Made with vanilla ice cream or chocolate?
The mans New England accent was thick, the words flattened out until Ronan could barely understand. Vanilla, Ronan said.
He grabbed a menu from the rack in front of him and perused the prices. They served soda fountain treats and sandwiches for lunch, but hed have to find another spot for breakfast and dinner. Im looking for a place to stay, Ronan said. Something cheap. Can you suggest anything?
Well, its still high season around here, but there are a few boarding houses in town that you could try. Mrs. Morey has a place over on Second Street and Miss Harrington has a few rooms in her house on Whitney. Theyre pretty fussy about who they rent to. No funny business, if you get my drift.
Do you know how much they charge? Ronan asked.
The old man considered the question for a long moment as he prepared the malt. Cant say that I do.
Im also looking for a job, Ronan said.
Theres a board over at the visitors center, he said. Theres always someone looking for help. Theyll help you find a room, too, if you ask Maxine. Shes usually behind the desk.
He placed the malt in front of Ronan. The old fountain glass was filled to the brim, then topped with whipped cream and a cherry. Thatll be three-ninety-five, he said.
Ronan pulled out his wallet and laid a five on the counter. Keep the change, he said.
Ronan lingered over the malt, watching as customers came and went, getting a feel for the locals. Everyone in town seemed pretty friendly. There was a certain civility in their manner that hed never seen in big city residents. Maybe it was because they all knew each other that they went out of their way to greet each other with a friendly hello or a short conversation.
When he finished his malt, Ronan grabbed his duffel and headed out to the visitors center. The converted railroad station was home to the local merchants association as well as the tourist office. He went to the job board and scanned the opportunities. There were jobs in restaurants and motels, a job at the local library and one at the marina.
A job at a local oyster farm caught his eye. He glanced around, then pulled the card from the board and tucked it in his pocket. He loved oysters and farming meant that hed be spending his time outdoors. He couldnt think of a better combination.
Ronan walked over to the hospitality counter and gave the elderly woman sitting behind it a quick smile. Are you Maxine?
She nodded. I am.
Im looking for a room. Im going to be in town for six weeks. It needs to be cheap. I dont have a lot of money.
We have a couple of boarding houses in town, she said. And Isiah Crawford rents out a few of his motel rooms on a monthly basis. Let me try Mrs. Morey first.
The woman dialed a number. Hello, Elvira. Its Maxine down at the Visitors Center. I have a young man down here looking for a room. Do you have anything available? She paused. Wonderful. How much? She scribbled something on her pad, then glanced up at Ronan. Whats your name?
Ronan Quinn?
Maxines eyes went wide for a moment, then she cleared her throat. Yes, Elvira, you heard that right. Well, Im sure hell understand. If you forgot, you forgot.
Maxine hung up the phone and smiled apologetically. It seems that she doesnt have a room after all. Some big group coming in.
Could you try the other boarding house? he asked.
II dont think Tillie has anything available either. I just saw her at church this morning and sheshe would have mentioned it. Maybe you could try across the river in Newcastle?
Ronan had the distinct impression that he was getting the runaround. Why were these people suddenly unwilling to rent to him? Maybe you could try the motel?
With a reluctant smile, she dialed the phone. Hi there, Josiah. Its Maxine over at the Visitors Center. I have a young man here named Ronan Quinn and hes looking for ayes, thats what I said. Hes looking for a room. Well, thats a shame. All right. You, too, Josiah.
She hung up the phone again and shrugged. He doesnt have any vacancies either. Newcastle really is your best option. Its just over the bridge.
I need to stay here, in Sibleyville, he said. Ronan picked up his duffel bag. Never mind, Ill find a place on my own.
Maxine forced a smile. Can I offer you a bit of advice? Dont give them your name. In fact, use a different name entirely. But dont dare tell anyone I gave you this advice. Run along now.
With a soft curse, Ronan walked outside, keeping his temper in check. What the hell was going on here? Did the town have something against the Irish? Or was it just because he was a single guy? From what he could tell, the town thrived on tourism so it didnt make sense theyd turn anyone away. If hed thought Sibleyville looked like a friendly place at first glance, hed been sadly mistaken.
