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“The fish are underwater,” Bethany said patiently. “They can’t hear us.”
“Oh, but they can,” Amanda assured her. Then she looked at Hudson, who appeared touchably rumpled and unshaven. Normally she didn’t care for that un-shaven look, but on Hudson it worked. He wore a pair of jeans even more faded than the ones he’d had on yesterday, and a Harvard T-shirt.
Harvard? “Your alma mater?” she asked, pointing to the shirt.
He looked down at it. “This? Someone gave it to me.”
“Oh. Well, anyway, I wanted to thank you for making good on the check.”
“I told you I would.”
“I know, but I’ve learned not to trust people when they say things like that. So many don’t live up to their word. I appreciate that you did, and I’m sorry I lost my temper yesterday.”
He smiled. “It’s forgotten.”
“So, you’re fishing, huh?”
“Yup.”
“What are you using for bait?” She didn’t see a bait bucket anywhere.
“Right now? Some little wooden fish we found in the tackle box.”
Ye gods! No wonder they hadn’t caught anything. You couldn’t use plastic worms or plugs or other artificial lures for bobber fishing. And now that she was closer, and Hudson had his hook out of the water, she could see they weren’t using floats or sinkers, either. This was the most pathetic fishing effort she’d ever seen.
“What are you trying to catch?”
Hudson shrugged. “Anything.”
“Would you mind a few pointers? I mean, you aren’t familiar with this lake.” She didn’t want to point out his complete ignorance in front of his daughter.
“I would be grateful for some pointers.”
“Okay. First of all, if you’re just going to hang your hook in the water, you need live bait. Minnows, or at least earthworms.”
“We don’t have any of those things. These fake fish look pretty realistic to me.”
Amanda shook her head. “Yes, but you have to wiggle and move them to make them attractive. They won’t work if they’re just hanging still in the water. Also, most of the fish will already be in deeper water this time of the morning. They come close to shore only at dawn and dusk.”
“I don’t have any worms or minnows.”
“Well…if you’re not too particular about what you catch, raw bacon might work in a pinch. At least it smells good to the fish.”
Hudson shook his head. “I have hot dogs.”
“That might do.”
Hudson sent Bethany back to the house for hot dogs, an errand she gladly performed. “She was getting tired of just sitting here, anyway,” Hudson admitted.
“Well, she won’t be bored when you start catching fish.” Bethany dusted off a spot on the dock and sat down, careful to protect her stockings and her modesty in her short skirt. In a couple of minutes flat she had both poles properly outfitted with sinkers, floats and hooks. Bethany returned shortly with a package of franks. Amanda took a small bit of wiener and worked it onto one of the hooks in a way that would disguise it.
“Now. You need to cast your line out a little ways from the dock, and let the current move it along.” She and Hudson stood, and she demonstrated the correct procedure. As she stretched her arm back preparing for the cast, she got the distinct impression that Hudson wasn’t watching her form—not her fishing form, anyway.
After a few practice casts, Hudson had the technique down pat. He cast Bethany’s line for her, showed her how to slowly crank the reel to take up slack in the line, then threw out his own line.
In less than thirty seconds Bethany’s bobber wiggled, then plummeted below the surface.
“You’ve got a fish!” Amanda exclaimed.
Bethany got so excited she shrieked and almost dropped her pole in the water. But with her father standing behind her helping her reel it in, and with Amanda’s verbal coaching, she managed to pull a little sunfish out of the water.
“I caught a fish! I caught a fish!”
“Yes, you certainly did,” Amanda enthused. “And a magnificent specimen it is, too.” It was about three inches long.
“I’m gonna name him Shiny.”
Hudson and Amanda exchanged a look. “You didn’t tell her what we do with the fish we catch?” Amanda asked.
Chapter Three
“I figured we’d throw all the fish back,” Hudson said.
“No, Daddy, you can’t let Shiny go,” Bethany said in a near panic. “He’s my fish.”
“Well, he’s too small to eat,” Amanda said with a laugh.
“Eat!” Bethany’s face reflected horror.
Hudson looked to Amanda for some way out of this dilemma. She smiled and shrugged helplessly. “Do you have a bucket to put the fish in?” she asked mildly.
“No.” Some help she was! “We’re throwing it back in the lake.”
“It’s my fish!” Bethany repeated, her eyes filling with tears.
Amanda’s eyes danced with amusement, tempered with concern. “If I were you, I’d let her keep the fish.”
Hudson gritted his teeth. He gave Amanda a look that said he wasn’t particularly grateful for her suggestion, then turned to his daughter. “Okay, Bethany, here’s the deal. You can keep this one fish. But if we catch any more, we have to throw them back. You know, let them swim free, like Free Willy?”
“Okay,” she said without a fight, nodding eagerly.
“And we can’t take Shiny back to Boston with us. Fish don’t travel well.”
“Unless they’re frozen,” Amanda murmured just loud enough that Hudson could hear.
“Okay,” Bethany said again.
“Then run up to the house and find a big bowl or a pitcher or a bucket to put the fish in.”
She ran off, leaving Hudson holding the fish.
“Maybe you better dip the line in the water,” Amanda suggested. “Shiny’s looking a little peaked.”
Hudson did as instructed. The last thing he needed was for Bethany to return and find that her fish had died under his care.
“And I don’t want to be an alarmist,” Amanda added, “but I think you might have a fish on your line, too.”
Hudson had laid his pole on the dock when he was helping Bethany pull in her fish. He scanned the surface of the lake for the red-and-white bobber and didn’t see it anywhere, but his line was taut. He caught the pole just before it would have been pulled into the water.
