Page 6 of SEAL’S Baby Surprise (Lanes #2)

LEE

My brothers say that I’m a complete airhead when it comes to money. But even I know that it has to come from somewhere. I don’t want to be a burden on him, and I know that if I’m going to get anywhere, I need to do so on my own.

So, I ask Austin if there’s somewhere I can sell my strings of pearls and diamonds, or pawn them or something.

Austin is making pancakes for breakfast, and the neighborhood twins, Betty and Bobby, have invited themselves to share our meal.

Bobby says, “My mom always takes her sewing machine to the pawn shop up on the square when we run out of milk between paydays. Dad says she shouldn’t do it, cause it always costs us an extra five bucks to get it back.”

“Why does she need the sewing machine?” I ask.

“Cause Bobby’s always ripping the seat out of his britches,” Betty tattles on her brother.

“I ain’t any harder on my britches than you are,” Bobby grumbles at his sister. “At least I didn’t try to use a board for a slip-and-slide and wear the whole seat out of them.”

Betty sticks her tongue out at Bobby. Bobby one-ups the face right back at her by not only sticking out his tongue, but also putting his thumbs in his ears, using his index fingers to pull his eyes into ugly slits, while wiggling his remaining fingers in the air.

That makes Julia giggle.

Austin scoops pancakes off the grill and puts two each on five paper plates, and hands three of them to the kids. “Your choice sausage or bacon,” he says pointing at the condiment table.

“I thought syrup went with pancakes?” I say, feeling a little bewildered.

“You do it like this,” Julia says, picking up a sausage and tucking it in a fold of pancake. “You can have syrup on it if you want to. I like it that way, but it can be really messy. “

“Only if you douse it in a gallon of syrup,” Austin reproves her. “Lee can have her pancakes however she likes them.”

That seems like a sensible idea to me, so I have my cakes with a little syrup and some bacon on the side and eat them with a fork. There is a choice of milk or orange juice in little cartons.

After they scarf down their breakfasts, the kids all run three vans down the way, and are met by a grandmotherly woman in a blue, wraparound apron.

Austin watches them go, then waves to her and she waves back. She and the kids go around her van and disappear.

“Where are they going?” I ask.

“Mother Hubbard’s homeschool,” he replies. “Mrs. Hubbard watches van kids during the day so their parents can have some time to get things done. Would you like to walk over to the square and see what the guy there would give you for some of your things?”

“I would like that very much,” I say. “That way I can pay my share of things.” I’m still not quite sure where I’m going to go from here, but I know that I owe Austin for helping me, and feeding me, and being so nice to me.

“I’m not too worried about that,” Austin says. “But it’s always nice to have a little cash on hand in case you want an ice cream or something.”

Ugh. He’s so nice, it’s ridiculous. He’s being very cool about this, but I also know that nothing is free, and I’ve been eating his food for a couple of days.

I finish my pancakes and give my plate and fork to Austin.

Austin lifts his eyebrows at me, then opens the trash can and dumps the disposable utensils into it.

“Take me to the man who sells the things,” I announce.

Austin gives me a little smile. “This way, milady.”

There is a nice sidewalk from the van up to the little village. We walk along it, enjoying the nice breeze that blows in off the ocean.

When we get to the top of the beach there’s a neat little sign that says, “Freedom Beach — Vans, RVs and Tiny Houses welcome.” Below the sign is a coffee can that is labeled, “Spare change. Put some in if you’ve got any, take some out if you need it.”

“Won’t people steal that?” I ask. I know that I’m not a thief, but that doesn’t mean anyone else is.

“So, what if they do take it,” Austin said. “It’s put in what you don’t need and take out what you do need.” He drops in two quarters by way of demonstration. “Used to be, the kids could buy an ice cream or snow cone for that. But it will take a few more bits to make even a cup of ice.”

“Are things so awfully expensive?” I ask. I couldn’t remember ever having to scrounge up change. But then, I had never before been without my debit and credit cards. You don’t have to worry about the price of a cone if you have unlimited credit. I’ve never really thought about it before.

But I had known when I ran away that if I brought my cards and used them, I could be traced. I’m determined not to be found. No way, no how.

I love my brothers. But I also know that they love me too much to see how tortured I was.

I need to find my own way now.

We find the pawn shop all right. It is like a place of wonders.

