crept in to slow down and draw out his words. “Every now and then somebody comes up with a weapon that’s not strictly on the books. Confiscated a blunderbuss from Pascal Higginsa few years back. ’Course, time I knew the thing existed it was too late for the fellow on the business end of it. Soiled himself good, suffered some real humiliation, which might’ve been a lot worse had the fool thing not misfired. Pas was lucky, too. No telling what might explode when a gun hasn’t been fired in a few decades, but he only ended up with a powder burn on his neck.” His eyes sharpened on Dex’s face. “Every day’s an adventure around here.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“A smart man would, and like I said, I figure you for a smart man. You’ll send a round to Maggie’s table,” he said to AJ and, having done his duty by the island and provided refreshment for his friends, he headed off without a word of farewell or a backward glance.
George slid in beside Maggie, bumped her shoulder with his in a way that bespoke long friendship. When he stayed pressed up against her, when she looked up into his face and laughed at something he said, no walls, no holding back, just a lot of affection, Dex had to roll his shoulders to work off… something.
“Careful there, son,” AJ Appelman said.
“Always,” Dex returned, taking another swig from his longneck and feeling like he’d dodged a bullet since neither Maggie nor the sheriff had noticed him staring. George Boatwright seemed inclined to take his cover story at face value. Dex got the impression that would change if he paid too much attention to Maggie Solomon. So he’d keep his distance, mentally and physically.
Apparently his mouth didn’t get the message from his brain. “Quite a surprise to find out Admiral Solomon is Maggie’s father.”
AJ gave him a bland look.
“I should have known she was a military brat. She actslike she’s walking a post,” Dex explained into the silence. “All she’s missing is the gun.”
AJ took up a towel and a glass from the drainer next to the little bar sink, and set to polishing. “This is her home. No surprise she feels protective.”
“It’s more than that.”
“Observant fellow, aren’t you?” AJ put the polished glass on the clean rack and took another, meeting Dex’s gaze. “I ’spect a lawyer’d have to be, and that’s what you are, right? A lawyer?”
“A good one,” Dex said without batting an eye.
AJ continued polishing, keeping his opinion on that to himself. Dex should have grinned over the ploy, but it was working. He wanted to know what was going through AJ’s mind. Worse, he realized he’d underestimated the man; he’d underestimated every man, woman, and child who called Windfall home.
They might be a small, isolated community, living on a quaint, historical island, but it didn’t mean they were backward or easily fooled. Just the opposite. Their predecessors had had little but their wits to help them navigate through a cold, often cruel world. Those ancestors had dealt with tragedy and death on a regular basis, had seen and done the unspeakable, had walked head-on into danger to support their families, and to help others, even if rescue had been merely the means to their own survival. And only the strong, the smart, had survived.
They’d passed those qualities down to their children, and their children’s children. Today’s Windfallers might not put their lives on the line for strangers and profit, but they were smart, and cautious, and probably ruthless when the occasion called for it. They tolerated tourists because tourism provided, but they didn’t like outsiders, no matter how friendly.
Dex wouldn’t forget it again. “This place have a museum?” he asked, knowing full well there wasn’t one, but hoping to angle the conversation around to Meeker and his journals.
“This place is a museum.” AJ set another beer Dex hadn’t ordered beside the one he hadn’t
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
“A smart man would, and like I said, I figure you for a smart man. You’ll send a round to Maggie’s table,” he said to AJ and, having done his duty by the island and provided refreshment for his friends, he headed off without a word of farewell or a backward glance.
George slid in beside Maggie, bumped her shoulder with his in a way that bespoke long friendship. When he stayed pressed up against her, when she looked up into his face and laughed at something he said, no walls, no holding back, just a lot of affection, Dex had to roll his shoulders to work off… something.
“Careful there, son,” AJ Appelman said.
“Always,” Dex returned, taking another swig from his longneck and feeling like he’d dodged a bullet since neither Maggie nor the sheriff had noticed him staring. George Boatwright seemed inclined to take his cover story at face value. Dex got the impression that would change if he paid too much attention to Maggie Solomon. So he’d keep his distance, mentally and physically.
Apparently his mouth didn’t get the message from his brain. “Quite a surprise to find out Admiral Solomon is Maggie’s father.”
AJ gave him a bland look.
“I should have known she was a military brat. She actslike she’s walking a post,” Dex explained into the silence. “All she’s missing is the gun.”
AJ took up a towel and a glass from the drainer next to the little bar sink, and set to polishing. “This is her home. No surprise she feels protective.”
“It’s more than that.”
“Observant fellow, aren’t you?” AJ put the polished glass on the clean rack and took another, meeting Dex’s gaze. “I ’spect a lawyer’d have to be, and that’s what you are, right? A lawyer?”
“A good one,” Dex said without batting an eye.
AJ continued polishing, keeping his opinion on that to himself. Dex should have grinned over the ploy, but it was working. He wanted to know what was going through AJ’s mind. Worse, he realized he’d underestimated the man; he’d underestimated every man, woman, and child who called Windfall home.
They might be a small, isolated community, living on a quaint, historical island, but it didn’t mean they were backward or easily fooled. Just the opposite. Their predecessors had had little but their wits to help them navigate through a cold, often cruel world. Those ancestors had dealt with tragedy and death on a regular basis, had seen and done the unspeakable, had walked head-on into danger to support their families, and to help others, even if rescue had been merely the means to their own survival. And only the strong, the smart, had survived.
They’d passed those qualities down to their children, and their children’s children. Today’s Windfallers might not put their lives on the line for strangers and profit, but they were smart, and cautious, and probably ruthless when the occasion called for it. They tolerated tourists because tourism provided, but they didn’t like outsiders, no matter how friendly.
Dex wouldn’t forget it again. “This place have a museum?” he asked, knowing full well there wasn’t one, but hoping to angle the conversation around to Meeker and his journals.
“This place is a museum.” AJ set another beer Dex hadn’t ordered beside the one he hadn’t
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