Page 33 of Summer on Sunshine Bay

“This way,” Luke said, turning down Church Street. “How’s everything going with the wedding and your family?” He smiled when she hesitated. “Feel free to tell me to mind my own business.”

She might have if he hadn’t seen and heard her at her worst. Not to mind his own business, of course, but that everything was wonderful and that she was fine. Instead she shared what the past two days had been like. Ten minutes later, as they turned down Forest Ridge Road, she groaned. “I’m sorry for talking your ear off. I totally overshared, didn’t I?”

He lifted a broad shoulder. “Doesn’t bother me if it doesn’t bother you. But it sounds like you’ve got a lot going on. Are you sure this is a good time for you to be taking on a client?”

“It’s probably the best time. I need a distraction from all the wedding drama.”

“Okay, but if it gets to be too much for you, just say the word.” He nodded at a large building with traditional cedar-shake siding. A sign above the closed rolling door readSUP Sunshine, and to the left, above a regular door, another sign saidOffice. “Here we are.”

She smiled. “I like the name.”

Luke rubbed the back of his head. “My grandmother’s contribution to the business.”

SUPwas the acronym forstand-up paddleboarding. “It works, but you mentioned you make kayaks too?”

“My main business is paddleboards, but I’ve had a couple requests for custom sea kayaks.” He shrugged and rolled up the door. “Money was too good to pass up.”

The warm, earthy smell of sawdust greeted her as they walked into the shop. Luke hit the lights, and they flickered to life, revealing kayaks hanging from the rafters and paddleboards and paddles leaning against the walls.

“Luke, these are incredible,” she said, finding it hard to believe he’d made them. She walked across the concrete floor to a worktable and ran her fingers over a board. The wood with its glass-like finish and varying shades of chestnut, carmine, and dark ginger was stunning, but it was the leafy golden tree etched into the board that elevated it to a work of art. “Does anyone ever buy these to hang on their wall?”

“A few, and I’ve just completed a couple of countertops for Surfside, the bar on Main Street.”

She gestured to the boards on the wall and kayaks hanging from the rafters. “You haven’t sold all of these, have you?”

“I keep a few on hand for someone who doesn’t want to wait, and we rent out the ones over there”—he pointed to a wall of boards and kayaks at the far end of the shop—“but the rest are sold. They’ll go out for delivery or pickup tomorrow.”

“And this one?” she asked, her fingers tracing the delicate golden-brown leaves.

“That’s a custom. I’m delivering it today.”

“Do you mind me asking how much you sold it for?”

“Five thousand.” And then, as if embarrassed at the price, he went on to explain the work involved in making one.

“Tell me more.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, absolutely.”

He walked her around the shop, showing her the equipment he used to cut out the patterns, explaining how he’d had to source parts to adapt it to his specific requirements. How his boards contained almost no plastic, and how he had managed to eliminate most of the foam, making them ecofriendly.

His watch beeped, and he glanced at the time. “I can’t believe I talked that long. You should’ve told me to shut up.”

“No way. It’s fascinating.”

“I could go on for hours, but I have to deliver this board. And you have a dinner to go to, don’t you?”

She groaned. “Don’t remind me. What time is it anyway?”

“Four. I can give you a ride if you want.”

“Sure, as long as it isn’t out of your way. I’m staying with my dad on Ocean View.”

“Lila, nothing is out of the way in Sunshine Bay.”

They talked about setting up another meeting as he locked up the shop and loaded the board he’d wrapped in a protective covering into the back of an old-model silver pickup truck.

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