Page 14 of Beyond the Stroke

After refilling waters and checking my tables, I head back to the kitchen.

“Order up,” Mick calls.

I wipe the moisture from my hands on the black cotton apron tied around my waist, then reach for the plates.

When I step out onto the patio, the cool breeze off the water touches my face, sending a few loose whisps of hair from the side of my ponytail across my cheekbone.

“Fish tacos and the grilled mahi mahi.” I set the plates down in front of the young couple. “Do you two need anything else?”

“Would you take a photo of us?” the woman asks, reaching for her purse.

“Of course.”

I accept her outstretched phone, then hold it up to take their picture, making sure I capture the backdrop of the ocean waves unfurling onto the sandy beach behind them. Most of the spring break tourists have left, but I’m learning that there’s no down season in Coral Cove. The pristine beach, beautiful coastal homes, and adorably quirky shops and restaurants are an attraction year-round. The town itself is charming and cheerful. I fall a little bit in love with it every day.

“There you go.” I hand the woman back her phone.

She glances at her phone screen to check my work. “Thank you,” she says in approval before setting it back on the table.

I turn to leave their table, but the man summons me back with a lift of his hand.

“One more thing,” he says. “Any idea how to find a Covey?”

I press my lips together, steeling my face to his question. I should be used to it by now. It’s not the first time someone has asked me. But the anxiety that tourists probing about the anonymous paintings elicits hasn’t eased at all.

The woman waves me off in jest. “He’s kidding.” She throws him a pinched look. “Obviously, we know they’re totally random and one could pop up at any moment. That’s the fun of it.”

“It doesn’t hurt to ask. We’re only here a few days, so we need to stack the deck if you want to find one.”

Still addressing her boyfriend, she points a finger toward me.

“It’s not like she knows where one would be. If she did, she’d claim it for herself.” Her attention turns to me. “Right?”

Before I can answer, her boyfriend starts talking again.

“Maybe she already has one and would help us out. She’s a local after all. I’m sure she’s got some good intel on where they typically pop up.”

“I’ve already researched. When someone finds one, they post it on the social media page.” She taps at her phone. “Three days ago, a woman and her kids from Michigan found one. See?”

While they’re going back and forth, I rub my arm absently, then freeze. A streak of yellow paint catches my eye. Damn. I thought I’d cleaned it all off.

The man turns away from her outstretched phone and settles his gaze back on me.

“Any information you might have would be appreciated.”

“Last one was three days ago?” I ask, recalling the sunset beachscape of bright oranges and yellows giving way to a purplish-blue sky with lush green plants peeking out of a sandy beach.

“According to the Covey social media page. Unless someone found one and didn’t report it.”

“I’m sure one is likely to show up soon then,” I offer encouragement, while keeping my face void of emotion.

He dips his head in my direction, eyes pleading. “Any hints on best places to look?”

“Jason, I can hear you.” The woman covers her ears. “This feels like cheating.”

His panicky eyes dart to his girlfriend, then back to me. “Please. She’s driving me nuts with this. It’s taking over our entire vacation.”

I glance around the restaurant’s wooden deck, then back to him.

---