There are watches and strings of beads. One corner of it is labeled, “Johnson’s head shop: Legal Dispensary,” and there are all kinds of ways to consume pot, including a pan of brownies that says, “fresh today.” I know recreational pot is legal now, but it is still a little weird to see this stuff openly displayed.

One of my friends had gotten arrested for having stuff in his car, not that many years ago.

Another section has earthenware jugs in a row, and a sign that says, “Totally legal microbrews. Just printed the license myself.” The license is displayed, with a scribbled signature that could have been signed by just about anyone.

There is a corner with worn toys, one filled with musical instruments, displays of cooking pans, glasses, odd silverware and bunches of things I couldn’t even put a name to.

Two men sit behind the counter. One of them is dark-skinned, and has an islander look about him, while the other one has fading red hair that is receding back from his high, florid, forehead yet streams down his back in a riot of curly dreads. Each of them has a cup of something hot.

The islander has a cup that has the letters, “Tea for me,” printed on it, while the other guy has a coffee cup that is labeled: “Coffee, Red hot,” and has a busty female cartoon leprechaun on it.

The dark-skinned guy says, “Hey, Austin. What can I do you out of?”

Austin pulls out a couple of bills and says, “Maybe tickets for the next beach concert, Kai. I found this mermaid on the beach yesterday, and she’s lost her purse. But she has some hair decorations. Can you look at them and see what they are worth?”

Kai takes out a jewelers loop, and says, “I can give it a look, but no guarantees. Today, I’ve already turned down pop beads and a string of fake pearls with the paint peeling off them.”

I reach in my pocket and pull out one of the strings of pearls that had been in my hair. My brother got them for me, so I have no idea what they are worth.

I put them down on the counter, then watch in fascination as the man gently drapes them over a rack, and peers at them intently. “Cultured?” he asks.

I nod.

He says, “What do you think, Mike?”

The red-haired guy says, “You know I hate it when you call me that.”

The dark-skinned guy replies with a huge grin full of white teeth, “That’s why I do it, Michael. So, what do you think?”

Michael leans over and says, “Not as pricey as ocean pearls, but real all the same. We don’t have enough money in the till to pay what they are worth.”

Kai gives a big sigh and pushes the pearls back across the counter to me.

“Sorry, sweetheart, no can do. They’re pretty, but unless you got a certificate to show where you got them, I don’t want them in my safe.

There was a jewelry heist uptown a couple weeks ago, so I got to prove legit ownership on everything. ”

I feel my tummy drop right down into the soles of the flip-flops Austin got for me. “So, what am I going to do? I lost my purse, and it had my ID and everything in it.”

“Go down to the license bureau, or social security office, or call your folks. Whatever you’re running away from, it isn’t bad enough to be arrested for jewel theft.”

“Theft!” I exclaim. “These are mine! My brother got them for me.”

“Then call your brother, tell him where you are, and stick with Austin until he turns up,” Kai says. “You lucked out, little mermaid. Austin’s one of the good guys.”

“I can’t,” I say, “I just can’t. Oh, this is awful.”

“Never mind,” Austin says. “I got plenty of money You see anything in here you like? I’ll get it for you.”

He says it so matter-of-factly. I look around. There are so many things! I pick out a pretty doll I think Julia will like and a coffee mug that says, “I’m Nobody, are you nobody, too?” on it.

Then we walk back down the sidewalk to the van. Julia is still at Mrs. Hubbard’s.

Austin says, “It’s going to be hot soon. Let’s wash that new cup of yours, and you can fill it with ice and cream soda.”

“What’s cream soda?” I ask.

“Just about the best soft drink you’ve ever had,” Austin says. He washes my cup for me, puts in some crushed ice then pours something clear and bubbly over it.

I sip it. It is just about the best stuff ever! It tastes like sweet vanilla, and the bubbles ping up my nose.

“Let’s go inside to drink our sodas,” Austin says. “It’s getting pretty hot out here.”

Inside the van, the air conditioner hums, and it’s nice and cool. “How do you keep this going without running the motor?” I ask.

“Solar panels,” Austin explains. “I got four good ones topside, and a couple extra panels for when it gets really hot, and we start pulling a lot of juice out of the batteries.”

I sip my bubbly drink, then sit on the edge of his bed because there isn’t any place else to sit. He sits down beside me, gets out a tablet and starts pecking away at it.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

He puts the tablet on a little shelf and connects it to a charger. “Work stuff,” he says. “It’s what I usually do while Julia’s at homeschool. It pays the bills.”