Page 6 of Chasing Sunsets

I head inside to grab my clothes, a towel, and the plastic basket that holds my flip-flops and bath products before going to the bathhouse for a shower. I want to get there before the other campers start to stir.

After my shower, I stop by to enjoy a plate of Freda’s homemade biscuits and gravy before heading to the wharf.

Anson

Today’s schedule is filled with back-to-back charters. Sebastian called to inform us that the ice machine at the office is down, so Parker and I stop to buy bags of ice for the boat’s coolers on our way to the dock.

It’s a beautiful late June day. The air is thick with the telltale signs of summer—hot, humid, and filled with a hint of salt, along with the sweetness of blooming marsh grass. The sky stretches wide and blue, promising an excellent day of fishing on the water.

I love this time of year, when Sandcastle Cove is bustling with visitors. Business is booming, and the beaches are filled with sunbathing beauties. Just a couple of the great perks of living and working on an island.

Parker parks the truck in front of the marina market, and I grab a shopping cart and rush inside. I make my way past the bait-and-tackle section to the ice coolers. I fill the cart with ten bags of ice and start toward the checkout counter at the front of the store when I notice a pair of long, tanned legs. The owner of those legs is bent over, examining a row of pepper plants in thegarden section. I take a moment to admire the view when she picks up one of the containers, stands up, and turns to add it to her cart.

“Tabitha,” I call out, and our eyes meet.

“Yes?” she replies.

“Hi. It’s Anson. Anson Leggett. We met at Sea Goddess Jewelers in town,” I say.

A soft smile crosses her lips, and her eyes light up.

“Yes, I remember you. You’re my hero,” she responds.

“Hero is my official title, but you can just call me Anson,” I tease.

“Okay, Anson.”

“I’m glad to see you again. I thought you’d be gone by now,” I say.

She shrugs. “I decided to stay a little longer.”

“That’s great! Are you still at The Sandspur?” I ask as I eye her gardening supplies.

“Yeah, for now,” she replies.

That’s odd.

“Do you come here often?” I ask.

She glances around the store. “The market? Yes, I come about once a week, whenever I run out of milk or toilet paper. What about you?” she asks playfully.

“Me? I’m here all the time. I’m actually quite close to the checkout lady. I, um, have to check in regularly with Mildred to make sure the grandkids are behaving. We’re best friends.”

She laughs.

“I meant, do you come here to the wharf?” I continue.

“I do. I prefer the selection of vegetable plants here to the ones at the market in town,” she replies, then glances at my cart. “And you must really enjoy your beverages cold.”

“I’m just on my way to work. We have a long day of charters ahead, and we need to keep the catches iced down and the beer cold,” I say.

Her brows furrow in confusion. “I thought you worked at the jewelry store.”

“I do occasionally. My mom owns it, and I help her from time to time, but my main job is here at the marina. I work for Sebby’s Charters. We take folks out on private fishing excursions in the ocean and on the Intracoastal,” I explain.

“That sounds like a cool job,” she says.

“I like it. You should swing by sometime, and I’ll take you out for a boat ride.”

---