“Well, don’t just stand there, help!”
Amanda took his pole and started reeling in the fish. She could tell by the pull that it was a considerably larger catch than Bethany’s. When it finally cleared the water, it turned out to be a huge channel catfish, at least a foot long.
“Wow, beginner’s luck,” Amanda said, admiring the fish. “Got any pliers?”
“What for?”
“You can’t take a catfish off a hook with your bare hands. They sting you with those pointy whiskers.”
Hudson had had no idea fishing could be so hazardous. Maybe he should have read a book on the subject first. “I don’t have any pliers.”
She shook her head as if to say he was hopeless, handed him the pole, then headed up the dock toward her house.
“You’re coming back, right?” he asked, feeling slightly panicky himself.
“I’ve got some pliers in my garage.”
Hudson was much relieved by the return of both his daughter and his neighbor. “Shiny” had a new home in a big soup pot, which he set under a tree in the shade for the time being. And Amanda took off her short-sleeved jacket and showed him how to remove a not-too-friendly catfish from a hook.
Hudson and Bethany caught several more fish in all shapes and sizes as Amanda cheered them on and offered pointers. Apparently, Town Lake fish really liked hot dogs—especially Shiny. Bethany kept feeding him bits of wiener.
“That fish is going to get heart disease if we keep feeding him those fatty hot dogs,” Hudson grumbled. But he was actually enjoying himself. He liked watching his daughter’s eyes light up each time she felt a tug on her line.
And he liked watching Amanda. She’d gotten a snag in her hose and a small spot on her tan linen skirt, but she didn’t seem to mind. She appeared to be having fun coaching Hudson and Bethany in the fine art of bobber fishing, as she called it.
“I’m hungry,” Bethany announced. “Is it time for lunch yet?”
Hudson looked at his watch. “It’s only ten-fifteen.”
Amanda jumped like a spooked rabbit. “It’s what?” She consulted her own watch. “Oh, my God. Oh, my God! How did it get so late?”
“Late?”
“I’ve missed my appointment with Clea Marsden.” She spied her purse, which she’d set down on the dock, and dived into it, producing a cell phone. “Oh, great, I didn’t even have my cell phone on!” She punched in a couple of numbers and waited impatiently for the connection, tapping her foot against the dock.
Bethany watched, fascinated. Hudson confessed to a certain amount of interest himself. His easygoing fishing coach had suddenly turned into a no-nonsense businesswoman.
“Margie? Yes, yes, I’m fine. I just forgot to—no, nothing happened. I lost track of the time. I was…working at home and got involved.” Her eyes flickered toward Hudson, perhaps to see if he would call her on the lie, then skittered away. “I must not have heard the phone. I’m sorry I worried you. I hope Clea Marsden wasn’t too distressed that I—oh. I see.” Her jaw clenched, and a tiny muscle near her eye twitched. “I’ll be there in a few minutes.” She snapped the phone closed. All the color had drained from her face. In fact, she reminded him of how his mother-in-law had looked when Hudson had told her of her daughter’s death.
“Are you all right?” he asked, concerned.
She looked at him as if she was surprised to see him. “No, I’m not all right. I missed an appointment.”
“Is that such a tragedy?” he said, trying to lighten the mood.
“Yes! When I didn’t show, Clea Marsden got a little antsy, and Mary Jo pounced. I lost the listing.” She spoke the words as if it were the worst tragedy to befall Western civilization since the black plague.
“Well, cheer up. Tomorrow’s the first day of a new month. You’ve got all of June to beat Mary Jo.”
She seemed not to hear him. “How could I have been so irresponsible, so downright stupid? Fishing, for God’s sake! I’ve frittered away almost three hours! That’s time I’ll never get back.” She looked at him earnestly. “When you waste time, you never get it back, you know.”
He did know that—all too well. Often he felt there weren’t enough hours in the day to accomplish all he wanted to do. There were always more patients than he had time to operate on. Once, a patient at the hospital—not his, thank God—had died while waiting for a free operating room.
“I’m very aware of how I spend my time,” he said, his good mood deflated. He shouldn’t be here. He should be back in Boston, doing what he was meant to do.
Amanda pulled a towelette from her purse and began rubbing at the small spot on her skirt. “I’ve torn my stockings, I’ve stained my skirt, I probably have a sunburn and I know I smell like fish. What on earth was I thinking? I must be out of my mind.”
“Hey, easy on the self-flagellation. Everybody loses track of the time now and then.”
“Not me. Not when I’ve got bills to pay and people depending on me. I have to think of my future. No one’s going to take care of me when I’m old.”
Good heavens, she was serious.
“I have to go. Thank you again for fixing the bad check. Good luck with your fishing.” She turned and started away.
“Amanda?” Bethany called after her. “Wait.”
Amanda turned back, looking flushed and slightly guilty. “Yes, Bethany, what is it?”
“Could you help me make a place for Shiny to live?”
“Well, I think your dad can probably help you.”
“But he doesn’t even like Shiny.”
“I’m really busy, sweetheart. I…” Amanda looked to Hudson for support, but he refused to give her any. She was the one, after all, who’d insisted Bethany ought to keep the damn fish as a pet. “Well, all right. But later, when I’m done with work, okay?”
“Okay.”
Hudson watched as she picked her way across the uneven ground in her high heels.
“Where does Amanda work?” Bethany asked.
“At the real estate office, remember? She helps people buy and sell and rent houses.”
“Does she get paid money?”
“Yes. For every house she sells or rents, she gets a certain percentage of the price.”
