Axe grinned. “I buy take-out from her place a couple of times a week, at least. My crew—even more often. It’s good, homemade food.”
“Did you know that a national taco chain just down the beach is hurting her business? She had to reduce employee hours.”
Marina had talked to Rosa, a long-time proprietor in Summer Beach who was part of the fabric of the community. Rosa purchased fresh fish every morning at the dock from the fishing vessels, her family grew organic vegetables, and they made salsa and tortillas without any additives. They offered plenty of vegan options as well. Marina thought Rosa’s fare was far superior to the fast-food chain’s dry excuse for tacos—and it was less expensive for what you got.
“I didn’t know that, but I’m not surprised,” Axe said, shaking his head. “People often opt for what they know. It will be up to you and restaurant owners in Summer Beach to figure out how to get visitors to stay here. You’ll need good marketing and PR.”
“Kai does that quite well,” Ginger said.
“I’ve seen her in action at the farmers market.” Axe rubbed the back of his neck and chuckled.
“We should position Summer Beach as a destination for foodies,” Marina said. “I plan to produce an annual Taste of Summer Beach to attract visitors. With Kai’s help, of course.”
“Kai mentioned that,” Axe said thoughtfully. “It’s a good idea—if you can shake up some of the restaurant owners in town.”
“I think they’re already shaken.” Marina motioned toward the kitchen. “Let’s start here.”
Glancing around the space, Marina imagined the equipment she’d need. “I’ll have to give it more thought, but at the least, I’ll need a lot more counter space.” She tapped a wall that separated the kitchen from a small dining area. “If we can remove this wall, we can open this space and extend the kitchen. I’ll need a larger cooktop, more ovens, and room for a large refrigerator.” The old apartment-sized refrigerator couldn’t hold enough.
“Sure, that’s possible.” Axe indicated an option on the plans and made notes on a pad he withdrew from his pocket. “Here’s the name of a restaurant supply store. They get a lot of good used equipment from high-end restaurants that have failed. You can find some deals there, and sometimes they have auctions.”
Marina brightened. “I’ll check that out right away.” She gestured outside. “You did such a good job on the deck, so I thought about building another one to join the two together. That would double the seating space and give us better access.” Since rain was infrequent, especially in the high-season summer months, she could save the cost of enclosed space. Many people preferred eating outside on the beach.
“Good idea. Outdoor seating is a cheaper option.” Axe made another note. “I’ll take some measurements later.” He clicked his pen. “What are your plans for the living area?”
Marina studied the space. A large adobe fireplace that she knew provided the only heat in the cottage anchored the room. Generally, the weather in Summer Beach was mild, although she knew unexpected cold weather did occur. Just last winter, Ginger told her they’d had a rare dusting of snow on Christmas, even though it melted the moment it touched the sand.
Marina ran her hand over the old fireplace. “I want to keep this, and I could use the living room as flex space for a chef’s table or cooking classes.” She could serve friends and family with the open layout and share new dishes she was trying out.
Ethan could bring his hungry friends, and Ginger and Heather could catch up while Marina cooked and served them. The thought filled her with happiness, and she could just imagine how it would look.
“A chef’s table is an excellent idea,” Ginger said, pressing her hands together.
“Would it be possible to replace the large window with doors we could open? That would open the kitchen to the patio.” That would be easier to manage and entertaining for customers.
“Sure, we can do that,” Axe replied.
While Marina watched, Axe surveyed the room. He asked a few questions, and they discussed safety measures and the need for a larger electrical panel to handle the new equipment.
Once Axe had everything he needed, he returned to his truck. Just as he was leaving, Kai emerged, fresh from the bath. Her makeup was expertly applied, and her hair looked stage-perfect. She turned toward Axe’s truck, looking crestfallen at having missed him. Axe waved as he left.
Kai turned back to Marina and Ginger. “Why didn’t one of you tell me Axe was here?”
“I didn’t know we were supposed to,” Marina replied.
Kai rolled her eyes. “A lot of help you two are.”
“So when will Dmitri grace us with his presence?” Ginger asked, raising her brow.
“I’ll ask him,” Kai replied, though she sounded vague.
Ginger touched her shoulder. “If he’s going to be part of the family, it’s only proper. Tell him I’m looking forward to meeting him. Long overdue, don’t you think?”
Kai nodded, though she glanced over her shoulder, still watching Axe.
Marina knew Kai was vacillating between the ideal life she envisioned with Dmitri and the attraction she felt for Axe. She wondered if Kai really had a deep connection with Dmitri—or if her infatuation was dimming.
“I’ll get ready,” Marina said. She had no idea what to expect in the kitchen galley. She turned to Ginger. “Anne and Charles assured me that the food had been delivered, so I think we’ll have everything we need on board. And Kai, don’t forget to change into deck shoes. Make sure the soles are clean, too.”
“Aye, aye,” Kai said.
As Marina packed supplies and tools she might need for the evening, she couldn’t help wondering what awaited them aboard the Princess Anne.
3
Seated at a patio table at the seaside Seabreeze Inn, Jack stared across the sand at the ocean, willing the right words into his mind and onto the screen. His hands poised motionless over the keyboard, waiting for a cue from his brain.
He was accustomed to investigative reporting with its in-depth research, interviewing, and detailed writing. Writing and illustrating a series of children’s books with Ginger Delavie—a legend in her right among top-secret coding circles—required a rewiring of the gray matter.
This certainly wasn’t how he’d imagined spending his six-month sabbatical.
But then, Jack hadn’t counted on discovering he had a son, either. Or even getting a dog.
Next to him, Scout whimpered at a seagull cruising overhead. Jack reached down to scratch the dog’s neck.
Just then, his phone buzzed on the table. He’d meant to turn it off while he wrote, trying to edit and add to Ginger’s original text and make notes for his drawings. With a sigh, he reached for the phone, noting the name of a fellow reporter and friend whose name appeared on the screen.
“Hank, what’s going on?” Jack grinned. This was the prankster who’d told the puppy rescue organization that their office offered doggie massages and a pet park in the middle of Manhattan.
“Aren’t you tired of that sabbatical yet?”