Page 6 of A Shore Fling

TRAVIS

I ’ve barely stepped inside the harbor office, and I already want to strangle David.

He’s sitting at my desk, eating a taco over the incident report log as if it’s part of our standard procedures.

He makes a smacking sound as he licks the remnants from his fingers.

Then he has the gall to turn the page with his wet fingertips.

“David!”

He looks up and smiles. “Hey, Trav.”

“Trav?” I’ve never permitted him to call me by my nickname. It hints at a closeness we don’t share and never will.

“I meant Travis. Boy, you had an exciting last hour,” he tells me, utterly clueless as to his level of unprofessionalism, never mind the dangerous advice he gave to Nina.

I snatch the log book from him, brushing the pages clean before closing it. “You told a first-time boat operator that if she could drive a car, driving a Sea Ray SPX 190 would be easy.”

He blinks slowly. “It’s only twenty-one feet long.”

“She beached it on the shoals an hour after stepping off an airplane.”

He makes a noncommittal face, like it could be some extraordinary natural occurrence, and says, “That stretch of water is tricky.”

“David.”

“The tides have been weird for a week now.”

I stare pointedly at him.

He swallows and shifts in my chair. “She asked important questions. She listened to what I said.”

“Did you make sure she had directions to her rental?”

“No.”

“Did you quiz her on tide charts?”

“No.”

“You never should’ve let her take the boat out alone the first time.”

He pushes his glasses up his nose. “But that’s up to the homeowners and the rental agency.”

“What if she ran someone over or crashed into another boat? Would you be able to live with yourself, knowing you could’ve prevented it from happening but didn’t?”

He takes a few seconds to think it over, then nods. “Yeah. I don’t think it would be my fault.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose, willing myself to calm down. “You would have culpability too.”

He laughs. “That’s okay. I don’t even know what that means.”

Take a deep breath, and don’t strangle him.

“No, it’s not okay. And culpability means you would share in the blame.” He opens his mouth to argue, and I quickly finish. “Which means you’d lose your job.”

How do you like them apples?

His bushy eyebrows lower in a frown. “I would?”

“Yes, you would. So what are you going to do the next time a situation like this happens?”

“Call you?”

“Sure. You can call me. But if I’m unavailable, you do not give them the keys, and you inform them they cannot drive a boat without having a lesson.

I’m going to contact the agency and remind them they’re supposed to have someone here to take their renters out for their first ride.

It’s certainly not our job to do so. Now, get out of my seat so I can finish up. ”

He rolls the chair back and jumps to his feet. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him move that fast. Could it have been the mention of losing his job? Maybe I should make that threat more often.

I drop into my chair and start filling out the incident report.

“So is she okay?” David interrupts.

“Yeah, she’s fine.” I jot down the rest of the information in the usual shorthand, noting the time, tide, coordinates, and Perkins Marine towing the Sea Ray.

“She was pretty,” David says.

“Huh?” I look up from the report.

He grins. “She sure was pretty.”

“Like a soaked, sunburnt castaway,” I say, returning my focus to the paper in front of me.

“A pretty one, though,” he adds as he gathers his things and then leaves.

He had to get the last word in. And he wasn’t wrong about Nina. But she’s still a disaster—albeit an attractive one.

I flip through the logbook, ensuring every entry is accurate and legible.

I’m sure many harbormasters use computer programs to track their data, but not me.

This might be a quaint beach town, but most of the residents are hardworking middle-class folks.

We don’t have the budget for unnecessary extras.

And unfortunately, things that could simplify my job will never be an option.

But that’s okay. Havenport is part of who I am, right down to my marrow.

I wouldn’t want to live anywhere else, and I love what I do, even during the chaotic summer months.

After a final read through of the report, I file it away and shut everything off.

I lock the door behind me and then pause, taking in the peak sunset colors.

Shades of pink and purple sweep across the sky like they’ve been painted with a massive brush.

As long as I live, I’ll never tire of this view.

It still has the power to steal my breath.

And tonight is one of those times. It’s like a balm for my soul.

Tourists busily snap pictures with their phones and cameras, trying to capture each moment, every shift of color.

What they don’t understand is that standing here quietly absorbing each second is far superior and more beneficial to my peace of mind than any picture could ever be.

I want to shout at them to put down their phones and be present.

The memories will stay with them long after they leave Havenport.

Besides, there’s no existing camera that can accurately capture these colors.

When the sky finally begins to darken, I get in my truck to start the short drive home, and decide to swing past The Rock Lobster house.

I should make sure Nina didn’t have a mishap en route.

But to my surprise, I don’t encounter her on the way.

The lights are on inside the house, telling me she made it in one piece.

I’m impressed at the distance she walked while carrying her heavy bags. And up a big hill too. Good for her.

Maybe she won’t be as disastrous as I’ve been imagining.