“Is his health okay?” He was thinking of her diligence in making sure Art took his many pills.
“If he went to the doctor, I could answer that,” she said with exasperation. “He’s eighty-four. Every time he goes, they tell him something else needs watching. Blood pressure, thyroid, cholesterol, blood sugar….” She shrugged. “He gets bummed about his limitations. Hopefully, being in the store gives him a sense of purpose. I kind of wish I’d thought of it, to be honest.” She circled her desk and tapped to wake up her computer, then pulled the folder closer. “Did you see the fuel surcharge on this one?” She waved an invoice at him. “High seas piracy.”
They were done with personal talk, Logan surmised.
“Lemme see.” He took it and sipped his coffee, then spit it back into his cup. “I can’t do it. I’m going to the coffee shop for a red eye. You want one?”
“No, thanks.”
By the time he got back, she’d been called down to a charter yacht with an oil leak.
*
It was a typical Monday where everything went sideways and time disappeared before Sophie knew where it had gone. She briefly saw Gramps in the store, when she stopped in for a part. Otherwise, she’d been run off her feet all day with repairs, big and small.
By the time she climbed the stairs to the marina office again, planning to sit down at her desk and finish those invoices, Biyen was there, talking to Logan. He was at the desk working through the invoices himself. Or trying to.
“Some dinosaurs lived for three hundred years,” Biyen informed him.
“You’re fibbing me.”
“No. It’s in my book. I’ll show you when we get home.”
“You sure love dinosaurs. Why is that?”
“That’s a good question.” Biyen pinched his chin as he deliberated. “I don’t think I’ve ever thought about it.”
Logan looked at Sophie, expression bemused.
Biyen provoked that reaction a lot. Some people called kids like him an old soul, but Sophie liked to think he was just a bright kid who hadn’t been devastated by life yet. He led with his heart because it hadn’t been broken.
“Hi, Mom. Did you ask Emma?” were the first words out of his mouth.
“Rats. I forgot.” She came to the desk, hit the button for speakerphone, then the speed dial button labeled WILF HOME.
“G’day,” Emma answered after one ring.
“It’s me. Biyen is wondering if the kids want to play?”
“They’ve been asking about him all day. Send him over.”
“He just got off school. He hasn’t had a snack.”
“I’ll start a box of mac and cheese.”
“You’re a lifesaver.”
“No worries.”
“Thanks, Mom.” Biyen dumped his backpack on the floor and ran down the stairs.
“I’ll take that home myself, then?” she said to the door he’d left open.
She didn’t mind too much. She worked a lot in the summer and felt less guilty about it when Biyen was playing with friends. Also, he hadn’t eaten his apple. She washed it along with her hands and crunched into it.
While she ate, she perched on the stool by the other computer and began filling out work orders, matching her hours to vessel names and registrations so accounting could bill for them.
“Busy day?” Logan asked.
“Mm. I should tell you about this one nugget…” She spun on the stool. “Since he might complain. He called me down first thing with low oil pressure. I pretended we didn’t have the part on hand because he was solidly drunk. He reeked and could barely stand upright. I said he’d have to wait for it to come in tomorrow, but he staggered up here and of course Kenneth sold it to him. Gramps wasn’t there yet. Anyway, he tried to install it himself and made it worse.”
“’Course.” Logan nodded.
“So I genuinely did have to machine something at that point. I kept it under a hundred dollars, but he was super pissed. I left him trying to install it and warned the dock master that he shouldn’t be piloting anything until he sobers up, but…” She shrugged. It was the coast guard’s job to fine him if he was drunk on the water, not hers.
“See, I thought I had won Prick of the Day with a contractor who literally told me to fuck myself.”
“You hear that so often, you think it’s a term of endearment,” she scoffed, then couldn’t help continuing the joke. “Seriously, if you think that earns you a beer, I owe you one for every day you’ve been back. I say it all the time. Usually under my breath, but still.”
“Are you vying for Employee of the Month?” he asked, cocking his head and narrowing his eyes in suspicion.
“Ooh, why have we never had that?” she asked with excited discovery.
Prick of the Day was a longstanding tradition. Wilf had often bought a beer for whichever employee had the worst run in with a snotty tourist or grumpy fisherman. As far as Sophie could figure, it had been Wilf’s attempt to get someone to buy him a beer, but it had also been a way to let off steam and bond with other marina and resort staff while venting a crummy experience.
It wasn’t always a customer or tourist who ruined your day, though.
“Did you know there was a woman working in the grocery store last year who was drinking from the bottles of liquor behind the counter? She topped them up with water, then sold them. She never did it to locals, but someone called from Alaska to say they’d just opened a bottle of gin that was pure water. She’s the employee to beat. I don’t think I can do it, sadly.”
