The ocean breeze brought fresh, salty air, and Trevor couldn’t understand his hesitation. “You mean peaceful, sunny, warm, and a quiet opportunity to reflect?”
Dustin grabbed a rope and tied a bowline like Trevor had taught him. He didn’t want to tell Dustin they needed a figure eight stopper knot instead. “You have your breakdown. I’ll keep my life going in Seattle until you return.”
Trevor halted his work and sighed. “You still think this is a phase, don’t you?”
He shrugged. “I can hope.”
And he knew Dustin did wish that Trevor would come to his senses and return to Seattle, but there was no way he’d give up on his lifelong dream of living on the ocean and running boats for a living. Okay, he was on the waterway to the ocean, but close enough. Nothing would agitate him enough to give up on his new charter company.
After a few hours of removing the engine and working on disassembling parts, carefully labeling and laying out the pieces on blankets, Dustin convinced Trevor to take a break for lunch. Despite the sun shield they worked under, the heat left them exhausted and in need of a break. Lunch didn’t take long, but Trevor found himself dozing in the chair, and before he realized it, an hour had passed.
He shot up from his chair, determined to figure out the issue and put the engine back together by the end of the day.
Dustin peeled himself off the couch and hobbled toward the door. “You owe me a night out when we’re done.” He opened the glass sliding door and halted, standing stone still, looking out toward the ocean, which obviously frightened him.
Trevor laughed. “You know a shark can’t sprout legs and walk up on land, right?”
“I don’t think sharks are the problem.” Dustin stepped aside. “Do you have large rats that steal engine parts?”
Trevor shot through the glass sliding door, catching his knuckles on the edge, sending a sharp pain deep into his hand. Outside, he spotted a long, thin, furry creature that looked like a weasel. It stood on its hind legs, held up a bolt from his engine, and if Trevor didn’t know better, he’d swear the creature smiled at him and then took off with the piece held in his teeth. “Get him.”
They both tore through the sandy grass sprouts and over to the side yard. The weasel raced toward a pipe. Trevor dove to catch it, hoping it didn’t have rabies, but all he grasped was air between his hands and sand between his teeth before the creature disappeared into the pipe. He spit the grains from his mouth and scurried to his feet, kicking sand up at a protesting Dustin.
He pointed ahead. “It goes that way.”
Trevor kicked off his flip-flops to get more speed and raced down the beach to a road that dead-ended onto a small beach. He hung a left. His feet pounded against the abrasive, searing asphalt, burning the soles of his feet and cutting his flesh.
“I don’t think it’s a pipe. It looks like a PVC wood, and wire mesh man-made tunnel,” Dustin shouted.
The weasel stuck its nose through some of the mesh, as if to make sure they saw him, and then took off again. Was the creature mocking him?
An old lady sat rocking on her porch with a man using a cane standing by her side. She pointed at Trevor, and the man pounded his cane against the old wooden decking and laughed. Trevor waved at them, and they reciprocated.
“That shop there. It ran through the side of the building.” Dustin took off, and Trevor followed on his heels, jumping around with each jagged shell or rock piece that gouged into his skin, knowing he was putting a show on for the residents.
Hopefully he’d hit the bottom of that ocean pit that Dustin said he’d dug for himself. At this point, he believed his friend was right. What else could happen? Nothing could top a stealing, mocking weasel-like creature that stole a part to an engine he couldn’t fix to run a boat he didn’t have any customers to sail off into the sunset.
Chapter Three
Julie straightened the old merchandise that screamed tourist junk and thought about making a few changes to the store. Maybe Bri was right. Perhaps it was time to find herself again, if for no other reason than to show everyone she was fine. That way, Bri could return to her own life instead of coming home to look after her mother. She didn’t need her old high school friends to come rescue her, either.
How pathetic they must think she was, receiving a message to return for some over-thirty-year-old teenage vow. She tried to shove off her mood, but the idea of facing her friends and their sympathy didn’t cheer her up the way her daughter had probably planned. A friendervention was the last thing she needed.
Houdini shot through the side door, up the plank ramp, and into the hole he always hid in when he was naughty. “What have you done?” She abandoned the display and stood below the opening to his hideout, waiting for his little nose to pop out. “Houdini. I know you did something. Come out here now so we can make it right.”
His pink nose sniffed over the wooden shelf-turned-walkway and his whiskers twitched.
“Show me.”
He scooted out of his hole and stood on his hind legs, holding up some rusty old screw.
“Be careful with that. It looks old. You could cut yourself.” She figured it was some piece of trash, so she didn’t worry about it. “You want to go for a walk to the beach? I could use some fresh air.”
Houdini abandoned the part on the shelf and skittered down the platform, but instead of snagging his leash, he went over to the art station Bri had set
