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We both stared at each other, mouths agape. The line clicked, and a croaky voice filled the air. “Row, my boy. How’re you doing?”
Cal’s eyebrows shot to her hairline. I thought on my feet. “Hey there, Sanders. Good. You?”
“No complaints. Filled all eight hundred traps we sailed with. Shame about Descartes shutting down. These lobsters would’ve earned you another Michelin star.”
“Uh-huh.” I traced my tongue inside my inner cheek. “When are you heading back?”
Silence. Normally, I was a fan. But I had a feeling this quiet was the result of mental scrambling on his part. Sanders gulped audibly. “What do you mean, back?”
“When are you scheduled to arrive in Staindrop?”
“We’ve been back for a couple days now.” Sanders coughed, and I heard him fumbling with food wrappers, cracking open a can of beer. “Is Tuck not home?”
“No,” I said, jaw flexing. “He is not.”
More silence. My blood bubbled in my veins, reaching a dangerous temperature.
“Any idea where he might’ve gone?” I pushed. Cal was turning a pale shade of green.
A rustling sound came from upstairs. “Aw! Nice burp, Grav. Your daddy’s daughter, indeed.” Dylan whistled, impressed, while descending the stairs.
Cal gasped, pushing me out to the front yard so we could continue this conversation in private. She shut the door behind us. As soon as we were out, I lit that cigarette.
“Th-that ain’t really none of my business,” Sanders stammered.
“No.” I exhaled smoke through my nostrils. “But it’s mine, and if there’s something I need to know, you better tell me now.” Then, to bring my point home, I added, “Dylan gave birth three days ago. We need to find Tucker and let him know.”
“The little idiot…” Sanders muttered, sighing. “Congratulations to your sister, son. Children are the greatest gift of all.”
“Sure about that? Because I can think of one gift that’s even better—sparing you from boycotting your business. If you don’t spill the beans right now, I’ll tell all my East Coast chef friends not to fuck with you because you’re a flaky sonovobitch. Spit. It. Out.”
“Look, once we arrived at shore, he got picked up by someone. I told him to go straight home to his pregnant girlfriend. That no-gooder didn’t listen. I thought it wasn’t my business, and it still isn’t, but goddamn. The boy ain’t the sharpest pencil in the pack, is he? What the hell is he thinking?”
“Who picked him up?”
“Row…” He sighed.
“Sanders.” I smacked the wall of the house, about to lose my shit. Cal gasped. “Answer me.”
“It was Mayor Murray.”
ROW
Half an hour later Cal and I were sitting on either side of Dylan, who had just put Gravity down for her fortieth nap for the day. She looked exhausted and sleep-deprived. What she didn’t look was devastated, heartbroken, or inconsolable.
Which was interesting, since we had just broken the news to her that her boyfriend was probably cheating on her with Staindrop’s mayor.
“You mean…he is in town and hasn’t even bothered to check on me?” She perked up, squeezing her own cheeks with excitement.
“Yeah.” Cal squinted, studying her with alarm. “That’s what we’re saying. Are you high on those pain meds?”
“Nope.” My sister seemed genuinely giddy.
Cal licked her lips, still confused. “Look, I know this is—”
“Wonderful!” Dylan stood up, flinging her hands in the air with a radiant smile. “Oh, this is the best news ever. Dot, I would kiss you right now if I didn’t know your favorite lip gloss shade is my brother’s spunk.”
Cal choked on her boba tea, sending me a frightened look.
