“You’re not defined by his actions any more than he’s defined by yours. Every man is responsible for holding his own. From the sound of it, Jaxon made his bed a long time ago. Letting him lie in it doesn’t make you a bad person. It just means he’s getting his comeuppance.”
We lapse into silence for a moment, both lost in our own thoughts as we stare out at the water. After a long stretch, I glance over at him.
“There really should’ve been a sunset and a swelling musical score to accompany that motivational speech.”
“Wiseass.” His lips twitch. “Anyway. I didn’t drag you down here to give you advice.”
“Oh? Then why am I here, exactly?”
“Just wanted to see how you were.”
“Really?”
“Don’t sound so surprised. You’ll wound my delicate sensibilities.”
I snort. “Apologies.”
“Heard Dee Hayward offered you a position on his crew.”
“Guess word really does get around these docks.”
“You planning to take him up on his offer?”
“I don’t exactly have many other job opportunities knocking on my door. I was planning on heading over to talk to him this afternoon.”
“Before you do that…” His tone is casual. “I might have something better for you.”
My brows skyrocket. “What do you mean?”
“Easier to show you than explain.” He pushes to his feet, his arthritic limbs stiff. “Come on, kid.”
* * *
Tommy leads me down the docks, heading for the Ebenezer’s old slip. My curiosity mounts as we approach and I see, in place of the battered vessel, there’s an unfamiliar lobster boat bobbing gently against the tide. She looks fresh off the assembly line, with a coat of bright yellow paint — closer in shade to a cheery sunflower than the dull mustard of her predecessor — gleaming in the mid afternoon light and newly purchased lines holding all forty-plus feet of her in place. My eye catches on the metallic glint of a brand new electric pulley system hanging over her starboard side, designed to haul in traps at the push of a button. New aerator tanks line the stern, awaiting her first haul.
I whistle lowly as I take in the sight. “Wow.”
“Gorgeous, ain’t she?”
“Nicest boat in the harbor by a mile, Tommy. Not even Deacon Hayward’s rig can hold a candle to her.”
“Glad you think so.”
I glance over at him, bemused. “So all that talk about retirement was a bunch of crap, then?”
“Nah. She’s not for me.”
My brows arch. “Oh?”
“She’s yours.”
I start in shock. “Come again?”
“You heard me.” He jerks his chin toward the shiny yellow boat. “She’s all yours, kid. Courtesy of the fine folks at my insurance agency. Turns out, the Ebenezer made me more money by sinking than she ever did in high season.”
“But Tommy, that’s your money.”
“I have more money than I need already and no one left to spend it on. What am I going to do with a stack of bills? Wipe my ass with them?”