The Complete Eagle Cove

Chapter 2 -4

Greg’s level of distraction was high enough that he wasn’t sure who was more relieved by Ralph Baxter’s call about the halibut, him or Vincent. He hadn’t dropped or damaged any more boards, but he’d knocked himself to the ground twice by catching his foot on the sawhorses. And he’d spent twenty minutes trying to round up the box of screws he’d knocked onto the garage floor. They were stainless steel, so he couldn’t even use a magnet to gather them back up out of the sawdust. The sharp points pricked like blackberry thorns as he scrabbled about in search of them.

And every stupid-a*s thing Greg did, his best friend had just rubbed it in more.

“Give me a break, Vincent. I don’t even know who Jessica Baxter is anymore.”

“Oh, like you knew so much then. But you’ve been pining after her pretty a*s for every one of the fourteen years she’s been gone.”

“No, I haven’t!” Yes, I have. “How do you know it’s pretty? You said you just saw her drive by.”

“Because it was awesome in a slim girl way when she was eighteen and you’re way distracted now, dude.” Dude had gone out of fashion when they were in middle school, so it had become their trademark greeting. Their theory had been that they were both out of the mainstream anyway, so maybe they’d become cool for being so far out of it. It hadn’t really worked out that way. Though some part of it must have worked for Vincent, he’d married Dawn after all. By the end of high school, she wasn’t just the hot chick, she was the hottest “get” as well. Beauty and brains joined together in a female Puffling. And despite all of the rumors, she’d been picky as hell—even if she had been dumb enough to pick Greg’s best friend.

There’d never been heat between he and Dawn. Plenty of admiration, he had been a teenage boy after all and Dawn had been, well, daunting. But the connection had always been as friends. Vincent had fallen under her spell early and never recovered, though he had been damned slow on the uptake. He didn’t figure it out until Dawn had asked him to the Senior Prom, then he’d never looked back.

Greg had taken Vicki Highland, who had the romantic soul of a razor clam. After the prom, when everyone had been headed to a beach bonfire in tuxes and gowns, she’d asked for a ride home. “I’ve seen a bonfire beneath the stars before,” she’d kissed his cheek and gone inside leaving him dumbfounded on the porch. She’d married an accountant in Salem and worked as his assistant and business manager. About right.

By the time Ralph Baxter’s call came in, he and Vincent both decided that it was a saving grace that there was now a massive piece of fish coming into dock.

Greg called around. Dawn and the twins often helped him when he did one of his “Irregular Friday Dinners at The Puffin.” Even at seven years old, the girls already could do a fine job of setting tables or making sure a pot was well watched; he could trust them with most of the stirring on a risotto now, though they’d have to trade off a couple times because it was a long process. But they were out of town. He sent Dawn a text to be sure to be back in time to eat and got back a thumb’s up emoticon.

Gina would be busy with her niece. Could Jessica cook? Or was she now one of those urbanites who could “order takeout with the best of them?” He’d wager on the latter. He briefly considered Tiffany, but he had no way to reach her so it didn’t matter anyway.

He called Peggy out at the small Eagle’s Airfield that served a few locals and the occasional tourist with their own plane. She was rebuilding an old Stearman Model 4 biplane with the idea of offering fixed-wing flights to tourists in addition to her father’s aged Bell 206 helicopter. Peggy was also a fair hand in the kitchen. Unable to reach any of his other “regulars” he finally called his dad.

“Hi, Dad. You’ve never helped me with my food before, but Ralph Baxter is bringing in a side of halibut for me and I can’t find some of my regular folks. I was wondering if you could help out tonight? Actually starting pretty much right now. I know that it’s short notice but I would really…” Greg got the impression that the Judge was just letting him ramble on until he was done. So Greg grabbed a clue off the shelf and shut up.

“All you had to do was ask, son.”

“You’d have to do exactly what I tell you. This isn’t an omelet or a stack of pancakes. This is—”

“Greg,” the Judge cut him off this time. “Remember who taught you to cook.”

“Ma did,” and he felt the pain of her loss all over again. He’d learned a lot of technique since, but Ma had taught him all of the basics, especially the passion for food. She would have loved what he was doing which was sometimes the only thing that kept him going.

“Exactly. They didn’t make me a judge for all of those years because I was stupid. You tell me what to do and I’ll do my best to help.”

Greg pulled the phone away to look at it, as if he could somehow see the mysterious man on the other end of the connection. It sounded like his father, it just didn’t speak like him.

He reeled the phone back in.

“I’ll see you there, Dad. And thanks.”

“Uh-huh,” neither positive nor negative, just an acknowledgement. Greg wondered if he should reprimand the Judge for “offering such a neutral sound of minimal form and a complete lack of content,” but then the connection was cut off at the other end and he’d lost his opportunity to do so.

Greg was halfway down the driveway when he pulled up short and turned back to Vincent. “You bring Dawn and the girls to dinner. I’ll make sure you get a table. And get her some goddamn flowers.”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Chef, sir!” Vincent saluted him as if either of them had been in the Navy.

“And don’t pick them from her own garden.”

He could see by his somewhat abashed look, that’s exactly what Vincent had been about to do. How Vincent had ended up married to Dawn was a mystery…to all three of them—well maybe not to Dawn, but he and Vincent had never figured it out. Then Vincent smiled that bad idea smile of his that had so frequently led their trio into disastrous trouble as teens.

“What?”

“I’ll just slip over and pick them from Dragon Winslow’s garden!”

Greg decided that scarcity was the better part of valor and made himself scarce very quickly. He just hoped that Vincent was still alive to bring his wife and the kids to The Puffin later tonight.