Firefly Beach Read Online Free Page B

rose from the lazy river, shimmering in the moonlight. The inn guests loved their ceiling fans, screened porches, mosquito nets, kerosene lamps. They paid extra for a certain rusticity. They wanted flickering candles, tangled gardens, dinners al fresco on weathered picnic tables, mismatched plates and glasses, a cozy bar with a fireplace, and plenty to drink. They disdained modern conveniences, so Caroline obliged by not providing air-conditioning, television, telephones, or electric alarm clocks.
    “Will you come in?” she asked Clea, not wanting their night to end. “We have a great new chocolate cake I want you to try.”
    “Sure,” Clea said.
    Inside, they walked straight through the lobby. Guests were milling around, drinking and waiting for dinner. Michele, the manager, had everything under control. They walked straight past a row of their father’s paintings to the back porch. Caroline settled her sister on a glider and ran to the kitchen. She set up a tray with chipped china coffee cups, a pot of coffee, and two big slices of cake.
    “Hold me back,” Clea said when she saw the cake.
    “Wait till you taste it,” Caroline said.
    While conversation buzzed in the other room, the sisters hid out on the porch, eating the dense chocolate cake and watching a flock of geese land on the moonlit river twenty yards away.
    “The river’s pretty, but it’s not the ocean,” Clea said.
    “We’re saltwater girls,” Caroline said. “Dad always said that.”
    They were facing the river, when suddenly an arc of headlights illuminated the trees. A line of cars pulled into the inn’s circular drive. A truck rumbled up, and another. The sound of boisterous male voices carried across the property.
    “Maybe they have us mixed up with the Catspaw Tavern,” Caroline said, referring to the roadhouse five miles north.
    “Let’s go set them straight,” Clea said, curious.
    The two sisters walked into the lobby, where a pack of sunburned, unshaven men wearing frayed and grimy clothes were pouring through the front door. Michele, alarmed, stood at the reservations desk, ready with directions to the Catspaw. The Renwick Inn was refined, genteel. These men clearly had the wrong place.
    “Got any vacancies?” asked one man. He had a mop of salt-damp black hair, a faded tee-shirt advertising a bar in Key West, and a chipped front tooth. His massive gut stretched the shirt to its limits; his tattooed biceps were as thick as Michele’s waist.
    “For rooms?” Michele asked, frowning.
    “Yeah.” The man laughed. “What’d you think I meant?”
    “Well…” Michele said, gracefully ignoring the innuendo. She perused the reservations book. “How many rooms do you need?”
    “Six,” the man said. “We can double up. And some of us’ll be staying on the boats.”
    “On the boats?” Michele asked, grabbing her chance. “You might be happier with a place nearer the marinas. I have a list of motels…”
    “The boss wants this place,” the man said, shaking his head. “He was definite about it.”
    “How long do you need the rooms?” Michele asked.
    “Indefinitely. All summer, maybe. We’re working offshore, got a big salvage operation going—”
    “Loose lips sink ships,” another man interrupted. He chuckled, but his eyes were serious. “Quit trying to impress the ladies.”
    “Offshore?” Caroline asked. “Just a little east of here?” She was thinking of the boats she had seen from Firefly Hill, their lights glowing like downtown.
    “That’s right,” the first man said. He grinned proudly, revealing a broken tooth.
    “We definitely don’t have individual rooms available all summer,” Caroline said. “But Michele might be able to find one or two for tonight, then move you around as things come available.”
    “Shit,” the man said. “Boss’ll be disappointed. Danny, you’d better run outside and tell him. Maybe he’ll want to head back to the marina after all.”
    Some of the men had drifted