Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

Rose

I blink, disoriented, and look up from my laptop. The ache in my neck tells me I’ve been hunched over a screen for far too long. The sky has darkened considerably, painting the harbor in deep purples and golds. Absorbed in my work, I’ve lost all sense of time. Glancing at my watch, I grimace – several hours have slipped by unnoticed.

As if on cue, my stomach growls loudly, reminding me that I haven’t eaten since the picnic with Levi. The memory of our lunch brings a smile, quickly followed by a blush as I think about my handsome guide.

I stretch, working out the kinks in my neck and back, then pack up my computer. The restaurant Levi recommended – The Fish House – seems like the perfect solution to my hunger. Plus, I admit to myself that a small part of me hopes I might run into him there.

After freshening up, I hop into my rental car and drive along the main road hugging the coastline. The Fish House is easy to spot – a weathered, two-story building that looks like it’s been standing against the sea winds for at least a century. Its wood siding, once probably a dark brown, has faded to a weathered, silvery gray. Fishing nets and colorful buoys decorate the exterior, giving it an authentic, rustic charm.

The warmth and aroma of fried fish and savory spices envelop me as I step inside. The interior is cozy and inviting, with worn wooden tables, nautical decor, and large windows offering a spectacular ocean view. Most of the tables are occupied, and a low hum of conversation fills the air.

I feel numerous curious gazes turn my way as I enter. It’s clear I’m not a local; in a small town like this, a new face is bound to draw attention. I meet their looks with a smile and a polite nod, trying not to feel too out of place.

A waitress approaches me, holding a stack of laminated menus, and I can’t help but stare for a moment. There’s something captivating about her that immediately catches my eye. Her skin gleams with an iridescent quality, and I realize she must be wearing some kind of shimmer powder. It’s subtle but unmistakable, giving her an ethereal glow in the low light. Her movements are exceptionally graceful, almost fluid, as she offers me a welcoming smile. Her striking sea glass-green eyes complete the enchanting effect. I wonder why someone who looks like she stepped off a magazine cover is waiting tables in a seaside restaurant, though I can imagine the tips from mesmerized customers must be exceptional.

“Welcome to The Fish House,” she says, her voice melodious. “Table for one?”

I nod, and she leads me to a small table by the window overlooking the rocky coastline below. As I settle in, I look around at the other patrons. The diversity is striking – there’s a group of men at the bar who look like they could be straight out of a Russian novel, with their thick beards and booming laughs. They’re wearing long-sleeved shirts in either white or red with intricate embroidery adorning the hems and cuffs. I can’t help but think they look like a gathering of Tolstoy impersonators, each seemingly competing for the most impressive beard. In one corner, a strikingly attractive young couple speaks in hushed tones, their features sharp and angular. They look like they both just arrived from a fashion show catwalk and look out of place in the rustic restaurant. Near the center of the room, a table of teenage girls catch my eye, most of them with hair dyed in vibrant colors. I’m a little jealous – when I was in my goth phase as a teen, I’d begged my mother to let me dye my hair, but she’d threatened to ground me until I left for college if I’d tried.

A solitary figure hunches over a leather-bound book by a cold, empty hearth. As I look closer, I notice it’s an elderly woman with wild, unkempt gray hair. Her gnarled fingers trace the pages, and when her eyes briefly flick up to meet mine, something cold and hungry gleams in them, making me quickly look away.

I shake my head, scolding myself for letting my imagination run wild. She’s just a normal woman reading a book, not some witch from an old fairy tale – it’s not like she’s about to offer someone a poisoned apple. Still, I can’t quite shake the chill that ran down my spine when our eyes met.

“My name is Cali and I’ll be serving you today. Can I start you off with anything to drink?” the waitress asks, startling me.

“Oh uh… I’m Rose. I’ll just have water for now, thank you,” I reply, trying to recover from my ridiculous spook. “And I’d love to hear your recommendations. It’s my first time here, and I’d love to try something local.”

Her face lights up at my request. “Oh, you’re in for a treat! Our chef’s specialty is the clam chowder – it’s a creamy New England-style chowder that’s absolutely to die for. And if you’re up for it, the Fisherman’s Platter is amazing – it’s a generous portion of fried haddock, scallops, and whole belly clams. We’ve also got a great lobster roll if you’re in the mood for something classic or our baked stuffed cod if you prefer something lighter. And don’t forget to check out our daily specials – today we’ve got a fantastic grilled swordfish with lemon caper sauce.”