He looked down at the card he held. Mistry Bay Oyster Farm. Contact Charlie Sibley. Would a potential employer feel the same? Especially one named after this very village? For now, hed keep his name to himself until he knew for sure.
Maybe living a different life is going to be more difficult than I thought it would be, he muttered.
YOU NEED TO scrape harder than that, Charlotte Sibley said, running her hand over the rough hull of the skiff. All this old paint has to come off. If you paint on top of it, it wont stick.
Her fourteen-year-old brother, Garrett, looked up from the task shed given him and rolled his eyes. I know what Im doing.
Of course you do. Youre just not doing a very good job of it. Youve been bugging Dad to let you work the boats on your own but youre not willing to put in the effort that comes with it. She ruffled his hair. Come on, princess, put some muscle into it. Were going to need that skiff this season.
Who made you the boss of me? Youre not the boss of me, Charlie. Dad is.
And if you havent noticed, Einstein, Dad is laid up with a bad back. His doctor says he cant work for at least a month or two. He made me the boss of things, so that makes me the boss of you, too.
Garrett muttered something beneath his breath and went back to work. Charlotte smiled to herself. Now that shed been put in charge of the Mistry Bay oyster farm, it had been a bit of a rocky ascension from worker to boss. Charlie knew the business from top to bottom, after working it for years with her family. And six years away hadnt been long enough to forget the ropes. But being in charge meant that shed had to rein in the members of the Sibley clan who preferred malingering to hard work.
A knock sounded on the door of the boathouse and Charlotte strode over to the door. Shed been expecting a visit from an up and coming chef from Boston who was visiting the area. Chef Joel Bellingham had already made a name for himself in Boston with one highly rated restaurant and would soon be opening a seconda seafood place that might feature Mistry Bay oysters.
She yanked the door open, but her greeting died in her throat as she came face-to-face with an impossibly handsome man, not much older than she was. He watched her with pale blue eyes, as she tried to regain her breath, his gaze holding hers. Charlie swallowed hard, then cleared her throat. Hello! Come on in. I hope you didnt have any trouble finding the place. Shed met Bellingham over the phone earlier that morning and had somehow gotten the impression he was much older. This guy could be thirty, tops.
There was a sign above the door, he said, glancing around.
They stood there for an uncomfortable moment before Charlie could shake herself into action. How was your trip? she asked. The traffic on Highway 1 can be really bad on the weekends.
It was fine.
He was a man of few words. Charlie felt a stab of disappointment. He obviously wasnt interested in chatting with her. And usually she was so good with customers. But this guy, though stunningly handsome, didnt have much of a personality. Let me show you around.
The waterfront building served multiple purposes for the family business. Charlie pointed out the shop area where they repaired equipment and boat engines. Housed in the other half of the lower floor was the shipping area, where workers cleaned and sorted oysters before they were boxed to be sent all over the east coast and beyond. As Charlie rattled off her talking points, she realized she wasnt even listening to herself. He stood beside her, nodding politely.
The second floor housed the business offices and a small apartment Charlotte sometimes used when she needed to get away from the craziness at her parents house. It also included a finely appointed tasting room, modeled after a gourmet kitchen, where they often entertained visitors interested in featuring Mistry Bay oysters at their restaurants or seafood counters. The room overlooked the river and was the perfect setting to talk oysters.
Mistry Bay is a family business, she said as they walked up the stairs. Weve had the oyster farm for nearly twenty years and we think we have some of the best oysters on the east coast. But Im a bit prejudiced. She drew a ragged breath. Why dont we taste some oysters.
He walked beside her into the tasting room and she couldnt help but notice how tall and well built he was, dressed in cargo shorts and a T-shirt that hugged his muscular chest. He hadnt shaved in a few days, but the stubble made him look slightly dangerous. He was like the kind of guy who wore his sex appeal with a casual indifference, as if he didnt care if women noticed him.
Since shed left Danny in New York over a year ago, Charlotte hadnt found herself attracted to any man. In truth, shed written off men completely. As long as she was living in Sibleyville, romance was an exercise in futility anyway. But she wasnt averse to indulging in a little fantasy every now and then and Chef Joel Bellingham provided plenty of raw material.
