Read Online Spring Tide by Robbi McCoy - Free Book Online

sandwich, now, isn’t it?”
    Adam nodded enthusiastically. Jackie sat back down in her chair, smiled at her mother and stared absentmindedly across the water, thinking about a lovely woman and a dog in a broken-down houseboat.

CHAPTER SEVEN
     
     
    Jackie could hear Stef’s dog barking from inside as she drove up to the boat. The same black and silver motorcycle stood directly in front of the vessel. She took her offering up the creaky wooden steps. At the top, a brass bell hung at the edge of the deck, so Jackie rang it. Deuce appeared at the sliding glass door, looking anxiously out at her. A few seconds later, Stef appeared and slid open the door, her feet bare, wearing shorts and a tank top as before, and a yellow towel around her neck. Her hair was wet. The expression on her face was a mixture of confusion and annoyance. Not happy to see me , Jackie realized with dismay.
    “Hi,” she said, more cheerfully than she ordinarily would have, her response to Stef’s less than welcoming demeanor. She held up the basket. “I brought you a few things. Some local produce.”
    Stef stared and said nothing.
    “Invite me in?” Jackie asked, pretending to be undaunted, but remembering her father’s assessment of Stef as somebody who could easily slit your throat. She didn’t strike Jackie that way, but the gritty part, yeah, she could see that.
    Stef shrugged and withdrew into the cabin. Jackie followed into a wood-paneled interior with scant light. The pressboard furniture was all built-in, well-organized and simple. No extravagance. This room was twelve feet across and about the same lengthwise. A long bench lined one wall. A table, bolted to the floor, stood in front of that. A dark, narrow passage led from the back of the room and a steep staircase led up to the top deck. Along the other wall were rows of closed cupboards. On one plain section of paneling, a map of the Delta was pinned up. On the other side of the room was the galley, an efficient space with several cupboards, a midsized refrigerator, a sink, three-burner gas cooktop, oven below that, a microwave oven mounted under a cupboard, a short counter with a toaster and coffeemaker, and an under-cabinet row of hooks holding mismatched mugs. The layout was typical of older houseboats of this size. The carpet, Jackie noticed, was worn and stained. In contrast, the ceiling looked bright and clean, testifying to Stef’s recent repairs.
    Jackie put the basket on the table as Deuce came up and invited her to pet him. “It looks like it has everything you need,” she said.
    “Uh-huh. Seems to. I don’t see any problem with full-time living here. There are a few things I want to change. Maybe get some new furniture and replace a couple light fixtures. And take down some of this dark paneling, eventually, and update it with light colored walls.”
    “That’ll brighten it up.”
    “That’s the idea.”
    “This is nice,” Jackie said, petting Deuce. “Nicer than I expected.”
    “All the comforts of home,” Stef said, rubbing her hair with the towel. “Hot water, heat, air-conditioning, fully-equipped kitchen. The guy who owns this land wants to build a house here. He got as far as bringing in utilities and sinking a well a few years ago, then he ran out of money, but he wants to start up again.”
    “So you have to move the boat one way or another.”
    Stef smiled, a brief, ironic smile. “Right. One way or another.”
    “That’s your bike out front, right?”
    Stef nodded, her mouth hinting that was a stupid question.
    “Do you have a car?” Jackie asked.
    “No, that’s it.”
    “Does Deuce ride on that?”
    “I have a pet trailer.”
    “Good. Those are nice. And a lot safer. There’s a dude around here who rides with a Maltese on the seat between his legs. A chopper. He puts this contraption on the dog’s head, a homemade type of dog helmet and goggles, like some old World War I pilot type of thing. It’s funny to see, but I always cringe,