there.” The captain offered her a tentative smile. “How can I help you?”
Olivia explained how much shrimp she required and that she needed it loaded into her cooler immediately. She and the captain quickly agreed on terms.
“And I have a bonus here to show my gratitude.” Olivia handed the money to one of the mates. The man removed the bills and began to count them.
The captain’s eyes slid over to the money and then returned to Olivia’s face. “You’ve got class, miss, just like your mama did.”
A warm feeling flooded Olivia’s heart. She handed the captain a business card. “I’d like you to be our primary shrimp supplier.” She focused her attention on the captain. “If you contact my chef, Michel, he’ll see to the arrangements.”
The captain and his two mates expressed no obvious satisfaction over her offer, but the slight straightening of their shoulders and the flicker of light in their eyes told Olivia they were pleased. Times were never easy for a fisherman, and a steady buyer created both an element of pride and provided a small measure of relief from constant monetary worries as well.
Back at The Boot Top, the kitchen was a cyclone of activity. Pots bubbled and knives flashed as two sous chefs chopped cloves of garlic, mushrooms, and scallions. Michel flew around the room, barking sharp commands, tasting sauces, and consulting his food-stained recipe notebook. Her employees were pink-cheeked and frenzied. Olivia smiled. All was as it should be in the kitchen of a five-star restaurant.
“Don’t look so smug,” Michel cautioned, reading her expression. “We need stellar reviews if we want to remain the best restaurant on the coast. Those shrimp had better be perfection.”
“You won’t be displeased,” Olivia promised. She and Haviland headed for her office. After replying to several emails, she was just about to review the week’s menus when one of her waitresses tapped on her door.
