“‘Much’?” Donna sniffed as she bit into a jelly-filled.
“That’s right. I’m going to play with the budget some, see if I can find a way to get us a new table in the break room. I will be keeping Chief Wickett’s open-door policy. If my door’s closed, there’s a reason for it. Otherwise, it’s open. If Donna hasn’t already given everybody my cell number, get it. And I need yours. I need you to keep your cell charged and with you at all times. On or off duty. I know Chief Wickett used the whiteboard for scheduling. I’m using the computer. I’ve worked out next month’s shift schedule. It’ll be on your computers. If anybody needs to switch up, needs time off, you can work that out among yourselves. I just need to know. If we can’t work it out, we’ll find a way.”
“Is your schedule on there?” Matty wanted to know.
“It is. While we’re out here, somebody tell me, what the hell is that thing?”
They all looked at the sickly plant.
“It’s an eyesore,” Donna said. “The chief’s wife gave it to him for some damn reason. We ought to put it out of its misery.”
“Ah now, Donna,” Cecil began.
“The chief had a black thumb—no offense, Cecil.”
Cecil, the only black person in the room, just grinned. “I got two of those. But we can’t just toss it out. That ain’t right.”
“Anybody here got a green thumb?” Reed asked. “I don’t know what color mine is. I’ve never tried growing anything.”
As one, the group turned to Leon.
“Okay, Leon, you’re in charge of the thing over there. If it dies, we’ll give it a decent burial. And before the growing season hits, maybe you can tell me something about lupines and whatever else I’m going to have coming up at my place. I don’t know a damn thing.”
“I can help you out there.”
“Great. One more personal thing. I think I’m going to need somebody to give my place a going over, like, once or twice a month. I’m not looking at you.” He had to laugh, as the faces ranged from stony to appalled. “I’m asking for suggestions.”
“Kaylee Michael and Hester Darby handle turnover for Island Rentals,” Donna told him. “They bring in extra hands for that during the season, but Kaylee and Hester are islanders.”
“I met Hester.”
“Seeing as you’re one messy man in that big place, you’d be smarter to hire both of them. In and out quicker, and they’re a good team.”
“Thanks. I’ll talk to them. If anyone’s got any questions, comments, snide remarks, now’s the time. If they’re more personal questions, comments, snide remarks, you can see me in my office.”
“Do we get written up for snide remarks?”
He gave Matty a level stare. “I guess we’ll have to find out. I’m not much of a hard-ass, but I’m not a pushover. You’ll have to figure out the sweet spot. Check your schedules. I’ll be in my office.”
He grabbed a doughnut on the way out.
It took less than ten minutes for the first to tap on his doorjamb. “Come on in, Nick.”
“You’ve got me scheduled for next Saturday night. It’s my six-month anniversary, and I promised to take Tara, my wife, over to Portland for a fancy night out. Cecil said he’d switch with me.”
“I’ll fix it. How’d you meet Tara?”
“She took a summer job with a friend of hers on the island a couple years ago. A lifeguard. She pulled this guy out—he had a heart attack it turns out, damn near drowned. She pulled him out, gave him CPR, brought him back. I was on beach patrol, so I talked to her, got her statement and all. And that was that.”
He smiled, stars in his eyes. “Anyway, thanks, Chief.”
Minutes later, Matty came in, sat, folded her arms.
“Is this going to be a snide remark?”
“That depends. It’s starting as comment and question. The snide remark depends on your answer.”
He sat back. “Fire away.”
“Chief Wickett was a good cop, a good boss, and a good chief, but he had one blind spot. We’ve got one bathroom.”
“We do, and I don’t see how I can stretch the budget to add a second.”
“I don’t care about that. I care that the chief’s blind spot meant he expected me and Donna to rotate cleaning the bathroom. Because we’ve got the ovaries, to his way of thinking.”
“I don’t share that way of thinking. Unless I can, once again, stretch the budget to have somebody come in once a week—”
“Men are smelly and sloppy. Once a week doesn’t cut it.”
“Okay then, twice a week, if I can stretch it for somebody to come in and deal. Otherwise, daily, full rotation. Including those without ovaries. I’ll send out a staff memo on it.”
“Are you on that rotation?”
He smiled at her. “I’m the chief of police. That means I don’t scrub the toilet. But I’ll do my best not to be smelly and sloppy.”
“Toilet paper goes on the holder, not on the damn side of the damn sink.”
“I’ll add that in.”
“Toilet seat goes down.”
“Jesus.” He scratched the back of his neck. “How about this, the lid and all goes down after each use. Seat alone? I’m playing favorites.”
“That’s fair.” But she hesitated.
“More?”
“It ought to be just the deputies on john-cleaning duty.”
“Why not Donna? She doesn’t use the toilet?”
“You have to get down to scrub the floor. She’s fit and she’s agile, but I know it hurts her knees.”
“Okay, just deputies. Thanks for telling me.”
She nodded, rose. “How come you have me patrolling with either Nick or Cecil instead of Leon?”
“Because they both need more seasoning, and you and Leon don’t.”
“The way it was before—”
“This isn’t before. Take your toilet victory, Deputy.” He heard the phone ring in the bullpen. “If that’s a call, you and Nick are up first. Let’s keep it safe out there.”
By the end of his first day, he made more adjustments—gave some, held the line more. He took a couple calls himself, just to keep his hand in.
At the end of his first week, he locked up the station feeling satisfied and steady. He left his cruiser at the station, opted to walk. If he got an after-hours call, he’d take his personal vehicle. He picked a couple things up at the market, made his way home in air that tasted of storms.
His weather forecaster at the Sunrise said that nor’easter was barreling in. Since the official weather station agreed, he intended to batten down his own hatches, to be ready if he got a call involving storm damage, accidents, or downed trees.
His trees swayed in that whooshing wind, but they’d come through storms before. He angled to go in the back, the kitchen.
He spotted Simone’s car parked beside his, and thought: Oh yeah. Finally!
He didn’t see her, so he walked around to the water side of the house. And there she was, standing in the wind, hair blowing. Hair now the color of his grandmother’s treasured mahogany sideboard.
Thump, thump, thump went his heart. He wondered if it always would.
“Hey there,” he called out. “Nice breeze, huh?”
She turned, eyes alive, face glowing. “Nothing like a storm gathering itself up.” She walked over to him. “How’d week one go for you?”
“Not bad. You want to come in?”
“Yeah.”
She walked around with him, watched him slide the glass door open to the kitchen. “You don’t lock up?”
“If anybody wanted in, they’d just break the glass.” He set the market bag on the counter. “You want a drink?”
“What are you offering?”
“I’ve got CiCi’s wine.” He got a bottle of each, held them up.
“I’ll take the Cab.”
She wandered through. “Nice couch. You need some throw pillows.”
“Women need throw pillows. I’m a guy.”
“A guy who probably wants women on this couch.”
“You have a point. Throw pillows it is. I don’t know anything about buying throw pillows.” He opened the Cab.
“You’ll figure it out.” She walked to the painting. “Now, this is just wonderful.”
“Best gift ever.” He got a beer for himself, brought her the wine. “Do you want a tour?”