Page 2 of Hooked

Plus I’m only five feet tall, and I use the extra height to be taken seriously.

“You sell makeup or something?” he asks.

The bags make an ungodly thumping noise as we drag them down the metal ramp to his boat. It’s a small powerboat with two outboard engines.

“No, I’m an event planner,” I shout over the noise. The ocean seems calm, and I’m relieved when we board. The water laps peacefully at the boat’s hull as Oscar ties the bags in the hold.

“All the fancy parties will be up at Chilmark.” Oscar takes a moment to admire his ropework. “You have someone who can take you there?”

I follow him to the boat’s center console and watch as he fiddles with the controls. He glances at me and my shoes again and frowns. The bottom of his boat is soaked. Saltwater and probably fish guts too.

Sia Fitzgerald is always prepared, though, and my shoes are weatherproofed.

“I’m surprising my uncle. He lives in Oak Bluffs. Owns one of the old Victorian mansions and converted it to an inn. I’m going to throw a party and get him lots of great publicity.”

If he’ll let me throw a party, that is. He hasn’t been much for any holidays since his son, my cousin Drew, died of an overdose nearly ten years ago.

And last time I’d visited, he hadn’t exactly been welcoming.

But my cousin Kieran says he’s in a better state of mind, and I want to bring us all together for the holiday. Big, fancy party on the twenty-third with guests from all over the island, and just the family for Christmas.

Perfect.

Oscar grunts as he works and the boat engines roar to life. We’re free of the moorings in minutes, heading southwest to the island.

What if Kieran’s wrong and he’s not happy to see me? What if he still hates me?I shiver.Don’t go there, Sia.

“You cold?” Oscar asks.

He doesn’t miss much.

“No.” I tug my big, blanket-sized scarf more firmly around my shoulders. “It’s just been a while since I’ve visited.”

He grunts again. I’m sure Oscar has seen some things.

For forty-five minutes, I chat with Oscar while we zip through the water. We’re close to the island. Fear and excitement surge through me as the reality of seeing my uncle again sinks in.

But then Oscar straightens up suddenly.

The winds change.

We’ve hit the edge of the storm.

In seconds, wind-driven rain cascades down in torrents. The boat pitches as the waves intensify. We’re fighting to stay upright. I shiver uselessly, staring wide-eyed at Oscar.

I’m soaked through, my pea coat retaining every drop of water—rain and sea together. My scarf chokes me, itchy wet wool glued to my throat, but I can’t let go of the console to fix it.

Oscar grabs for the radio as one of the engines sputters out.

“Mayday, Mayday. This is the Ivy Bay. We’re taking on water. Motor is out. Requesting assistance. Do you copy?”

The radio crackles, but then silence.

“There’s Coast Guard at Menemsha,” Oscar shouts.

The roar of the wind terrifies me. I’ve seen my share of nor’easters, but I’ve never been on the open water for one.

“Life jackets under the seat,” Oscar says through gritted teeth, his hands white-knuckling the steering wheel.

---