A Serial Short Story Series
Book One: Regard Feels The Heat
If you are new to the tale and want to start reading from the beginning
Chapter Four
Regard smashed Babe’s pedal into the floorboards as she drove out of town. She knew she shouldn’t let those self-righteous Pharisees get to her, but sometimes it was hard to keep her mouth shut. Her bad mood was interrupted by Fester, he was rubbing his little thieving carcass up against her leg.
“Hmph. You think you can assuage my great wrath by showing me a bit of affection? That it?” Regard giggled as she reached down and stroked Fester’s silky pelt. He emitted a few chirps and hopped into her lap, stretching out like a satiated tabby cat.
“You know I can’t stay mad at you little buddy, but dang, do you have to be so klepto all the time.” She murmured as she drove along the cove side road. It was a rare sunny day and Regard rolled down the windows to let in the fresh sea breeze. In a few weeks, the king salmon would be running and all of the local charter businesses would begin their seasons in earnest. The gravel road wound along the spruce, cedar, and hemlock lined bluffs twisting and turning about like Regard’s mind was at the moment.
“Fester, I just can’t believe Hey Buddy would do something so shady. I mean, he’s totally a heathen for sure, but he’s a more in your face kind of heathen, not a premeditated pain kind of guy.” Regard mused.
Fester responded with a chirp and clambered up Regard’s flannel covered chest, alighting in his favorite perch upon her shoulder. He placed one of his tiny paws behind her right ear and held it there. Regard reached up and scratched his chin as they drew near the lodge. Fester tended to be a mischievous soul, but he was definitely a loyal and dear source of comfort. Even if he did steal her socks and underwear on occasion.
The main building of the lodge came into view as she rounded a granite bluff. Built-in a contemporary northwest style, the lodge was a cathedral peaked building with tons of windows adorning its large footprint to let in the natural light. Constructed of cedar, the lodge had been stained a grey color, so that on a normal Southeast Alaskan day the building blended right in with the atmosphere. Regard wasn’t too fond of the Monolith as she referred to it.
She pulled Babe around the back of the main lodge and parked. The business had its own dock, and she wasn’t surprised to see Spencer down on the dock messing with the rigging on one of his fancy new charter fishing boats. Regard had thought about getting her father a fishing boat so he could take people out fishing, but one look at the price of even one of the less fancy models left her gasping like a beached *humpy.
“Hello Regard,” Spencer called as she walked down the dock gangplank, “Just give me a second and I’ll get your check.”
“No hurries, I could use a breather.” Regard replied.
“Well, can you give me a hand with this for a second,” Spencer grunted as he wrestled with an engine panel.
“Sure, I can rest when I am dead.” Regard groused in reply.
Spencer didn’t hear her, and as she was walking up to the engine she noticed Spencer was straining to keep the engine cover on the big outboard while also trying to tighten the bolts down. How had the townie gotten so buff? she mused to herself. Spencer’s biceps bulged like ill-fitting yoga pants but in a pleasant way.
“Done admiring the view?” Regard jerked her eyes away from Spencer’s arms to his face, he was grinning in a very irritating way.
“I uh, was just wondering where you got that scar is all.” she stuttered.
“Oh, sure, the scar.” He said as he tightened the screws on the panel.
“Yes, the fricken scar, Spencer. The rest of you is not that interesting.” Regard said in return.
Spencer stopped mid-turn and looked at her, “Hmm. That’s not what the rest of the girls around here think.” He was smiling.
Regard was still riled up from her encounter with the Righteous Ruth clan, “I’m sure you have no shortage of adoring acolytes, most cult leaders have no issue finding a brain-washed simpleton or two.”
Spencer’s smile grew as he started tightening the last screw on the panel and said, “When I was twelve some local kids dared me to climb the top of the eagle tree.”
“What!” Regard ejected, “As in all 140 feet to the top?”
“What else would you expect some confused half native kid with a chip on his shoulder to do? Of course, I climbed to the top of that thing.” He replied.
“But what about that large female eagle and her equally large offspring. I mean, that one that flew into the power line had a wingspan of ten feet!” Regard said.
“I’m getting to that part. When I got up there, I paused a bit below the nest. I thought it would be good enough to just touch it, but then that kid, the old millwright’s son, what was his name? Oh ya, James. James started hollering that I was a big scaredy-cat. Yelled a bunch of really not PC slurs too, but it was the scaredy-cat part that helped me get this scar.” Spencer replied with a grunt as he tightened a bolt.
Regard was completely entranced by Spencer’s tale. As someone who despised bullying in all forms, she was drawn in like a social justice warrior to a virtue-signaling convention. Spencer went on,
“I shimmied out onto the branch below the nest and reached to pull myself up when one of the chicks started squawking. Before I could get my sorry carcass out of there Mama swooped down and tried to end me.”
Regard gasped, “You could have been killed! Is that what the scar is from? One of her talons catch you?”
“No, I lost my balance and slid down a couple of branches before I caught my grip. Old dead spruce has a bite to it.” Spencer chuckled, his mirth slid away as he held Regard’s gaze, “That was the last time I let any person dictate how I acted.”
Regard could feel Spencer’s resolve emanating off him in waves as she stared into his cool blue eyes. They were the same shade as the deep ocean.
