All yelling stopped. Riley was stunned silent by what was possibly the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. He had black hair cut short around a long, angular face and eyes so dark blue, they rivaled the waters around them. His jawline was so ridiculously sharp, she was afraid to touch it—not that she thought he would be open to any such thing, anyway. But he was as pale as she was, possibly paler, with a sickly gray ring standing pale around his mouth.
“Could you please stop banging on the door?” he rasped, his lips going somehow even more ghostly.
In that moment, Riley was sorry, incredibly sorry for screaming at this man and harassing him while he suffered whatever horrors were happening in that bathroom. This was something beyond physical discomfort. This man was in agony. Having just watched her father cycle through devastating loss, it was clear to Riley that this man was going through something, and she was only making it worse.
And then, Alice slipped past the man with discreet but urgent speed. She closed the door behind her, reminding Riley of how miserable she’d been for the past half hour, not to mention Alice’s bladder distress—which couldn’t be healthy at any age. And true to form, Riley got angry all over again.
“What is wrong with you!” Riley thundered, the effort making her throat almost buckle. “Have you really been locked in there this whole time? There are other people on this boat!”
The ferry pitched again, throwing her face into his wrinkled gray suit coat. While he was rumpled, he smelled pleasantly of smoky cedar and…old paper? The enveloping warmth of it made her mouth water, but she’d always been weirdly content in used bookstores. The man grasped her upper arms in his hands and pushed her away gently. The ginger ale felt like it was boiling in her belly, sickly sweet, and she could feel that awful pressure building just under her chest.
“I have my reasons.” His voice was almost as shaky as hers, but she could hear the disdain in his voice. She’d heard it often enough during her brief and regrettable engagement. Just thinking about how that ended, the condescension, her own disappointment, the demands for Riley to “be reasonable” when she was the one who had been wronged, made the burp bubble crawl painfully up her throat.
As it rose, she realized it wasn’t just a burp bubble. Eyes wide, she bent at the waist and deposited half a can of ginger ale on his shiny black loafers. She barely registered his squawk of protest over the children’s horrified and triumphant yells.
“I-I can’t believe you did that,” he stammered as she rose, his expression somewhere between shock and dismay. She wiped the back of her hand across her mouth, glaring right back. At this point, she was just glad she missed her own sensible red Keds by a mile.
“Maybe if you hadn’t declared yourself king of the public toilet, I wouldn’t have had to,” she snapped back before swallowing thickly.
For a moment, he looked past her, terror glazing those dark blue eyes, and she was sorry all over again. This certainly wasn’t the way she wanted to start her time on Starfall Point, a roaring vomit-monster who frightened schoolchildren. But then her stomach shuddered again, and her remorse was replaced with desperation. Fortunately, Alice had pulled the door open and ushered her into the restroom. Her elfin new friend even held Riley’s hair back as she tossed up the remnants of the ginger ale.
When Riley finally emerged from the bathroom, with Alice supporting her elbow, the ferry had docked and the (unreasonably gorgeous) bathroom hog had disappeared. Even as she felt relief, she was oddly bereft. She had made the worst possible impression on that guy, and his shoes. Even though he had deserved it… Yeah, she wasn’t sure how to finish that thought. She was caught between the urge to find him to apologize and the equivalent need to further defile his footwear.
The Loyal Retriever had docked between ferries that were nearly identical to itself, other than The Ruby Slipper, which was painted in a red theme to match its name, and The Starshine II with a paint job in a nearly eye-gouging shade of mustard. Riley assumed these were the other “newer” models of the family-owned line mentioned on the PA.
“Is someone coming to pick you up, Riley?” Alice asked.
Riley grimaced. She wasn’t sure who was picking her up. When Aunt Nora had first contacted her by direct message, Riley ignored what she thought was a catfish. Sure, a long-lost relative her mother had never mentioned, luring her to a faraway and isolated location where no one would hear her scream for help, blah blah blah.
Eventually, Clark Graves messaged Riley, asking her to search for him online and call his law office, apparently understanding Riley’s need for Google confirmation. Nora’s longtime lawyer informed her that Aunt Nora’s health had been failing for a while, and she was desperate to meet Ellen’s child. Nora had only recently learned that her sister passed when she saw Ellen’s obituary posted online. Riley didn’t understand that. How had Ellen abandoned a sister who had missed her enough to regularly search for Ellen’s name online? Then Clark had emailed her plane ticket and ferry information just as Riley was “let go” from her position at a social media marketing firm in Pensacola—if the phrase “let go” was sufficient to cover having your whimsical word art and carefully cultivated succulents tossed in a box and then tossed after you while you and three dozen of your cubicle colleagues were herded from the industrial park.
Contrary to what her ex said, Riley was not prone to impulsive decisions. After her firing, she had methodically packed her bag, actively avoiding her phone and the commiserating group texts and emails from her coworkers, believing she was doing the healthiest thing for her. When she’d stepped onto the ferry, it had felt like Riley was fated to return to her mother’s hometown. Now, it was starting to feel like she was making a huge mistake.
Clark had promised to meet her at the dock for that afternoon’s ferry. His picture hadn’t been included on the site for Tanner, Moscovitz, and Graves, Attorneys at Law. And his social media presence was nonexistent—which, honestly, Riley understood. As a client, she wouldn’t want her lawyer posting drunken selfies with his buddies.
But suddenly, a thought occurred to her. What if she and Clark didn’t recognize each other? She looked just like everybody else on this boat, if a little greener. What if he didn’t know her and she just walked past him on the dock? Would she have to lug her stuff all around the island trying to locate his office? Starfall didn’t allow motor vehicles anywhere near the pristinely historical tourist areas like the Main Square. Also, she’d packed heavy, having no idea how to dress for weather other than hot and humid.
“Riley, do you have someone meeting you?” Alice asked again.
And then, an even worse thought occurred to her—what if she’d already met Clark? What if Clark was the bathroom hog? He could have taken the ferry for some sort of errand that day with plans to meet her on the dock. What if she’d vomited on the one person who could ease her arrival on Starfall Point?
“He’s a family friend, sort of,” Riley told Alice. “Clark Graves?”
“Oh, Clark? He’s…a terribly nice fellow, but he’s not here now,” she said with a pause that left Riley wondering. Surely, Alice would have mentioned if Clark was the bathroom hog. So that was one potential error averted. Now, Riley could concentrate on her aunt Nora and her purpose for just a second, instead of worry and nausea.