Doug finished shoving a bait bag into a trap before answering. “I have a friend who uses my boat to go fishing sometimes. He pays me with portions of his catch. I grill up some of it and when there’s too much, I stick it in the freezer for other uses.”
“What kind of fish?”
“Mackerel, bluefish or striper, mostly.” He rubbed his belly. “I love me some bluefish on the grill. But enough is enough sometimes. Like I said, I’m single. A man can only eat so much.”
Cal studied him. His neck between his hairline and collar was tanned, and the stubble that had appeared on his chin glinted in the sun. The light hairs streaking down his brown arms, ended at a horizontal scar on the top of his wrist. His T-shirt was spattered with salt water, his cut-off shorts bleached blue-white. It occurred to her that other than with Jack all those years ago, she’d never been boating with someone who didn’t dress in white-soled boat shoes and nautical Polos. She glanced down at her linen capris, now wrinkled and speckled from the salt water spray. Turning her attention to Doug and Will, she realized that while they hadn’t touched each other since the high five on the dock, they worked together without words, in a rhythm only possible between two people who had known each other forever.
The lawyer caught her staring. “Something on your mind?”
Cal lifted a shoulder and dropped it. “Lots of sharing going on. You take care of your late friend’s son. You give your lobster away and get meals in return. Your friend uses your boat and you end up with bate. It’s just different.”
“Different than what?”