4. Galvin

galvin

. . .

W hen the clock struck ten, Galvin slid her timecard through the slot and waited only seconds for the automated machine to print across the card. She put it back in the slot along with the other cards and began untying her apron as she headed toward the back door. Having clocked in at six in the morning, she jumped at the opportunity to pick up another shift, even though she was exhausted. The tips in her pocket proved the ache in her back and feet had been worth it.

Before she could leave, Rocky, the head cook, called her name. Galvin went over to him, feeling exhausted. He handed her a takeout container.

“What’s this?”

“Dinner,” he told her. “We had a special left over, and I saw you eyeing it earlier.”

She had, indeed, eyed the spaghetti and meatball special. It wasn’t until she was living on her own had she realized how much she missed a home-cooked meal. Not that her father cooked well, but he tried, and it was something she’d taken for granted.

Galvin popped the lid and inhaled the marinara sauce, rich with a robust blend of ripe tomatoes, garlic, basil, and oregano. She would’ve never thought to find something so appetizing at a diner, but she guessed this was why Carter’s stood out from others. The minute you walked in, you automatically assumed this was nothing more than a burger, fries, and milkshake joint. During the day, that was exactly what you got. But during dinner, it was classier while still keeping the diner vibe.

“Thank you.” Even though Carter’s allowed their employees a free meal during their shift, they’d been so busy she didn’t have enough time to take a full break. She hadn’t minded because she was being paid, and Penny didn’t care if the staff snuck in back for a quick snack.

Galvin carried her dinner down the hall. She pushed open the door and inhaled the cool night air. It had rained earlier, and everything was still damp, despite the sun coming out shortly after the burst of showers rolled through town. The bright rainbow shined through the windows directly after, casting the patrons near the windows in gold, pink, and blue hues. Everyone quieted and stopped eating to take in the majestic moment. Even the staff paused.

At the top of the stairs, she unlocked her door and went inside. For a moment, she lingered there and took everything in. This studio was home. In the week she’d been in Seaport, she was more than comfortable. Most importantly, it was affordable thanks to her father’s relationship with Jack Carter. Now, all she had to do was get out and experience the town. She would, once she had a day off, and wasn’t exhausted. Galvin was going to have to overcome this new level of tiredness if she was going to go to law school and work. With the amount of loans needed to take out, she had no choice but to work.

She set her dinner down on the counter and stripped out of her workwear on her way to the shower. The one drawback to where she lived was it was a studio and small, but she didn’t mind. As soon as her first paycheck hit her bank account, she was buying bookshelves to use as a wall, to give herself some type of bedroom. She figured building them would be a good fall project.

After her shower, she towel dried her hair and used the necessary products she found on various advertisements that would undoubtedly give her voluminous hair. Then she braided it to give it a natural-looking wave. Her clothing of choice was her favorite shorts and T-shirt pajama set, something she loved wearing. They made her feel feminine and put together, even though no one would see them but her. Of course, she had sweats on standby when she desired more warmth.

With her place being so small, it didn’t take long for the aroma of her dinner to make its way to her. She padded to the kitchen, bare-footed, and opened the container. Galvin took a deep, satisfying inhale and laughed when her stomach growled.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll feed you,” she said as she pulled the pile of pasta toward her. She blindly reached for a fork after pulling the drawer open, stabbed and twisted the pasta, and froze when her hand was halfway to her mouth. Her stomach protested.

Outside, on the picnic bench, lay a body. From where she stood in her kitchen, she couldn’t tell if it belonged to a man or woman. Their torso lay on the table, while their legs bent at their knees and dangled toward the ground, swaying back and forth. Galvin tilted her head, trying to see the person's head, but couldn’t.

Were they dead?

Was Carter’s Diner the site of a murder?

What had her father gotten her into?

Her stomach made a loud, obscene noise, demanding some sort of sustenance. She put the fork in her mouth and hummed in satisfaction. The sweet, ripened tomatoes used for the sauce tasted heavenly, and the garlic wasn’t overpowering. It was easy to see why everyone in town loved the diner and no one on the island treated it like a tourist trap. The food, ambiance, and general feeling of Carter’s Diner was what brought everyone back. Even after her short time here, she already knew a couple of the regulars.

She took another bite while she studied the body on the picnic table, contemplating what she should do. Obviously, calling the police needed to happen, but should she call Jack or Penny? Or both? Or should she go out there and poke the person with the end of her broom? Maybe he or she was drunk and sleeping it off.

“No, Galvin, they’re likely dead.”

Even as she said the words, she wasn’t entirely sure she believed herself. She took another bite, set the fork down, and took a few steps toward her sofa where her sweatshirt was. After slipping it over her torso, she went to the back door, gripped her broom, and swung the door open.

In the courtyard, there were strings of white lights illuminating the area. They weren’t those tiny fairy lights, but the bigger bulbs people often used in their backyard to give off the perfect glow. She and her dad had strung some a few years back. During the summer, they would sit out on their patio, make s’mores in the fire, and talk about how Galvin’s mom would’ve loved this or that.

