Catch of the Day (Gideon's Cove #1)(34)

“She could be yours,” Mrs. Banack says, handing the picture to me.

“True enough,” I answer. “I couldn’t love her more if she was.”

We finish up our route and head for home.

“So still no boyfriend,” Christy says as we drive home. I don’t comment. “Any ideas?”

“Not really,” I say, glancing in my rearview mirror. “I think I’ll just give it a rest for a while. I’ve been on four dates in the last month, and none of them worked out very well.”

“You sure? Idle hands are the devil’s workhorse, as Mom would say,” Christy advises somberly. I laugh, but at the back of my mind is Malone and his gently scraping kiss.

When I get home from dropping Christy off, I zip over to the answering machine, hoping to see the blinking light. No blinking. Malone has not called me.

Nor does he call me that evening. The next day is Sunday, and as I flit between tables, clearing and serving, Malone is on my mind. Why hasn’t he called me? Why would he kiss me and then not call me? Should I call him? I shudder at the thought—I wouldn’t be able to see him either nod or stare from my apartment, would I? And since that seems to be his main form of communication, it wouldn’t be much of a conversation.

It’s not that I really like him, I tell myself. Because really, he’s a complete stranger. Almost. I liked kissing him, yes. At the thought, my stomach knots and my knees tingle. The after-church crowd takes their time finishing, and when they’re done with breakfast, the Sunday lunch crowd comes in. Finally, by about two, all my customers are gone. I wipe down with unusual speed, opting to skip the floor-washing. I’ll just wander down to the dock, I think. See how Jonah’s doing. Check on the little brother.

Jonah’s boat is right against the dock, not moored at its usual spot, which is convenient for me. Inconveniently, Malone’s boat is out, so I’ll just have to hang out with my little bro for a while. “Hey, Jonah!” I call down. It’s low tide, so the dock is a good twenty feet lower than it will be six hours from now. Tides in this part of Maine are dramatic, and the gangplank is pitched quite steeply. The smell of fish and salt and tide greet me as I totter down carefully and walk over to Jonah’s boat, which is named Twin Menace after his beloved big sisters. My brother is not in sight.

“Hey, Joe!” I yell.

“Maggie,” he calls back, climbing out of the hold and shutting the door firmly behind him. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, nothing. Permission to come aboard, captain?”

“Um, no. Actually, I’m just leaving. Sorry.”

Drat. “So, do most people go out on a Sunday?” I ask. I’ve never really taken note of the patterns of the lobster boats; it’s something that’s so familiar and constant here that it’s like background noise. During the summer, it’s against the law to haul traps on a Sunday, that I know, but as for the practices of the off-season, I’m clueless.

“Nah. Most of us stay in, even now, I guess.” He glances back at the stern of his boat.

“But some go out?” I prod.

“Ayuh.”

“When do they come back?” I glance casually over the railing at a small school of baby stripers.

“Dunno.”

I sigh. Malone is rubbing off on Jonah, apparently. Usually, my brother won’t stop talking…rather like me, I guess. I give it another try. “So they just come back whenever?”

“Maggie, I just said I don’t know. What’s it to you?”

“Nothing. Just making conversation.”

“Well, I have to tie up, and then I’m going,” he says. “See you.” When I don’t move, he frowns. “Did you want something else?”

“I—No. Sorry. Have a nice day.”

He nods and starts the engine, pulling the Twin Menace away from the dock out to his mooring, then disappears back into the hold, busy with whatever keeps him there.

Clearly, I have to go. I can’t be here when Malone comes in, because that would be too obvious and desperate. Hi, Malone, I’m just hanging around waiting for you. How was your day? Want to kiss me again? I wince and wisely decide to go home.

CHAPTER TEN

MONDAY IS MY DAY OFF, and I use it to clean my apartment and Mrs. K.’s. As I vacuum up her popcorn crumbs, she follows me around carefully, pointing with her cane at parts I’ve missed.

“Right there, Maggie, dear. And gracious! There, too! I can’t get over how sloppy I am!” I smile—she says this every week. When I’m done, I check her fridge and make sure she’s got enough of the barley soup I brought over yesterday.

“Need anything, Mrs. K.?” I ask.

“Dear, I’m fine. But tell me, did you have a friend over the other night?”

I freeze momentarily. “No, no. Just, you know, someone, um, gave me a ride home.”

“I thought it was a man,” she says.

“Well, yes, actually, it was a man. Malone. My brother’s friend.” I hope she doesn’t pick up on my blush.

“Malone? I don’t know anyone by the name of Malone. Is he good people? Should you be driving around late at night with strangers?”

“Well, he’s not really a stranger, Mrs. K., because my brother knows him.”

But of course he is a stranger. And he still hasn’t called me. I looked up his phone number to make sure he has a phone, and he does. Whether he uses it is another question. Again, I can’t imagine why he’d kiss me like that and then just…