Page 6 of Island Girl

“Not bad,” Justin said. “Keep going. We need about thirty more.”

They worked side by side without saying much for a bit. Jimmy Buffett played softly from the speakers, something about cheeseburgers in paradise. Through the window, Merritt could see the water, golden in the late afternoon light. A couple walked along the beach, holding hands, their feet splashing in the shallows.

She thought about what Justin said. Solid ground. That's exactly what she was looking for. Not a vacation, not an escape. Just a place to stand still for a while and figure out who she was supposed to be.

“Can I ask you something?” she said.

“Sure.”

“Why are you here? You said people leave because the island's small and far from everything. But you're still here.”

Justin didn't answer right away. He finished slicing his lime and reached for another. “My grandfather needed me. My grandmother passed away about twelve years ago. He ran this place alone for a long time after that. Then my mother got sick.”

Merritt looked up. “I'm sorry.”

“Cancer. Ovarian. It was fast, which was a blessing and a curse.” He kept his eyes on the cutting board. “She died two yearsago. After that, I took a hard look at my life. I was working in Boston, making good money, hating every minute of it. My grandfather was down here, alone, trying to run a bar by himself. Didn't take long to figure out where I was supposed to be.”

“So you moved here.”

“Quit my job, packed my car, and drove south. Sound familiar?”

Merritt smiled. “A little.”

“We're all running from something or toward something. Sometimes both at the same time.” He looked at her. “The trick is figuring out which one matters more.”

Crocker appeared in the doorway, wiping his hands on a rag. Clay dust covered his forearms. “You two going to slice limes all night or are we opening this place?”

Justin grinned. “We're opening. Merritt's getting the tour.”

Crocker looked at her, those sharp eyes taking her in. “You settling in okay up there?”

“Yes, sir. It's perfect.”

“It's small.”

“It's home. That's what matters.”

Something shifted in his face. Not quite a smile, but close. “Good answer.” He nodded toward the deck. “Tables need wiping down. You know how to wipe a table?”

“I think I can figure it out.”

“Then grab a rag and get to it. Happy hour starts in twenty minutes.”

Merritt set down her knife and grabbed a clean towel from under the bar. She headed out to the deck, where the tables sat empty, waiting for the evening crowd. The sun was lower now, casting long shadows across the weathered wood. A pelican perched on the railing, watching her with one skeptical eye.

She wiped down the first table, then the next. The towel smelled like lemons and something else, maybe vinegar. The wood was warm under her hands, smooth from years of use.

Behind her, she heard Justin and Crocker talking in low voices. She couldn't make out the words, but the tone was easy, familiar. The sound of family.

She finished the tables and stood for a moment, looking out at the water. The Gulf stretched all the way to the horizon, flat and glittering. Somewhere out there, dolphins were probably swimming. She'd have to look for them later.

The front door opened and a group of tourists spilled in, laughing and sunburned, wearing swimsuits and cover-ups. Justin appeared beside her with a stack of menus.

“And that's your cue. Follow me. I'll show you how we do things around here.”

Merritt tucked the towel into her back pocket and followed him inside. Her first shift had officially begun.

The next few hours were a blur.