“Uh,” she stuttered, face on fire, “That’s probably a good way to live, I’ve found that most people don’t know how to dictate to themselves let alone others.”
“Regard,” Spencer began, taking a step closer to her. Why could she not look away from the man’s face? It was all sharp angles and sophistication, a juxtaposition of wild and refined. His dark brown hair was perfectly cut, not a hair out of place she mused as she reached up and gave her bandanna a pat.
“Hartwright!” came a bellow that spelled flintlock chewing of the first-rate kind.
Spencer let out a frustrated sigh and jumped to his feet, “What does that old barnacle want now. Regard, will you wait here, please.”
Regard sucked in a clarifying bit of air. Spencer actually sounded genuine in his request. Normally he was formal in a schmoozing businessman sort of way, but there was almost a slight desperation in his words.
“Like I’m going to leave,” Regard replied, “You haven’t paid me yet.” Lowering her voice she added, “I’ll keep the engine compartment company.”
Spencer smiled at her and Regard wondered how much his perfect white teeth must have cost him as he turned and strode out of the boat’s hold. She did plan to stay out of sight, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to listen in on the conversation, because it was common knowledge that Hank Portfile reviled Spencer over the incident that happened with Hank’s daughter. The two men did not socialize.
“Good afternoon Hank, what can I help you with,” Spencer called as he hopped off of the boat onto the brand new dock.
“Cut the lodge owner schtick, we both know what an eel you are. I warned you that no good would come of you trying to expand this place!” Hank spat with more venom than an enraged black mamba.
“Your warnings were heard loud and clear Hank, but how I choose to conduct my business is no concern of yours,” Spencer replied in a low tone.
“This town doesn’t want a bunch of yuppies in here looking down on us and trying to change our way of life. Look what’s happened to other communities that focused too much on that tourist crap, people moved in, people with money and ideas, and they wrecked a way of life that has endured for generations.” Hank lectured.
“Oh, you mean kind of like what happened to my people when your people moved in?” Spencer countered.
“Don’t lay that poor native BS on me Hartwright, your people are miles better off than they were when we came here. What gives you the right to go against the entire town? Who do you think you are!”
“I’m just a guy who went off and became educated. A guy who’s going to use what I learned to better a lot of people’s lives, and I’m also a guy who’s not going to be intimidated by a selfish, used up old logger who thinks he can dictate what people can and can not do with their own property,” Spencer said.
“Might not have any property left to do anything with if you ain’t careful,” Hank growled, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you Hartwright, your grandiose plans aren’t wanted here.”
“Is that a threat, Hank?”
“It’s a promise you jumped up popinjay. You better think hard about your plans in Ptarmigan Cove, it wouldn’t be so great for business if you don’t have the townfolk on your side.”
“Well, I don’t think this has anything to do with preserving the town, I think this has to do with Trish.”
Regard risked a peek through the boat’s porthole. Hank’s face was a vivid shade of purple. Eggplants looked dull in hue comparison.
“How dare you speak her name!” he stammered, his voice full of rage.
“That situation is not what you think,” Spencer began.
“Burned boats are the least of your worries you piece of garbage,” Hank yelled as he turned and stomped up the dock.
Regard heard Spencer sigh. She was thinking about what Spencer had said about the situation with Trish, Hank’s daughter. It had all went down a few years ago, and she didn’t think Hank would ever recover from Trish moving away to Seattle.
Spencer’s feet thudding against the hold as he jumped down into the engine compartment startled her out of her ruminating. It really wasn’t her business she decided as she took in Spencer’s face. His body was tense, and as she regarded his form she noticed his eyes were crinkled in a way that belied more than a touch of sadness about them.
“I didn’t know that Hank and you were such good friends, I mean I could feel it in here.” She quipped. Ugh, she thought, I am such a dork sometimes.
Spencer let out a shaky breath, smiled, and sighed, “Yep, we are like this,” he said holding up his crossed fingers, “Only without any of the closeness.”
Regard let out a chuckle and said, “I’m sorry Spencer, that didn’t sound like much fun, and it probably didn’t help matters much with me in here.”
Regard didn’t know what the heck was wrong with her, where was this touchy-feely behavior coming from? Before Spencer could reply she gave her head a shake and spat, “Where’s my check, I have places to be.”
Spencer’s previous warmth towards her withdrew like a startled geoduck’s tongue and he replied coldly, “Right this way.” They walked up the dock and to the lodge office without another word towards each other. He handed Regard an envelope without touching her fingers and said in his crisp and cultured manner, “I’ll contact you when I need another sling of lumber.”
“No problem, and thank you.” Regard replied in just as cool of tone.
As she walked toward Babe and Fester, Regard suddenly stopped and turned back toward Spencer, she was surprised to see him studying her as if she was a quantum mechanics textbook.
“Um,” she began, “It’s no one’s business what you want to do with your place, and I hope you don’t let Hank and his lackeys stop you from pursuing your goals.”
Before Spencer could reply she jumped in the truck and fired up Babe. Fester gave out an admonishing squeak of ermine indignation as she slammed the truck into gear and headed toward home.
Check back soon for Chapter Five!
Humpy: a humpy is the slang term for a pink salmon.
Regarding the images in this post, my book cover art was commissioned and designed by my super talented friend Tabi, AKA The Scarlett Queen. Check out her work on Instagram
The little ermine image came from Pixabay