My stomach growls at the thought of all the delicious-sounding food. “That all sounds wonderful. I’ll try the chowder and… a lobster roll.”

As I wait for my food, the door chimes, and a familiar figure enters – Koko. The atmosphere in the restaurant shifts immediately. It’s as if a celebrity has walked in; every head turns, and a chorus of greetings rings out. Koko moves through the room with an effortless grace, stopping at nearly every table to chat, laugh, or place a friendly hand on someone’s shoulder.

“Evening, Koko,” Cali calls out. “Your usual table?”

Before Koko can respond, a cheerful voice calls out from a nearby table. “Mayor! Why don’t you join us for dinner?”

I glance over to see a middle-aged man enthusiastically waving at Koko. His dining companion nods in agreement and gestures to an empty chair at their table.

“Not tonight, gentlemen,” Koko replies with a warm smile. “Just picking up an order for home. But I appreciate the offer.”

Mayor? I wonder if he means that literally or if it’s just an affectionate nickname. Given how she seems to know everyone, it could be either.

My food arrives, momentarily distracting me from the Koko show. The chowder is indeed heavenly – rich and creamy, with a blend of spices that make my empty stomach roar in delight. The lobster roll is perfect, tender, and flavorful. As I savor each bite, I find my eyes continually drawn to the door, half-hoping to see Levi enter. But as I finish my meal and pay the bill, I admit to myself that he’s not coming.

The drive back to my houseboat is short, and as I park, I’m not quite ready to go inside. The night is beautiful – clear and crisp, with a sky full of stars that I never get to see in the city. On impulse, I grab the bottle of wine that Koko gave me yesterday and head out to the small deck of my houseboat.

I pour myself a glass and sit on the edge of the deck, dangling my feet in the cool water. The gentle lapping of waves against the hull is soothing, and I find myself relaxing completely. The wine is full-bodied and fruity, perfectly complementing the salty sea air.

As I sit there, enjoying the peacefulness of the night, I hear a soft splash somewhere off to my left. It’s probably just a fish, but I can’t shake the sudden sensation of being watched. A shiver runs down my spine.

Pulling my feet out of the water, I peer into the darkness, trying to make out shapes in the water, but the inky blackness reveals nothing. An uneasy feeling creeps over me as my mind races with possibilities. What lurks beneath those shadowed waves? Would a shark venture into the harbor? Then, my mind unhelpfully conjures an image of a massive jellyfish drifting silently beneath my feet. But a jellyfish wouldn’t make a splash like I’d heard. I shake myself, knowing it was probably something innocuous, like a bird dropping something. Or maybe it’s something adorable like a harbor seal. As my imagination goes into overdrive, the harbor seems less like a haven and more like a concealing cloak for nature’s most dangerous predators.

I take another sip of wine, letting the flavor roll over my tongue as I force myself to stop imagining worst-case scenarios. I make myself look around and enjoy my surroundings. Lublin Harbor, with its charming locals, welcoming atmosphere, and, of course, the enigmatic Levi, has already exceeded my wildest hopes. No sea monster is waiting below to snatch me into the ocean’s dark depths and make a meal out of me.

I steer my thoughts toward brighter things, like tomorrow’s fishing trip with Levi. I can almost see him showing me how to cast, his hands on mine, patient and sure. The dawn will splash the sky with colors I’m already itching to capture on canvas. Warmth blooms in my chest – partly for the adventure ahead, but mostly, if I’m honest with myself, for the hours I’ll spend with Levi. When I look toward his houseboat, I find only darkness and silence.

I finish my wine and stand up, stretching languidly. Just as I’m about to head inside, something draws my gaze back to the water. For a split second, beneath the water’s surface, two eyes gleam in the moonlight. I blink, and the vision is gone, leaving me to wonder if it was just my imagination playing tricks on me. It was probably a big fish or a trick of the light on the water.

Shaking my head at my overactive imagination, I head inside to prepare for bed. As I set my alarm for the early morning wake-up, I can’t help but smile. I’m eager for tomorrow’s adventure. And if my plans happen to involve spending time with a particular blond, blue-eyed tour guide, well… that’s just a bonus.

I drift off to sleep with the gentle rocking of the houseboat, my dreams filled with images of the day’s experiences – the shimmering water, the lively town, and the endless expanse of the sea stretching out to the horizon.