Page 3 of Island Girl

“The one and only.” He extended his hand and she shook it. “Welcome to Shorebirds. How was the drive?”

“Long. But worth it.”

“That's what everyone says.” He tossed the towel over his shoulder. “You hungry? Thirsty? I promised you a cold drink.”

“Water would be great, actually.”

“Coming right up.” He walked back behind the bar and grabbed a glass. “So, what do you think of the place?”

Merritt looked around again. The ceiling was strung with white lights. Old photographs hung on the walls, black and white shots of fishing boats and families on the beach. The whole place felt like it had stories to tell.

“It's perfect,” she said. “It looks like it's been here forever.”

“About forty years, give or take. My grandfather built it with his own hands.” Justin set the glass of water in front of her. “Well, he built it with my grandmother. She was the brains behind the operation. He just did the heavy lifting.”

“And the pottery?”

Justin grinned. “That's all him. He's a potter. Has been since he was a teenager. You'll meet him in a minute. He's out back working on something.”

Merritt picked up one of the small bowls near the register. It was smooth and heavy in her hand, glazed a deep blue that reminded her of the water outside. “These are beautiful.”

“Don't tell him that. His head's big enough already.”

A voice came from the back hallway. “I heard that.”

An older man appeared in the doorway. He was tall and lean, with silver hair and a face that looked like it had seen a lot of sun. He wore a faded T-shirt and an apron with clay stains on the front and moved with a quiet confidence and friendly smile.

“Grandpa, this is Merritt. Merritt, this is Crocker.”

Merritt set the bowl down and extended her hand. “It's nice to meet you. Justin told me you built this place.”

Crocker's handshake was firm but gentle. His eyes studied her for a moment, and she had the feeling he was seeing more than she intended to show.

“Built it with my wife,” he said. “She named it Shorebirds. After the sandpipers.”

“I love sandpipers.”

“Then you'll fit in just fine.” He nodded once, then looked at Justin. “You going to show her the apartment or just stand there talking all day?”

Justin laughed. “I was getting to it.”

“Get to it faster. I need you back down here in twenty minutes. Happy hour's coming.”

Crocker turned his attention back to Merritt. “Welcome to Sanibel, Merritt.”

She smiled and nodded. “Thank you so much.”

He turned and walked back the way he came. Merritt watched him go.

“He doesn't say much,” Justin said. “But when he does, it's usually worth hearing.”

“I like him.”

“Everybody does. Come on, I'll show you upstairs.”

He led her through a door at the back of the bar and up a narrow staircase. The steps creaked under their feet. At the top, he unlocked a door and pushed it open.

The apartment was small but clean. A single room with a bed against one wall, a tiny kitchen along another, and a bathroom through a door in the corner. A window looked out over the parking lot, and another faced the water.