Chapter 6: The Lunchbox

Cass's POV

The Anchor Tavern opened at eleven.

By noon I had poured eight beers, sliced two limes, and kicked a regular out for saying my sister was a liar.

He was a nice man most days.

He just liked Bernadette.

Everybody in Port Ansel liked Bernadette, because she paid for the Christmas tree in the square.

My phone buzzed against the bar, and it was Dell.

She didn't say hi.

"I'm fired," she said.

"From what?"

"The catering company. The Judge's office called my manager. They told him I have a theft record."

I put down the lime knife.

"Where are you?"

"In a courthouse parking lot in my car, which I'm not sure I can pay the insurance on," she said.

"Come to the bar."

"I can't stand in a bar right now," she said.

"Then come sit in it. Dell. I'll make you a grilled cheese."

She laughed, a wet, ugly laugh, and hung up.

I stood there with the dishrag in my hand.

The Judge had been to our Christmas pageants.

He had given me a candy cane every December until I was twelve.

After that it was a twenty-dollar bill in a card, because he thought I was quiet.

I had liked him.

That was the part that made my skin crawl.

The owner of the tavern came out of the back at one and told me to take my break.

I took off my apron and drove to the marina instead.

Gorski Marina sat at the end of Dock Road.

It was a long gray shed with forty slips, a gas pump and a sign shaped like an anchor.

I hadn't been there since I was a kid.

A dozen men in rain gear stood around a hull on a trailer.

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