Page 41 of Life, Love and the Pursuit of Happiness

She nodded.

He turned to walk toward the building, before she had a chance to change her mind, which he knew she would if given a chance, especially since she was muttering, “This is so not a good idea.”

“I beg to differ, babe,” he said to himself as he continued walking from the parking lot into the building where Harry was waiting to update him on the business.

“For a guy who hasn’t hit pay dirt, you sure are looking happy,” Harry remarked from where he sat behind Merrill’s desk. His wheelchair was off to the side, which was a good sign that Harry was regaining some of the strength in his legs.

Merrill sank down into a chair in front of the desk. “There’s pay dirt, and then there’s pay dirt.”

“Aaah.”

“Know any good restaurants for a date?”

Instead of teasing him, as one of his buddies would, Harry took his question seriously. “Well, considering the time it would take to go out of town with the ferries and all, and considering that you wouldn’t be able to drink if you’re driving, your best bet would be to stick around Bell Cove. Nothing wrong with the Cracked Crab.”

“I suppose, but we’d run into everybody in town who’ll want to stop and chat. About our progress on the boat and Delilah’s diner, and—”

“Ah. So, it’s Delilah, huh? Interesting. I thought her name was Lilah.”

“She prefers to go by that nickname. Anyhow, you know how the busybodies will be swarming . . . and I mean busybodies in the kindest way.”

“You could always call ahead and ask Tony to reserve you a table in the back of the room. You know Tony, don’t you?”

He nodded. He’d met Tony Bonfatto, the owner, when he was here last Christmas. His restaurant featured a mix of Italian and beach seafood entrées. A great wine list. And a live band out on the deck, with a tiny space for dancing. “Good idea. Thanks!”

He and Harry spent the next hour going over bills, estimated future expenses, and correspondence.

“Did you see this letter from Joel Bastian, the guy up the Blue Ridge mountains who claims to have emeralds on his property the size of golf balls? Looking for someone reputable to help him dig up one section.”

Merrill arched his brows. “Why us?”

“Well, most speculators would come in with heavy equipment and upheave the terrain. Mr. Bastian doesn’t want his land destroyed, and the state wouldn’t allow it. Plus, it’s a really remote, inaccessible area. No real roads.”

Merrill’s eyes went wide. “He would want us to dig, by hand?”

“Pretty much.” Harry chuckled. “The thing is, North Carolina really does have as much treasure in the ground as it does in shipwrecks off its coast. Something about the geology that creates gems, just like the ones you find in South America and Africa.”

“Now that you mention it, I read something about a farmer on the other side of Charlotte who found a huge emerald worth a million bucks.”

“Anyhow, I only mention this as something to consider for the future. You need a master plan for your company. Whether you are successful with this particular salvaging operation or not, you need to make a decision about whether you want to concentrate only on shipwreck salvaging or diversify into other treasure hunting arenas, like Jinx did. Gold mines, cave pearls, whatever.”

“I’m not sure, but it’s something to think about.”

“And here’s something else to ponder. If you do decide to branch out, you might want to increase your workforce. Perhaps delegate one person to head shipwreck salvaging. Another to concentrate on land treasures. And so on.”

“Do I want to become so big?”

“I don’t know. Do you?”

“I just moved to Bell Cove. Seems like I should wet my feet in this region first.”

“You could do that with Bell Cove as your headquarters and perhaps just venture into North Carolina jobs, at first.”

“Keep track of all the inquiries we have, along with those passed on to us by Jinx. Once we’ve made headway with the Three Saints, we can have a brainstorming meeting.”

Merrill was about to drive Delilah’s motorcycle over to the Patterson house, where a hot shower and change of clothes would be welcome. His skin felt crusty from the saltwater dives, and he hadn’t shaved in days.

Before he left, Harry called out, “Good luck tonight.”