Page 23 of Life, Love and the Pursuit of Happiness

She was already making notes as she counted plates and cutlery and cooking supplies. “Despite the basics already here, it looks like I’m going to have to do some shopping, more than I expected,” she remarked, running a finger over one large frying pan and grimacing. Apparently it wasn’t as clean as it should be.

He sat down on one of the stools and pulled his wallet out of his back pocket. Laying a credit card on the counter, he said, “Use this for anything you need to buy. Keep receipts and hand them over to Harry, but in the meantime get whatever you think we need.”

“How long will we be out on the boat at any one time?”

“Hard to say. At least a week. A cabin cruiser is available for emergency transport of anyone needing to get to shore quickly. We’re only five miles out, but I don’t want people going back and forth every day. It would cost too much, be disruptive to our routine, and leave us undermanned in the event pirate salvagers show up on the scene.”

“Hard to believe, in this day and age, that pirates still exist.”

“Oh, yeah. In fact, the smaller boat stays on-site at those times when we need to come into the pump station to empty waste, or to the warehouse to replenish our fresh water tanks or food supplies.”

“And the number of people on board?”

“Plan on eight, but there might not always be that many.”

“Bulk ordering makes sense for nonperishable food, of course. Lots more than you already bought. Can boxes be stored in your warehouse?”

“Sure.”

“At some point, a large freezer might make sense, too. For the warehouse. Would save on trips to a supermarket. And be more cost efficient.”

“Let’s put that on the back burner, for now. There’s another issue we need to discuss. Your transportation.”

“What?” Just like that, she tightened up again.

Does she ever loosen up? Relax a little. Have sex? Oops, I mean have a hobby or something? “How did you get the coffeepot, coffee, milk, sugar, pastries, mugs, and stuff to the office today?”

She blushed. “On my motorcycle.”

He arched his brows.

“A backpack, side saddles, and a little ingenious shelf I rigged to the back fender.”

“That’s what I thought. I appreciate the effort, by the way, and so did everyone else. Your buns are outstanding.”

She nodded an acceptance of his compliment, although she wasn’t altogether sure which buns he referred to.

He wasn’t, either.

“Okay, here’s the deal. For the next few days, you and I are going to do a swap. My pickup truck for your cycle.”

She started to protest.

But he raised a halting hand. “No, don’t worry about me. I’m willing to make the sacrifice. You get a vehicle to cart all the supplies you need, and me”—he sighed dramatically—“I’ll just have to suffer on a 1978 Harley FLHS Electra-Glide.”

She laughed. “Okay. For a few days.”

“Anyhow, go peek in the three sleeping quarters and the head. You’ll see stacked berths for four in two of them, what are usually called bunk beds, and a double-size alcove berth in the ‘captain’s quarters,’ which I have every intention of claiming for myself. You and Charlie and Bonita will share one room. Up to four of the guys in the other, unless someone wants to sleep in the salon.”

“Is there a washer and dryer on board?”

“Nope. That means we’ll need at least two sets of bed linens and a bunch of towels. I did buy some, but you’ll need to check them out.”

She quickly added linens and towels to the growing list on her notepad.

“By the end of the first week, we may all be smelling a bit ripe, although a quick dip in the ocean should handle that.” At the look of horror on her face, he added, “For some of us.”

“I can swim, before you ask,” she said defensively, “but swimming with the sharks . . .” She shivered in an exaggerated fashion.