She pointed to a stool at the granite-topped counter then moved to the other side of it to retrieve a bowl of freshly harvested oysters from the refrigerator. As she stood across from him, she laid a folded towel on the counter and grabbed an oyster. Charlotte felt him watching her. She was almost worried to look up, afraid that hed be able to read her thoughts.
She held the oyster with another towel and popped the shell open at the hinge. After carefully slicing the meat from the shell, she placed the fresh oyster on a Mistry Bay oyster plate, preserving the liquid in the shell. Lemon? she asked.
No, he said. I like them plain.
Can I offer you a pairing? We have champagne, muscadet and ice-cold vodka. All three really enhance the taste of our oysters. Not all together, of course. Each one separately.
Its eleven in the morning, he said.
Right.
He regarded her warily. Champagne would be good. If youre going to join me.
She found a split of bubbly in the fridge, popped it open and poured it into two flutes. Drawing a deep breath, she went into her business pitch as she continued to open oysters. We ship from September through June and use overnight delivery. That means you can have fresh oysters Tuesday through Saturday mornings. We harvest early in the morning and ship that afternoon.
Charlotte continued to shuck oysters and place them on the plate, describing the attributes of the Mistry Bay oyster in sensual terms. They were plump and juicy, briny and sweet. Usually a half dozen on the half-shell satisfied most customers, but Chef Joel seemed to be particularly hungry.
When she wasnt talking, she was nervously sipping champagne, trying to keep herself from spinning right out of the room. He finally held up his hand at a dozen, then drew a deep breath. They were really good. Thanks.
Really good? Usually her oysters received more than a good. Exquisite, delicate, satisfying, better than sex. Really good wasnt that good at all. Do you have any questions? she asked.
Just one. Does this mean I have the job?
She sent him a quizzical look. Job? II dont understand.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out an index card, then held it out to her. I found this over at the visitors center. It said you were looking for help?
A gasp slipped from her throat. Wait a second. Youre not Chef Joel from Boston?
Nope. Im Ronan. Ronan Smith from Seattle. I dont mind working hard. Ill be here early and stay late. You tell me to do something and itll be done. He gazed at her silently.
Charlie felt a shiver skitter down her spine and she had to force herself to look away. She cleared her throat. You ate a dozen oysters, she said. Did you think that was part of the interview?
I just thought you were showing me the product. And I was hungry.
She really couldnt blame him for the mix-up. Shed been caught off guard from the moment she set eyes on him. The fluttery feeling in her stomach and the buzzing in her head had made it impossible to think clearly. Maybe if shed had her wits about her, she might have seen his confusion sooner.
So, do I have the job? he asked again.
Come with me, Charlotte said. She had just posted the job yesterday. Considering the other employment opportunities available, she hadnt expected such a quick response. Nor such an interesting prospect. But here was guy who set her heart racing and she had a perfectly good reason to keep him around a little longer.
The job is hard, with long hours. The pay isnt great, but with the hours you work, you should make a decent living. Are you going to have a problem with that?
Nope, he said as he followed her downstairs.
She led him over to the inverted skiff. This is my brother, Garrett. Garrett, this is Ronan Smith. Hes interviewing for the job. Give him your scraper.
No problem, Garrett said, handing Ronan the paint scraper. Im going home, Charlie.
Charlotte didnt argue this time. She was glad to be rid of her little brother. She certainly didnt need him watching her fall all over herself around the gorgeous new employee. Cut the lawn when you get home. You know Dad cant do it and Mom is too busy.
Yeah, yeah, Garrett said.
Teenagers, she murmured as they watched Garrett walk out the door. When she turned back to Ronan, she caught him staring, his blue eyes direct and intense.
Youre Charlie? he asked. Youre the boss?
Yes. Charlotte. Charlie. Sibley.
I was expecting a man.
And I was expecting a chef, she countered.
What do you want me to call you?
She caught a look in his eyes that appeared to be amusement. Was he just toying with her? Or had she completely lost control of this interview. You dont have the job yet. She picked up the paint scraper and safety glasses and handed them to him. If you want the job, show me what you can do with this scraper first.