“Wow,” Huck says.
“So the Vickerses will serve time for fraud and money laundering. They allowed Ascension to buy and sell land from one fictional entity to another using their real estate concern. Welcome to Paradise Real Estate was as dirty as they come.”
“They’ll both serve time?” Huck says. “What about their son?”
“Staying with Douglas’s sister on St. Croix.” Vasco sighs. “Those diaries are my last shot. Croft is a slippery bastard. I’d love to nail him.”
Vasco is tough; Huck likes that about her.
Huck is distracted on his charter. He has three lawyers from Philadelphia on board who are going out on the boat only so they can escape their wives, smoke the Cuban cigars they scored in the BVIs, and enjoy a day on the water. They don’t care if they catch any fish. All good; less concentration required from Huck. He hates to phone it in but he can’t get his mind off the question of whether or not to call Irene when they get back to the dock. Would she want to know about Paulette and Douglas Vickers? He normally would say yes but now all bets are off; she has been radio-silent since she left. He thought she’d come to her senses and that one of these mornings, he would find her waiting by the Mississippi with two sausage biscuits and two cups of strong black coffee. But no such luck.
He won’t call her, he thinks. She made it clear she didn’t want to talk about those diaries ever again.
He misses her at work. He misses her at home. He tries to maintain for Maia’s sake. He continues to grill mahi or he stops at Candi’s for barbecue, but more often than not, he feeds Maia and drinks his own dinner, smokes his dessert. He doesn’t make any move to hire a new mate because he can’t handle the idea of breaking someone in—and, too, he thinks Irene will return if he waits her out.
Without a mate, he often can’t pick Maia up from school so he leans on Julie Judge more than he should. He feels like he’s losing his grip on where Maia goes, how she spends her days. Well, she needs food on the table. And she likes to be able to order new clothes from Amazon. Her bath-bomb business seems to have stalled; something new has her attention. Boys, probably.
One night over dinner—it’s not even Candi’s, it’s leftover Candi’s, that’s how sorry a state Huck is in—he says, “Maybe you could make some extra money babysitting for Floyd.”
“Floyd has plenty of babysitters now,” Maia says. “Irene is there. And Cash moved in too.”
“Cash moved in?” Huck says. “I thought he was living over in Peter Bay with what’s her name.”
“Tilda,” Maia says. “They broke up. Tilda is dating some super-rich guy who bought Lovango Cay. Tilda’s parents are building an eco-resort there.”
Yes, Huck has heard whisperings about this around town. A resort on Lovango will bring in some high-end clientele, which everyone is excited about. It means more potential fishing clients. Huck would be excited too if he could only summon the energy. “How do you know all this?” Huck asks.
“Ayers,” Maia says. She finishes her coleslaw and eyes Huck as she sets down her fork. “If I tell you something, can you keep it a secret?”
All he can think is that she’s going to tell him something about Irene—she bought a boat, she signed on with rival fishing boat What a Catch!, she’s moving back to the States. “I can, yes,” he says.
“Ayers is pregnant!” Maia says. “With Baker’s baby!”
Huck would have said he was too old and jaded for anything to bowl him over, but Maia just proved him wrong. He thinks back to the last time he saw Ayers—when she gave him the diaries. She looked…peaked. To say the least. “You’re kidding.”
“Nope. She told me the other day.”
“And Baker is the father? Baker, not Mick?”
“Isn’t that crazy?” Maia says. She lifts a rib off Huck’s plate that he didn’t have any appetite for. “Their baby will be my niece or nephew. And if Ayers and Baker get married…” Maia’s eyes light up. “Ayers will be my sister-in-law! We’ll all be related!”
Huck wonders if Irene knows. She must. What the hell does she think about that? Well, there is one silver lining: Irene Steele isn’t going anywhere with a new grandbaby on the way.
The next morning, Huck sees Irene pull into the Gifft Hill School parking lot to drop off Floyd. Even the sight of her—chestnut braid, white scoop-neck T-shirt, the blocky sunglasses that look like what an elderly person with cataracts wears—addles Huck.
“Irene!” he calls out through his open window. He wants to talk to her about Ayers and Baker, a baby coming, her new grandchild. Forget the FBI and Russ and the diaries—the pregnancy is good news, beautiful news.
He catches Irene by surprise. She glances over, sees it’s him, and, without missing a beat, throws Baker’s Jeep in reverse, backs out of the lot, and goes screaming down Gifft Hill, which is in the opposite direction of her house. She must really want to get away from him.
After dinner that evening, Huck smokes two cigarettes in rapid succession on the deck. He passes through the kitchen, then hits reverse, pulls the Flor de Caña off the shelf, does a shot, then a second shot. He checks on Maia. She’s at her desk studying, not on her phone, a small miracle.
“I’m going to read for a bit, Nut,” he says. “Good night.”
He goes into his bedroom and sits at his desk, which is where he keeps his laptop and a paper calendar listing all his charters as well as files for bills and boat maintenance. He pulls a piece of paper from the tray of his printer, finds a pen that works, and thinks, Here goes nothing.
He writes a letter to Irene. He doesn’t worry about his spelling or