Galvin wasn’t so sure.

On her platform, she stood, eyeing the person on the table. Resigned, she took a deep inhale. “Hey, are you okay?”

No answer.

She yelled a bit louder, but not loud enough to draw the attention of anyone who may be walking by.

Again, no answer.

“Crap on a cracker,” she muttered as she made her way down the stairs. As soon as she hit the bottom step, she realized she left her phone in her apartment. She looked back at her door and then at the person on the table. She squinted, taking in the form.

“Hey, you can’t be here,” she said as soon as realized it was the guy from earlier, the one who had ordered the club sandwich, after telling her he had the menu memorized but had no idea about dipping sauces.

“Hey,” she yelled, louder this time. With her broom handle solidly in her hand, she stepped forward and jabbed him in his side. His head turned and his eyes opened. She gasped.

“You need to leave before I call the police.”

He huffed out a chuckle. “You need to leave.”

How freaking rude .

“I live here and you’re trespassing,” she told him. “The restaurant is closing soon and . . .” And what, exactly? “You know what, never mind. I’m calling the cops.”

The man sat up quickly. “Wait, don’t do that, Galvin.”

“Then leave,” she said, pointing toward the door. “You’re not supposed to be here, and it’s creepy.”

He laughed. “I can be here.”

“No, you can’t. Mr. Carter was very clear about this space being for employees only. You’re not an employee.”

“True, but I am a Carter,” he told her.

She sighed heavily accepting she couldn’t win this challenge. “Okay?”

He slid off the table and came toward her. For about ten seconds, she got lost in him. Her eyes traveled from his shoes, up his legs, body, and finally to his face. He was tall, lean, and muscular, with dark short hair. It was too dark to tell what color his eyes were, but from what she recalled from earlier, they were blue. As blue as the ocean, which she thought was cheesy, considering where they were.

Galvin maneuvered the broom handle between them, stopping him in his tracks. “Stay there.”

“You’re paranoid.”

“You’re a stranger and, again, trespassing.”

“I’m not trespassing,” he told her, again. This time, he held his hand out to shake hers, but she just stared. “I’m Sail Carter. My parents own the diner.”

Galvin racked her brain for the long list of Carter boys her father had told her about. Granted, it wasn’t that long, but her memory of the conversations was short?

“Your name is Sail?”

He smiled and did one of those little chuckles, as if he was trying to flirt with her. “Sure is.”

“What an odd name. Why would your parents do that to you?”

“Says the woman named Galvin?”

“I’m named after my grandparents. You’re named after . . .” She paused and tried to think of anything other than a sailboat and came up empty. “A wind sail?”

Sail laughed. “It’s not that strange,” he told her. “My parents run multiple businesses and all their sons are involved. Once you hear our names, you don’t forget them. It makes it very easy when you need one of the Carter boys.”

Galvin stared.

“My older brother is Dune, then there’s me, Tidal, and Crew.”

At the mention of Dune, she nodded. “Dune, I know. He runs the nightclub here. But the rest . . .” She shook her head.

Galvin grew suspicious. “Look, I think you should go. I don’t know you and you clearly have no idea what goes on at the diner. For all I know, you’re trying to pillage the diner.”

“Pillage?”

“Means rob.”

“I know what it means. I’m questioning your usage of the word.”

She shrugged. “I figured with a name like Sail, you’re some sort of pirate.”

“Argh,” he said, laughing as he crooked his arm.

Galvin pushed the handle of the broom into him, and he stepped back. “Like I said, you don’t seem genuine, and I’m going to call Mr. Carter to let him know he has a . . .” she waved her free hand in his direction. “A whatever you are intruding on his property. This is a small town. It won’t take the police long to find you.”

Sail held his hands up. “Okay, I’ll go. But first, what can I do to prove I am Jack and Pearl’s son?”

“Nothing,” she told him. “You didn’t even know about the dipping sauce, Mr. I know the menu by heart.”

“Yeah, that one threw me off a bit, but in my defense, I haven’t been home in a while.”

Galvin took a step back slowly, leaving the broom between them. She started climbing the stairs backward, never taking her eyes off him. “Likely excuse,” she said when she was halfway up the stairs.

Sail stood there with his hands in his pockets, watching her. “I like what you did with the porch,” he said when she was almost to her door. “The plants are a nice touch.”

She ignored him. “I’m going to call the cops now.”

Sail looked down at the ground and moved his foot over what she assumed was a pebble. “All right, Galvin. I’ll go and tomorrow you can apologize.”

“I doubt it.”

Sail laughed. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he told her as he turned toward the diner door.

She bolted for her door, slamming and locking it, and then scurried to all the windows and closed the curtains. At the last one, she peeked out front and saw Sail standing there. She swore he was looking at her.