Page 84 of Enemies to Lobsters
“Let’s get something to snack on.” I lace my fingers through hers, dragging her away from her command post and her checklist. “Put the tablet down. Everything is ready. It’s not supposed to start until seven o’clock—that’s what you said, right?”
“Right,” she mutters.
“I’m sure Louise will be here.”
“And Boone?”
Why is she so stressed? “And Boone.” I take a little cup full of tiny skewers and pass it to my wife. “Eat.”
She frowns at me. “You know, sometimes I’m not grumpy because I’m hungry.” She puts the short wooden skewer directly in her mouth, un-skewering the row of berries and cheese with her teeth. Geesh, she really was hungry. “Sometimes I’m grumpy because I have legitimate stressors,” she says around her snack.
“Like when the Red Sox won the World Series.” I can’t miss an opportunity to bring this up.
“Ugh. Don’t remind me.” She’s really tackling those skewers now. She was in mourning when they won that fourth game last October. “Nice touch, by the way,” she calls to Marlow, with a nod toward a glass jar full of paper straws at the drink station.
Marlow laughs as she refills a stand with skewer cups. “I thought you’d enjoy that detail.”
Diana drags a blueberry off her skewer, chomping on it like it offended her ancestors.
“Where were we?” I press my hand against her waist, pulling her in. “And sometimes you’re grumpy because you work all day with your husband, then come home to his ugly mug at night.”
The corners of her mouth turn down, but her eyes are bright. “That’s not true. Not even a little bit.” She’s fully focused on wrapping a circle of salami around a cube of cheese, right up against my chest. A woman on a mission. “I love my new job. You’re my favorite co-worker.”
“Boss,” I correct her for the millionth time.
She ignores me. “Hal, on the other hand…” She makes a face like she opened a cooler full of dead lobsters.
Hal wasn’t too keen on the idea of hiring Diana as a consultant, and he was even less happy when she took Nellie’s spot on the town board last month. He didn’t complain when she slowly started solving our financial woes, though, or when shegot the brunette from WCVB in Boston to report on the ribbon-cutting ceremony. He’s been following her around all afternoon. Poor lady.
“There you are,” Louise says, breathless as she steps up beside us. “We made it.”
Boone tromps up beside her wearing a Charizard T-shirt and a giant, crooked smile.
“Oh, I’m so glad you’re here!” Diana gasps. “It’s time.”
Boone immediately swats at Diana’s arm, but she dodges it. She’s an old hand at this now. Without skipping a beat, he throws his tiny arms around her waist and squeezes the guts out of my wife. Diana wheezes.
Louise steps between them, her expression smooth and her voice calm while she redirects her son. We’ve discussed this. Boone’s smacking only got worse after the storm, solidifying our theory that the smacking—and now death hugs—are his way of showing love to Diana.
“Anyway.” She’s actively shielding Diana from her son. “I’m glad we could be here,” Louise says, looking at me with a question in her eyes.
I shrug. Ever since she started planning it, my wife has been downright pushy about Louise and Boone attending the ribbon-cutting ceremony. Strangely so.
Diana looks up at me, totally unfazed. “We can start now. Are you ready? You know what to do?” She’s practically bouncing on her toes, she’s so excited.
“Yup. You cut the ribbon. I’ll man the lights.”
She barely holds back a squeal. “Let’s do this.”
A few minutes later, Diana is standing on the steps of the keeper’s house in front of a microphone. My wife is a knockout, standing there in her blue dress, her red lips drawn into a huge smile as she surveys the crowd and prepares to speak. The sun is behind the trees and the sky is gray. Spring came early this year,thankfully, so we have bearable weather for hosting most of the town of Cape Georgeana tonight.
A guy from WCVB is a few feet away, his camera trained on Diana, with the brunette journalist at his side. We had a near-miss when Speedo Kevin almost hit on her, but my mom dragged him away by his belt loops. We don’t think she or her camera man noticed. My fingers are crossed. At our last town meeting Diana threatened everyone to act normal while they’re on camera. So far, so good. Some positive exposure will do so much for us.
Diana clears her throat, barely looking at her note card. “Last year, when I came home to Cape Georgeana and saw the condition of this lighthouse, I was heartbroken. It was crumbling, worn, and left alone. I could relate.” The crowd chuckles and she grins. “I learned a few things, though. The worth of this lighthouse didn’t change because it was abandoned.” She finds my mother in the crowd, and they exchange watery smiles.
“This lighthouse is a beacon to tired travelers. It stands tall. It’s a symbol, reminding us that doing the thing we were uniquely designed to do is the most important work we can do in this world. Even if our unique role is weird, thankless, or exhausting” — she smiles at Louise — “or if we end up marrying Ike Wentworth in the process. Every one of us is here for a unique purpose. Doing what we were created and designed to do is where we find true joy in life.” She picks up the unwieldy, huge scissors she found on Amazon, then nods to me.
I’m ready. I’ll cut the power to the strings of lights overhead and flip on the exterior lights at her cue. August is upstairs. He’ll kick on the gigantic new LED lamp in the lantern room when it’s time. Diana orchestrated this evening down to the last detail. The woman is a force of nature.
