Page 15 of Enemies to Lobsters
Boone huffs in the seat beside me, and I go on. “It’s one year of my life in exchange for enough money to completely renovate the lighthouse. On the list of sacrifices I’ve made for the good of Cape Georgeana, this one doesn’t even make the top ten most bizarre, right buddy?”
I’m baffled that Diana is agreeing to it, though. Boone just scrunches his eyes and wads up his sandwich wrapper.
The light is fading when I look out at the keeper’s house with its red roof, white-painted siding, and crumbling gingerbread trim—my new home for the foreseeable future. The lighthouse tower, the house, and a small boat shack are the only structures on the island, all surrounded by waving green grass interspersed with granite boulders. There’s a crooked white picket fence outlining a small yard and an empty flagpole. That’s it.
Per Charles York’s email, our arrangement begins immediately after Diana and I say “I do.” But I’m not thinking about that. I’m thinking about how living on the tidal island willslightlychange my commute. I’m either going to have to memorize the tide chart or buy a rowboat. And I need to pack tomorrow. I’m thinking about hauling my stuff onto the island, the fastest route from here to the town office building, and how I’m going to tell my mother—all simple tasks relative to the thought of being Diana York’s husband for a year.
Husband. That word is like a hurdle on a track. There are a few obstacles to clear before I can make this town financially viable. One of them is Husband.
“One year, Boone. I can do this.” Diana’s flashing blue eyes pop into my mind and this particular hurdle feels a little more daunting. I take the last bite of my sandwich. I’ve got this. I’m psyched. If this wereRocky, I’d be fist pumping at the top of some steps right now.
Boone grunts, interrupting my spinning thoughts. He’s letting me know that he’s done and it’s time to take him home. He’s particular about how long these sandwich outings last. We don’t usually stay long, but I’ve been consumed by my thoughts. We’ve been parked here for a while.
“Okay, buddy.” I put the truck in reverse. “Good talk. I’ll take you home.”
Chapter 8
Diana
Some people say the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. I disagree. The definition of insanity is marrying your lifelong enemy and moving into a lighthouse with him for a year for money.
I’m tapping my toe on the terrazzo tile in the lobby of the county courthouse, waiting for Ike to turn up. He'd better not stand me up. He promised. And he e-signed the thorough legal agreement I sent yesterday.
My grandparents are here, wearing matching smug expressions. Frankly, I’m appalled that they’d marry off their only granddaughter to the first and only bidder. I’m appalled at myself for going along with it, but the lighthouse—
“Tell me more about this boy while we wait.” My grandpa runs his thumbs under his suspenders. He took the morning off of his retirement spreadsheets for this sham, and he's looking much too pleased with himself.
Grandma is seated on his other side, her arm threaded through his. “You saw him at a town meeting, Charles. He’s the town manager.” Since when do my grandparents go to town meetings? And why does Grandma have stars in her eyes?
She was a little too giddy when I told her I’d found someone to marry and was ready to move ahead with their deal. Apparently shelikesIke Wentworth. I should check in on her more often. There’s obviously something in the water in Cape Georgeana that makes people lose their dang minds.
“The gray-haired fellow?” There’s only a hint of worry in Grandpa’s question. “Diana, he’s over twice your age. But I suppose he’s upstanding.”
He’s describing the other guy on the select board. And I’m irked that they don’t care who I’m marrying, just that I'll no longer carry the stigma of being thirty-two and unmarried.Gasp.
“I like older men.” I shrug.
Grandma swats at me with her free hand. “She’s marrying Ike Wentworth—the bearded fellow. The one who solved the issue with the cell coverage.” She leans around Grandpa to talk to me. “He got our carrier to add a tower closer to town.”
Well. I might as well marry the guy.
“Him?” Grandpa’s smile is wide and genuine. “I like that boy.”
Ugh.
Speak of the devil. Ike breezes through the glass doors, and I double take before I can stop myself. He dressed up. He’s wearing a tie and a pressed white shirt. His dark beard is neatly trimmed, accentuating his strong jaw. The contrast of the beard and the tie makes me swallow. I press the back of my cold, shaking hand against my forehead to soothe the heat washing over my face. That man is about to become my husband.
He finally spots us. “Ready to do this, Princess?” he asks with a crooked grin.
I arch an eyebrow. He’s already breaking the rules, and his boyish smirk tells me he is well aware. I’ve never met a grown woman who appreciates being called Princess. That has to stop.
“Last one.” He holds up three fingers like a Boy Scout. “I promise, Diana.”
We stand, and Ike shakes my grandparents’ hands, introducing himself.
Stevie rushes through the door. Even my best friend dressed in a cute little vintage dress and curled her red hair for the occasion. Everyone seems to be treating this business agreement like an actual wedding. “Did I miss it?”
We follow my grandparents across the lobby. They’re the ringleaders of this charade. “There’s nothing to miss. We’re going to sign some papers in front of a judge.”
