Contents ( 66)
- Cover
- Books by Valerie Fraser Luesse
- Title Page
- Copyright Page
- Dedication
- Contents
- Map of Florida
- one
- two
- three
- four
- five
- six
- seven
- eight
- nine
- ten
- eleven
- twelve
- thirteen
- fourteen
- fifteen
- sixteen
- seventeen
- eighteen
- nineteen
- twenty
- twenty-one
- twenty-two
- twenty-three
- twenty-four
- twenty-five
- twenty-six
- twenty-seven
- twenty-eight
- twenty-nine
- thirty
- thirty-one
- thirty-two
- thirty-three
- thirty-four
- thirty-five
- thirty-six
- thirty-seven
- thirty-eight
- thirty-nine
- forty
- forty-one
- forty-two
- forty-three
- forty-four
- forty-five
- forty-six
- forty-seven
- forty-eight
- forty-nine
- fifty
- fifty-one
- Epilogue
- Keep Reading for a Preview of Valerie Luesse’s Next Book!
- Prologue
- one
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
- Back Ads
- Back Cover
By the time they arrived, Peyton had learned that Finn was born and raised in Alabama, was a breech baby who nearly killed his mother, married three times and divorced three times, served in the Navy during World War I, liked rum, drank too much of it (the cause of an unfortunate tattoo on his right shoulder), once landed a two-hundred-pound blue marlin without dropping his cigarette, wondered how magicians make people disappear in those trick boxes, had never voted, was a Pisces (“ain’t that a coincidence”), and hated coconut.
Also, he had met Aunt Gert at a VFW dance. She was serving the punch that he was attempting to spike. She told him rum was made for dive bars and fishing boats, and if he knew what was good for him, he’d take his flask and hightail it to one or the other. They had been friends ever since. Early on, he said, he tried to kiss her—but only once. She whacked him with her sun hat and told him there would be none of that nonsense, so he’d just as well get it out of his head.
“Yessiree, Gert says the loss of her late husband, rest his soul, is still so fresh, she’d feel like she was cheatin’ on him if she took a shine to another man,” Finn said, shaking his head.
“When did he die?” Peyton asked.
“Summer of ’21.” Finn shifted the truck into neutral and let it idle. “We’ll leave your suitcase on her porch. She ain’t here at the moment. The two o’ you’ll likely walk home from the dock, and I doubt you’d want to be a-totin’ your grip all the way.”
Finn unloaded the suitcase and then drove them to a marina just across the harbor. He led Peyton down a long dock, past fishing boats and trawlers, to a stunner of a wooden runabout named Madame Queen.
“Well, here we are,” Finn said. “Peyton, my friend, meet the Madame. She usually stays at Gert’s dock on the San Sebastian, but we figured it’d be easier for you here, it bein’ your first acquaintance and all. Been a pleasure meetin’ you. I reckon I’ll see you around Gert’s.” He shook Peyton’s hand and started to walk away.
“Hey, Finn, wait a minute!” Peyton called after him. “Where is she?”
“See that bend in the river down yonder?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Go just past it, and you’ll see Cap’n Davy’s Seafood on your right. There’s a dock there where you can tie up, and Gert’ll come down to meet you. Likely waitin’ there for you right now.”
“You mean she wants me to drive this boat down there?”
“It’s a mighty long way to swim.”
“But I’ve never driven a boat like this.”
“Ever drive a car?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Same thing—or just about. Untie ’er, push the starter, and ease back on the throttle—see it right yonder? Madame Queen’ll get you where you’re goin’. Been a pleasure!”
With that, Finn was gone, leaving Peyton to scan the dock. All the boats were bobbing in their slips, but there wasn’t a person in sight. Already he was wondering if Aunt Gert had lost her marbles.