Rip Tide (A Ripple Effect Cozy Mystery, Book 2) Read Online Free Page B
Author: Jeanne Glidewell
on the water. On each occasion, he had suddenly needed to use the john or make an important phone call, and was already occupied when it came time to pay for anything.
Rip shrugged his shoulders and told me, "I guess it's only fair we pay for the bait and supplies. After all, we're using his boat."
Although I found Milo's vanishing acts a bit irksome, I figured we'd already spent hundreds of dollars for our gear. What was another seventy clams? I was discovering more and more about the high price of being an avid angler.
As I placed the ice and beer in the boat's cooler, which also served as a seat, Milo was holding the gas nozzle while filling the fuel tank. I heard him gasp. I turned to watch him, with his hand on his empty back pocket, say, "Gosh dang it! I left my wallet on the kitchen table."
I whispered to Rip, "Tell him we aren't in any hurry and don't mind taking the time to go back to his house to get it."
Rip shook his head and grumbled to me, "I have a hunch this station is not going to accept moths as a form of payment. I think we'll just have to accept this as one of those live and learn situations. Besides, as I said before, we are using his boat."
Live and learn, my sagging behind ! I thought, as I watched the numbers on the gas pump mounting so rapidly I couldn't keep up with the total. Finally I asked Milo, "How much gas does this thing hold?"
"Sixty gallons," he replied without batting an eye.
Good grief! I thought. Who'd have ever thought a boat could hold twice as much fuel as the vehicle you towed it with. Is there anything involved in angling that isn't detrimental to one's net worth?
"You do know the definition of 'boat', don't you?" Rip asked me as Milo instructed the attendant to include a bottle of fuel additive on the bill. When I shook my head, Rip continued. "It's a hole in the water in which you pour money."
I'd have laughed if the escalating expense wasn't so painful. I would have at least responded had Milo's next comment not taken the breath out of me. "I guess I better fill up the truck too, or we'll be driving on fumes before we get to the boat launch."
Eighty-seven gallons and almost two-hundred dollars later, Rip, with a barely discernible amount of steam coming out of his ears, leaned over and grudgingly told me, "I'll have to use the credit card, Rapella. I used the last of my cash at the bait stand."
I bit my tongue until it nearly bled to keep from making a spiteful remark. We hadn't even got a hook wet yet, and the already exorbitant cost of a grilled redfish steak had just increased substantially. Rip began to walk away from me, then stopped and turned to make another cutting remark.
"At least Milo filled up at a gas station instead of the marina, where the price of fuel is even higher. If he hadn't, we could have had to cough up another Ben Franklin."
"Gee. How thoughtful of him."
* * *
"Rapella!" Milo hollered. He was guiding the boat, Rip was standing next to him at the helm, and I was sitting on a cushioned cooler on the bow of the twenty-four foot bay boat. "Throw the anchor out for me!"
I did as requested and then joined the men, who were stepping into their chest waders. A few seconds later, Milo turned to me and asked, "Why are we drifting? Didn't you throw the anchor out?"
"Yes, of course, I did. Right after you asked me to."
"You did tie the rope to the boat before you pitched the anchor into the water, didn't you?"
"Oops!" I replied in embarrassment. "Sorry, Milo. I guess I assumed it was already tied to the boat. After all, you said, 'Throw the anchor out,' not 'Tie off the anchor and throw it out.'"
"Oh, don't worry about it," Milo said with a chuckle. "I'll wade over and retrieve it later. For now we can lower my new power pole. It buries itself in the sand and mud and keeps the boat in place."
I wondered why he didn't just use the power pole in the first place. The electronic device obviously cost a great deal more than the anchor. And if it didn't
Rip shrugged his shoulders and told me, "I guess it's only fair we pay for the bait and supplies. After all, we're using his boat."
Although I found Milo's vanishing acts a bit irksome, I figured we'd already spent hundreds of dollars for our gear. What was another seventy clams? I was discovering more and more about the high price of being an avid angler.
As I placed the ice and beer in the boat's cooler, which also served as a seat, Milo was holding the gas nozzle while filling the fuel tank. I heard him gasp. I turned to watch him, with his hand on his empty back pocket, say, "Gosh dang it! I left my wallet on the kitchen table."
I whispered to Rip, "Tell him we aren't in any hurry and don't mind taking the time to go back to his house to get it."
Rip shook his head and grumbled to me, "I have a hunch this station is not going to accept moths as a form of payment. I think we'll just have to accept this as one of those live and learn situations. Besides, as I said before, we are using his boat."
Live and learn, my sagging behind ! I thought, as I watched the numbers on the gas pump mounting so rapidly I couldn't keep up with the total. Finally I asked Milo, "How much gas does this thing hold?"
"Sixty gallons," he replied without batting an eye.
Good grief! I thought. Who'd have ever thought a boat could hold twice as much fuel as the vehicle you towed it with. Is there anything involved in angling that isn't detrimental to one's net worth?
"You do know the definition of 'boat', don't you?" Rip asked me as Milo instructed the attendant to include a bottle of fuel additive on the bill. When I shook my head, Rip continued. "It's a hole in the water in which you pour money."
I'd have laughed if the escalating expense wasn't so painful. I would have at least responded had Milo's next comment not taken the breath out of me. "I guess I better fill up the truck too, or we'll be driving on fumes before we get to the boat launch."
Eighty-seven gallons and almost two-hundred dollars later, Rip, with a barely discernible amount of steam coming out of his ears, leaned over and grudgingly told me, "I'll have to use the credit card, Rapella. I used the last of my cash at the bait stand."
I bit my tongue until it nearly bled to keep from making a spiteful remark. We hadn't even got a hook wet yet, and the already exorbitant cost of a grilled redfish steak had just increased substantially. Rip began to walk away from me, then stopped and turned to make another cutting remark.
"At least Milo filled up at a gas station instead of the marina, where the price of fuel is even higher. If he hadn't, we could have had to cough up another Ben Franklin."
"Gee. How thoughtful of him."
* * *
"Rapella!" Milo hollered. He was guiding the boat, Rip was standing next to him at the helm, and I was sitting on a cushioned cooler on the bow of the twenty-four foot bay boat. "Throw the anchor out for me!"
I did as requested and then joined the men, who were stepping into their chest waders. A few seconds later, Milo turned to me and asked, "Why are we drifting? Didn't you throw the anchor out?"
"Yes, of course, I did. Right after you asked me to."
"You did tie the rope to the boat before you pitched the anchor into the water, didn't you?"
"Oops!" I replied in embarrassment. "Sorry, Milo. I guess I assumed it was already tied to the boat. After all, you said, 'Throw the anchor out,' not 'Tie off the anchor and throw it out.'"
"Oh, don't worry about it," Milo said with a chuckle. "I'll wade over and retrieve it later. For now we can lower my new power pole. It buries itself in the sand and mud and keeps the boat in place."
I wondered why he didn't just use the power pole in the first place. The electronic device obviously cost a great deal more than the anchor. And if it didn't
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