Page 34 of Life, Love and the Pursuit of Happiness

Which prompted Laura to put her iPad and iPhone in a laptop bag, which she set on a bench seat, and then launch into a perfectly executed shag, complete with intricate dance steps, dips of the knees, and twirls. She ended with a bow to each of them and laughed. “Now that’s the way it’s done!”

Delilah loved to dance, or at least she used to. How could she not, growing up with a grandmother who had been a showgirl and was always teaching her the moves? But she’d stopped dancing, she realized now, back when her world had started to fall apart. To her, dance had always represented joy, and there had been little of that. Until now. She liked how comfortable she felt with these women.

Not at all the way she’d felt about her fellow inmates at Edna Mahan, where you could never trust anyone, even a cell mate, who would give you the shaft for the least favor from a guard. And, yes, the women danced with each other on those rare breaks where music was played. But it had been a sad kind of dancing. Desperate, even.

But that was then, and this was now.

Delilah started to smile, perhaps with a smidgen of hope, as she participated in the high fives being exchanged among the new women in her life, but then they heard a loud blast of noise coming from outside. Pounding drums, then the melodious marching band version of “Anchors Aweigh.”

“What is that?” Charlie asked.

“It appears that Mayor Ferguson got the high school band to come on short notice. I knew she was trying,” Laura said, grabbing for her laptop bag.

“I thought there was only going to be the usual good luck and bon voyage speech by the mayor, and a song or two by the St. Andrew’s and Our Lady youth bell choirs,” Bonita remarked.

“Does Bell Cove ever do anything in the usual way?” Laura asked.

“You’ve got a point there,” Bonita said. “Case in point—last year’s Christmas Grinch affair, and more recently the Stars and Stripes wedding.”

“Well, ‘Anchors Aweigh’ is probably appropriate,” Charlie conceded, “considering that we’re going to be lifting anchor, if we ever get this friggin’ show on the road . . . high seas. We’re wastin’ fuel idling here.”

“The song’s appropriate also because of Merrill’s Navy background, I suppose,” Delilah added.

Just then, a male voice yelled out, “Atten-shun!”

“Oh, my God! Doreen must have gotten the VFW guys to come out for a three-gun salute,” Laura said. “Those old codgers are about eighty years old and haven’t shot a gun since the Korean War. Everybody better duck.”

Yep. Bam! Bam! Bam! Bam! Bam!

One of them was trigger-happy, or forgot how to count.

They all rushed to get up the hatchway then to see what was going on.

Merrill and the rest of the team—Adam, Gus, Gabriel Conti, the architect who owned Bell Forge, and Harry using a walker today—looked like deer caught in the headlights. Obviously, they were as shocked as the rest of them by this turn of events.

As expected, two dozen folding chairs, occupied by various town folks, were arranged on the wharf before a podium with a microphone, and two clergymen, presumably from Our Lady and St. Andrew’s, stood by, ready to give a blessing. But off to one side was the now-silent high school band, preparing to start up again. And to the other side, a half dozen senior citizen soldiers stood at attention with rifles. A red, white, and blue banner and other leftover Fourth of July decorations now adorned the bay side of the Bell Forge building. A satellite truck with the logo NBX-TV was parked in the lot.

And then the band launched into a new song, Lady Gaga’s “Just Dance,” with a strange accompaniment of bells, and the Shell Shore Dance Team came marching onto the scene with some of the scantily clad girls twirling batons and others doing gymnastic-type dance moves. What they had to do with a treasure hunting boat launch was beyond Delilah.

Just then, she noticed two well-dressed couples at the edge of the crowd, who glanced around with distaste at all the goings-on, and turned as one to walk away. Probably tourists.

Meanwhile, some others in the audience stood in front of their chairs and danced, too. Some of them might be from Mildred Patterson’s dance club.

“This is outrageous,” Charlie said.

“This is . . . mind-boggling,” Delilah said.

“This is wonderful,” Bonita said.

“This is Bell Cove,” Laura said.

And that about said it all.

Dare he hope for a shipboard romance . . . ?

Merrill was appalled. And he was oddly touched.

Appalled, because when he’d agreed to Mayor Doreen Ferguson’s suggestion of a launch ceremony for Bell Cove Treasure and Salvaging Company, he’d imagined a short speech by the mayor. Accompanied by maybe the breaking of a champagne bottle inside a mesh bag against the hull of the boat. But, no, that was for the launch of a new ship, a christening, wasn’t it?