the pickup, I probably over-reacted.”
“ It happens again, I’ll call the cops.” Pete turned to the sink and rinsed his salt-stung hands. He stood average height, wry strong, and weathered by salt air, wind and bright sun glaring off the decking of a fishing vessel. He offered Charlie a knotted finger.
Charlie wrapped his tiny fingers around Pete’s and held fast.
“He isn’t big enough to peel shrimp yet, but he has the fingers for it.” Pete lifted the baby from his infant seat, carried him to the window and looked out – both up the street and down.
Teagan noticed the easy way Pete handled a tiny baby. “You’ve held babies before.”
Pete glanced at her. “Quit worrying. You and Charlie will be fine.”
Teagan’s anxiety softened under a silent gratitude for Pete and his common sense. After working together on the tuna boat, she hired him to help start the shop. They got along because she ignored his occasional bender and he ignored her bossiness – and questions about his age. He enjoyed keeping the secret, and she pestered him just to feed his vanity.
She leaned against the stainless steel counter. “Did Mac dock yesterday?”
“ Ya and with choice salmon this time. Wong’s had plenty in time for the reception. We could use some more orders like that.”
“ A woman from DC contacted me. She’s a convention planner. Should be a good customer. Was Mac okay?”
“ Claims he ain’t selling fish to anyone without red hair, meaning you of course.”
“ I’ll bring you a bottle of henna for your sun-bleached mop.”
Pete rubbed his handlebar mustache. “Might use it on the whiskers. Tickle my gal with red bristles.”
“Did you find a gal behind my back?” She hoped so.
Pete acted like he hadn’t heard and lifted a mackerel from a tub of salt brine. He held it up for Charlie to see with unfocused eyes. “See this, Little Fella?”
Teagan raised her brows. “Not telling, huh? This gal must be special.” Chuckling, she checked the ice maker and walked into the customer area. Salmon, tuna, and cod fillets filled the meat case. Black tiger shrimp and lobster stuck up through chipped ice at one end. Good job, Pete, she thought. Then guilt nudged for checking on his work. She wasn’t the only one who knew how to fill a meat case. Just enjoy your familiar things, she scolded silently. Lately she dealt with self correction a lot. She still felt helpless when Charlie cried and she didn’t know why. His fussing at feeding time was easy to figure out. Other times were harder. Would she ever grow used to it like she had with the problems of her shop?
She glanced at her Timex, almost feeding time and she still hadn’t gone through the daily receipts, but she lingered by the spice shelf, savoring the pungent aromas of sage, tarragon and oregano, enjoying the time alone.
Charlie’s first little demands carried to her.
A brief moment passed before Pete called, “Crying babies ain’t my thing.”
“Mine either.” Teagan bit her tongue and hurried to relieve Pete of the squirming baby. She whisked him away to the little room she fixed up as a nursery and pulled the maple rocker to a spot near the small window.
Gaily painted stars, balloons, and squares covered the walls. Her computer and file cabinet sat below the window. She’d moved them in to tally receipts and to watch Charlie at the same time. With the door open, she could see customers enter. Her pride in the room hadn’t dampened; not even when Teagan proudly gave her mother the tour.
“This is awful,” her mother had said. “Whoever heard of a baby in a fish market? Oh, don’t look at me like that. You could have done better. With your brains and good looks, you settle for this? You can’t raise my grandchild here.”
“ My son will be with me, never isolated at home like I was.”
“ You were not alone. You loved
“ It happens again, I’ll call the cops.” Pete turned to the sink and rinsed his salt-stung hands. He stood average height, wry strong, and weathered by salt air, wind and bright sun glaring off the decking of a fishing vessel. He offered Charlie a knotted finger.
Charlie wrapped his tiny fingers around Pete’s and held fast.
“He isn’t big enough to peel shrimp yet, but he has the fingers for it.” Pete lifted the baby from his infant seat, carried him to the window and looked out – both up the street and down.
Teagan noticed the easy way Pete handled a tiny baby. “You’ve held babies before.”
Pete glanced at her. “Quit worrying. You and Charlie will be fine.”
Teagan’s anxiety softened under a silent gratitude for Pete and his common sense. After working together on the tuna boat, she hired him to help start the shop. They got along because she ignored his occasional bender and he ignored her bossiness – and questions about his age. He enjoyed keeping the secret, and she pestered him just to feed his vanity.
She leaned against the stainless steel counter. “Did Mac dock yesterday?”
“ Ya and with choice salmon this time. Wong’s had plenty in time for the reception. We could use some more orders like that.”
“ A woman from DC contacted me. She’s a convention planner. Should be a good customer. Was Mac okay?”
“ Claims he ain’t selling fish to anyone without red hair, meaning you of course.”
“ I’ll bring you a bottle of henna for your sun-bleached mop.”
Pete rubbed his handlebar mustache. “Might use it on the whiskers. Tickle my gal with red bristles.”
“Did you find a gal behind my back?” She hoped so.
Pete acted like he hadn’t heard and lifted a mackerel from a tub of salt brine. He held it up for Charlie to see with unfocused eyes. “See this, Little Fella?”
Teagan raised her brows. “Not telling, huh? This gal must be special.” Chuckling, she checked the ice maker and walked into the customer area. Salmon, tuna, and cod fillets filled the meat case. Black tiger shrimp and lobster stuck up through chipped ice at one end. Good job, Pete, she thought. Then guilt nudged for checking on his work. She wasn’t the only one who knew how to fill a meat case. Just enjoy your familiar things, she scolded silently. Lately she dealt with self correction a lot. She still felt helpless when Charlie cried and she didn’t know why. His fussing at feeding time was easy to figure out. Other times were harder. Would she ever grow used to it like she had with the problems of her shop?
She glanced at her Timex, almost feeding time and she still hadn’t gone through the daily receipts, but she lingered by the spice shelf, savoring the pungent aromas of sage, tarragon and oregano, enjoying the time alone.
Charlie’s first little demands carried to her.
A brief moment passed before Pete called, “Crying babies ain’t my thing.”
“Mine either.” Teagan bit her tongue and hurried to relieve Pete of the squirming baby. She whisked him away to the little room she fixed up as a nursery and pulled the maple rocker to a spot near the small window.
Gaily painted stars, balloons, and squares covered the walls. Her computer and file cabinet sat below the window. She’d moved them in to tally receipts and to watch Charlie at the same time. With the door open, she could see customers enter. Her pride in the room hadn’t dampened; not even when Teagan proudly gave her mother the tour.
“This is awful,” her mother had said. “Whoever heard of a baby in a fish market? Oh, don’t look at me like that. You could have done better. With your brains and good looks, you settle for this? You can’t raise my grandchild here.”
“ My son will be with me, never isolated at home like I was.”
“ You were not alone. You loved
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