“Don’t pull too hard, you’ll pull the hook out,” John suggested.
“What the hell do you know about fishing?” Gordon snapped.
“Okay, bring it in… slowly. Slowly.” Cooper was at Gordon’s side, encouraging him.
“This bloke is strong.” Joy and concern were mingled on Gordon’s face.
John moved closer. “Can I help?”
“Yes. Get away,” Gordon snapped.
John put his hands up and backed away.
He sat and watched as the battle raged for another few minutes. The sun was hot, the boat was rocking, and he was feeling sick. He wanted this morning to be over.
Cooper was calling out encouragement, telling Gordon to “give him line,” when, in a great moment of anticlimax, the line broke. The boat rocked in aftershock.
“Bollocks!” Gordon shouted, catching his balance.
Out on the water, the line floated pitifully on the surface, the fish long gone. The three men watched the ripple in the water, all that was left of the battle.
“It’s all right,” Cooper said, bending over the side of the boat to reel in the lost line. “It happens.”
“Yeah,” John said, and looked up from the water. “Sometimes they just get away.”
chapter fifteen
Only one thing matters in life. Family.
WHILE THE GUYS were fishing, the women were organizing their new clubroom with the remnant furniture, lamps, and other miscellany from the goods they’d kept. The joggling board remained against the side wall beneath the shark. Though they hadn’t won the Instagram challenge—John had declared that they were robbed—photographs of them surfing the joggling board had been framed and put on the wall behind the board.
Pandora, Anna, and Linnea grunted under the weight of the large, ruined oriental rug but finally got it spread out in the center of the room. Though the magenta and blue still looked vibrant, the carpet was laced with holes.
“What a shame,” Pandora said, looking at it. “This carpet must have been magnificent in its day.”
“Shitty mice,” said Anna. “They chewed the fibers with their sharp little teeth to build their nests.”
“I’m just thankful we didn’t find any mice—or rats,” said Linnea. They had rented a machine from the hardware store and washed this carpet and three others they’d found in similar shape. “Let’s get the table.”
Together, they moved the large mahogany dining table into the middle of the room, then added a second, smaller table to its end to create a length of over twelve feet that would accommodate the entire pod. They’d also discovered a mismatched assortment of chairs—some wrought iron, some wood with embroidered seats. These were set around the table. Linnea had laid claim to the two vintage wicker rocking chairs but agreed to temporarily put them in the barn to create a reading corner beside small tables and lamps. Miranda’s large armoire placed against the wall was still crammed full of art supplies, and now board games as well. Gordon had purchased a refrigerator as his contribution. John bought two large rotating fans that when strategically placed kept the air circulating. Cooper and Anna had gone to the Goodwill and found a sofa that would last the season.
Linnea put her hands on her hips and thought that, all in all, their pod/fort was coming along nicely.
Pandora took a long breath, then plucked the blue rubber gloves from her hands. “I’m knackered. We’ve been at this for hours. The boys are out fishing. What’s wrong with this picture? I quit.”
“You can’t quit yet,” Anna protested. “We’re almost done.”
“I am done, my hardworking friend. Your kin may have been laborers, but mine were not. These hands were not meant for manual work. Look at my nails!” she cried. “They’re ruined. And I can’t even get a bloody manicure these days. I hate this damned pandemic.”
“If you’re done with your hissy fit,” Linnea said, walking to the fridge, “let’s all take a break. I just had a brilliant idea I’d like to share with you. Go on,” she prodded when no one moved. “Sit down at our beautiful table and I’ll grab some bubble water.”
“Put vodka in mine, please,” Pandora called out.
“I will if you buy some.”
As Pandora and Anna obliged, Linnea opened the fridge with Luna at her heels. Whenever a fridge opened, the puppy was hopeful. Linnea had begged people to stop feeding her treats, to no avail. Luna was becoming as bad a beggar as the worst dolphin at a dock. With her large, melting brown eyes, no one could refuse her.
“Sorry, girl, there’s nothing in here you’d like,” she said, scooping up three bottles of sparkling water. “Your water is right there,” she said, bending to point out the water. Luna was not interested.
On the way to the table, Linnea grabbed a few pens and a yellow legal pad from the rocker where she’d been sitting earlier while putting together her to-do list. After distributing the bottles of water, she took a seat at the table. Luna begged to come in her lap, but after a firm “no” she settled with a snort at Linnea’s feet.
Pandora and Anna opened their waters.
“What’s on your mind?” Anna asked.
“We need a party,” Linnea announced.
Pandora brightened. “A party? Now, that’s an idea.”
“What’s a party?” Anna asked. “It’s been so long.”
“I know, right?” Pandora said, and the two women clinked bottles.
“What kind of party?” asked Anna before taking a sip.
“Does it matter?” asked Pandora. “Alcohol and party favors. I’m in.”
“Well,” Linnea said with exaggeration, pressing on, “the Fourth of July is coming up. I was thinking, let’s have a good old-fashioned Southern barbecue to welcome our English friends. We can only invite the pod, of course, but that will be enough to fill our grand table.”
“There’s that box of china,” Pandora said, getting into the spirit.
“Let’s use paper,” Anna countered. “No one wants to do all those dishes. Plus, duh, there’s no kitchen. We’d have to schlep dishes across to the house.”
Pandora’s face fell. “I hate paper plates.”
“Why would anyone hate paper plates? Use them, dump them, no headache and no extra work,” said Anna. Then, in a lower voice, “If we could only do that with men.”
Pandora’s mouth twisted to a grin and she eyed Anna with new appreciation.
“Sorry, but no paper plates. It’s a waste of paper,” Linnea said firmly. “We’ll use the china and do it proper. Nathalie Dupree, the quintessential Southern chef, gave my mother a nugget of great information for parties. She said to keep a cooler of soapy water in the kitchen, and you just dump all those dishes and pots in there to soak. We’ll do that.” She raised her bottle of water. “We’re having a party!”
Her enthusiasm was infectious. Before they’d finished their bottles of bubble water, they’d begun long lists of family favorite recipes to prepare, because everyone knew a good barbecue wasn’t worth its salt without an impressive spread of home-cooked side dishes.