Page 26 of The Shell Collector
Maeve stopped at the top of the steps and took off her sandals.
A little sand between the toes stomps out the woes.
That uptight woman back there needed to kick off her shoes and take a long walk on the beach.
8
Paul and his newest employee,Chase, walked into Tug’s Diner. The beautiful environment that Paws Town Square was becoming known for was all credit to Chase. He knew his stuff about landscaping, and he’d been an incredible asset to the quick start-up on this second Paws Town Square location. Former army, Chase had a hard time adjusting to civilian life, but he’d found his niche. Now they were working on three more sites together.
“Two specials, Tug,” Paul said as they grabbed two seats at the counter.
“Good morning, Paul.” Tug waved from across the way. “You got it.”
“And coffee. Lots of coffee.”
The waitress slid over with two mugs and filled them before Tug could even respond. “Got ’em,” she said.
The woman sitting to Paul’s left pushed her omelet around on the plate. She had that look about her, like someone who sent back every meal for it being wrong somehow. Or one of those letter-writing complainers.
She lifted her gaze.
“Good morning,” Paul said.
“If you say so.”
He turned to Chase and gave him a sorry-I-asked look.
Chase shrugged and snickered.
The woman leaned forward, bypassing Paul, to speak to Chase. “So, what do you think about shells popping up out of nowhere with quotes on them? Think it’s possible, or a marketing ploy?”
Chase had that deer-in-the-headlights look. The kind a husband gets when he realizes there’s no right answer.
Paul turned to the woman and extended his hand. “I’m Paul.”
“Stacy,” she said.
“Nice to meet you. You have something against the shells?”
“I think it’s bunk, and who needs to be spreading lies?”
“Who are you to say they are?”
“Look, I’m just saying I think it’s probably some kind of marketing ploy to get tourists invested in things around here or romanticize the place. Like something out of one of those Nicholas Sparks novels. It’s dishonest.”
Paul should drop it, but he couldn’t stop himself. “What’s the harm if it’s real or not? The only one putting all their attention on it seems to be you. Just let it go.”
Stacy let her fork drop to her plate and pushed it forward on the counter. “Let me guess. You’re a business owner in this town too.”
“I am, but I also found one of those shells before I had a business here.”
She leaned her elbow on the counter, spinning on the stool toward him. “Is this guy for real?” she asked Chase.
“He’s a solid guy.”
“Really?” She cocked her head. “What’s your business?” she asked Paul.
Chase chimed in. “Paws Town Square.”
