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Chapter One

The buzzer sounded, and Samantha Garner looked over her monitor just in time to see her favourites, Larry and Dave, walk through the door. Both in their eighties, they’d known Sam since she was still getting shoulder rides around the marine shop from her dad. When the old duo weren’t down on the marina tinkering with their boats, they’d often pop in for a chat and a browse through the second-hand section.

“Morning!” she greeted them. “What are you both doing in so early today? I thought you’d still be down at the café having coffee?”

“I wish,” Larry said, leaning on the counter. “Butno, Dave wanted to come and get a ball valve to replace his after the whole ‘Benny almost sunk his boat at Twilights last week’ fiasco.”

Ah. They were the sixth customers this week to pop in for the same thing. Nothing like a small emergency to have all the boaties running to Garner Marine. Her dad would be happy with the extra sales at least.

“The race had barely started! And I don’t want that happening to me any time soon,” Dave declared as he walked off toward the valves at the back of the shop.

“And how are you Sam-I-Am?” Larry asked.

“I thought we agreed I’d get a new nickname once I turned thirty?” Sam fixed him with a stare, a smile tugging at her lips. “And that was two years ago!”

“I made no such promises,Samantha,” Larry replied, feigning innocence.

Ugh. Her full name was even worse.

They played this game every time. She loved the banter and relationships she had with all the locals. Sometimes it felt like her days were more of a social catch-up than actual work. She’d grown up around her family’s boat shop—“It’s a chandlery shop!” her dad would say—and had worked there officially since she was sixteen.

Garner Marine sat right at the edge of Karkalla Beach, squeezed between marinas and pristine white sandy beaches. You wouldn’t find any tourists here, though; Adelaide was a quieter city than Melbourne or Sydney, the outer suburbs quieter still.

“Anyway,” she dragged out the word, changing the subject. “You’re lucky the shop’s quiet at the moment. It’s been a busy week with everyone’s last-minute bits and pieces for the Port Mackrell race next weekend. We’ve already run out of offshore flares twice this month!”

Larry let out a low whistle as Dave came up alongside him, plonking the ball valve on the counter with a heavy thud.

“I’ll take two offshore flares as well, please Sam.”

Larry gave him a side-eye.

“What?”

“I thought you already replaced your flares last year?” Larry quizzed.

“No, that was theinshoreflares,” Dave snapped back.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure. It was the day you almost fell overboard trying to clean my damn solar panels for me—the ones thosebloody seagulls love to sh—” He looked at Sam. “Er, poop all over.”

“I’m not a child anymore Dave. You can say ‘shit’ in front of me,” Sam chided.

Larry chuckled as Dave held up his hands in placation.

“Oh yes! Now I remember.” Larry’s eyes lit up as he snapped his fingers. “It wasmyboat we replaced the offshore on.”

With a shake of her head at their squabbling, Sam popped the parachute flares on the counter, tallying up the items up in her head. It was a necessary skill she’d acquired from working at the shop over the years. Her dad, Matt, still ran the shop old school—you either added everything up in your head or wrote it down on paper with a calculator, no POS system in sight. Just the way her dad liked it.

She rang up the amount on the cash register, bagged up Dave’s items and waved the old men out of the shop. She smiled to herself as she watched them out of the window—exclaiming wildly with their hands, no doubt still discussing who had what flares up to date on which boat.

“Sammy, have you ordered more flares? There’s only one pack left, again.” Sam’s dad walked around the bench, standing at the computer behind hers. Pen in mouth, his eyes scanned the pad paper in front of him as he prepared to start sending orders off for the week.

“Yes, Dad. Already sent it off this morning.”

With a short nod, he crossed it off the list. “Good.”

The intercom buzzer sounded between them. Sam got to it first and pressed the button to speak. “Garner Marine, how can I help?”