“You’ve made me look like some mindless little clone who just buys expensive groceries and fritters away her time in the galley,” she said, in a hurt tone. I could hear the suppressed shriek; she’s a harpy, deep down inside, but she hides it well.
“I’m so sorry I’ve upset you,” he said, sincerity etched in the lines of his weathered face. “I didn’t mean to portray you as one of that crowd. You’re the protypical charter boat chef, Liz. They all aspire to be like you, but none of them are even in the same league. They can dress like you and act like you. A few of them may even be able to cook like you, but they can’t fool me — not really. You’re unique, and your talents and skills go far beyond what you do in the galley. You can hand, reef, and steer with the best sailors I know, and there’s nobody I’d rather have at my back when things turn rough."
Of course, I knew he would normally have added, “except Dani,” but I can understand why he didn’t. I wouldn’t cross her myself; she can be dangerous. I watched her expression soften as she listened, and the next thing I knew, they were walking away, arm in arm, going to some upscale coffee shop near the yacht club.
I’m relieved. The way she’d been carrying on with me about that post, I thought he’d have another bend in that crooked nose of his before she was done. I see now where Connie gets her smooth talk; he should have been a lawyer.
Speaking of lawyers, our current charter guests are taking an island tour today. They’re a nice enough couple, but a little on the boring side. They’re a husband and wife, partners in some real estate law practice. When we got the booking, I was hoping they were criminal lawyers — maybe with some interesting, unhappy clients who might try to ruin their vacation. No such luck.
Liz has been having a fine time keeping them amused. They’ve been snorkeling, shopping, and going to the museums. They spent one whole day walking around Pointe-à-Pitre, making pictures of the shoe stores. I’ll grant you, not many cities have streets a mile long with nothing but shoe stores, but still.
They’re easily entertained and not much trouble, but I’ve been going nuts trying to stay out of the way. I’ve done things like dive on the prop every day and polish it. I’ve spent so much time under Vengeance scraping imaginary barnacles that the fish are bringing me snacks.
Oh, well. Every charter can’t be worth a book. I hope Connie and Paul are having more excitement with their new boat. I’ll be glad when their adventure is done and I can get Bud’s devious mind focused on my needs again.