Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 102719 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 514(@200wpm)___ 411(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102719 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 514(@200wpm)___ 411(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
In an effort to stay calm, I step back and lift my baseball hat off my head. Put it on backward. “I thought your restaurant was going to be an oyster and rum joint?”
Lu glances at me again, gaze sharpening when she takes in my hat. “We’ll serve the oysters all kinds of ways. Raw. Roasted. Fried.”
My stomach grumbles again. Now that I know what good food looks and tastes like, I’ve realized the restaurant scene here on the island is mediocre at best. When Lu confessed that she dreamed of writing cookbooks and then opening her own restaurant on Bald Head, I was one hundred percent on board.
Her ambition ignited my own.
Now I want to help Lu open her restaurant. I want to play a role in the world that’s bigger than the one I have now at the marina as the guy with a strong back. I’ve never met anyone with dreams as big as Lu’s, and now I’m starting to dream big too. Mostly about how I can keep Bald Head’s authentic island vibe, but improve on the cool thing we already have going here. Before Mom and I moved to Bald Head at the beginning of the summer, I had no idea wealth like this existed. But now that I’ve worked fishing charters for the bankers, builders, and real estate moguls who make millions developing places like Bald Head, I know what’s possible.
I want a piece of the action. With Lu’s help, I’ve brainstormed ways to bring high-quality food and shopping on the island. From what I’ve gathered, there’s money to be made in residential property development too. I’d like to build some houses that preserve Bald Head’s signature look: shingled siding, lots of shutters, and rocking-chair front porches. A real estate guy told me waterfront property has the most potential.
Man, I’d kill to own a place on the water one day myself.
“You’re going to keep Tuck very busy, then,” I say to Lu.
“That’s the hope. Keep it local, keep it fresh.” She finishes piping the cheese straws and begins to cut the rows into bite-size pieces. “I like Biggers’s idea of keeping it simple too. Really focus on the quality of ingredients.”
“I agree. The food would be delicious. I also think it’d make good business sense. Supporting local fishermen and farmers would mean cutting down on shipping and storage costs. Biggers knows his shit when it comes to that stuff.”
Frank Biggers is my boss at the marina; I work there with two of my buddies from high school, Tuck and Abel. Biggers has owned and operated it since it opened in the eighties. Lately I’ve been picking his brain about what he’d like to see happen in Harbour Village, the little town that’s sprung up around Bald Head’s marina. It’s mostly private residences (the Gibbes’s being one of them), some shops and restaurants, and an inn. We talk about buying up the property around the village—and across the rest of the island—to ensure the land is properly developed. We want to preserve as much forest and beach as possible, while also making Bald Head a world-class destination on par with places Nantucket and The Hamptons, spots those bankers I meet on charters can’t stop talking about.
Maybe one day, if I work hard enough, come across a little luck, I can make all these ideas and dreams a reality. Maybe then Mom won’t have to work like a dog to make ends meet.
And yeah, maybe then I can afford to have the family I’ve always wanted but never really had. I don’t think I would mind being an only child if my parents didn’t work so much. I was alone a lot as a kid. Still am.
The timer on Lu’s phone goes off. Leaning in to give her bare shoulder a soft, quick bite, I grab an oven mitt and pull the tray of cheese straws out of the oven.
“They look perfect, Legs.” I put the tray on a nearby trivet. “Golden, just shy of brown.”
Lu holds up a hand. “Fuck yeah. Do we make a great team or do we make a great team?”
“You’re doing all the work, but if you want to give me some completely undeserved credit, sure, we’re the best team ever.” I give her a high five. Lace my fingers through hers, my skin buzzing with electricity at the contact.
“Please. You’re the inspiration. And the one who tells me everything I make is the best thing you’ve ever eaten, which is pretty amazing motivation. What’s the point of cooking if you have no one to enjoy your food like that? You’re the best cheerleader ever.” She gives her dark hair a shake. “And not just for my cooking. I told you I like my natural color better, and you told me to ditch the blonde if that was the case. Mom may never forgive me for going back to brunette, but whatever.”