The Runaway: Shipwreck Key Book Two by Stephanie Taylor

Author:Stephanie Taylor [Taylor, Stephanie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-07-30T18:30:00+00:00

Sunday

The sun has set on Tangier Island, but people are still milling about, standing outside of the tavern on the main drag, walking in and out of the corner grocery store, and trading gossip with one another at the top of the dock. Cameron and Olive have both changed into jeans and sweatshirts with coats, but Sunday is wearing thick corduroy pants, a heavy sweater, and lace-up boots.

“Planning on gutting some fish, Mom?” Olive asks playfully, taking in her outfit from head to toe.

“You never know,” Sunday smiles. “You could be called on anytime to help out with a catch of rockfish or speckled trout.” She winks at Cameron. “You might mess up your manicure.”

“Definitely not,” Cameron says, wrinkling her nose. Of the two girls, Cameron is the one least likely to get her hands dirty or to do anything that might be considered even the least bit outdoorsy.

“I love that life on this whole island revolves around the fishing industry,” Olive says, watching as three men tie up a boat and step off in their oilcloth coveralls, with boots that come up to their knees. “It’s so charming.”

Just then, the bells of the church ring loudly to mark that it’s seven o’clock.

“Let’s go to the Waterfront Restaurant,” Sunday says, pointing at a building that looks like a white shack on the water. It has several boats pulled up and docked right at the entrance to the restaurant. “We can get crab cake sandwiches.”

They walk in and are immediately hit by the scent of fried fish and onion rings. People are sitting at picnic style tables—some of the men are sitting sideways on the benches, facing one another as they drink glasses of sweet tea or soda—and the music that’s playing sounds like 1970s AM radio.

“Do you think they serve Chardonnay by the glass here?” Olive asks, frowning slightly as she scans the room for an empty table. There’s one by the window and they wait for a busy looking waitress to point them over to it.

Sunday glances at her daughter as she pulls out a metal chair with vinyl padding that looks like it belongs around a meeting table in an office. “No, babe. I’m sorry, but I might have forgot to mention that Tangier is a dry island.”

“Huh?” Olive looks up from the laminated menu that the waitress has placed in her hands. She looks like a little girl who’s just been told that there’s no dessert.

“You can bring alcohol onto the island and no one is going to search you or anything, but the locals prefer it if you don’t. We don’t sell it here, there are no bars, and most people don’t drink at all.”

Cameron is watching and listening to this exchange wordlessly. “So it’s like Utah?” she asks.

“Utah isn’t totally dry, contrary to popular belief,” Sunday says, skimming her own menu as she rests her elbows on the oilcloth table covering; it reminds her of the coveralls that the fishermen were wearing on the dock. “There are about nine cities where you can’t purchase liquor in Utah.

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