Small-Town Girl

His brother watched him work for a moment before speaking. “Not every woman is Audra.”

Brice winced. While thoughts of Audra didn’t bother him any longer, he still wanted to avoid that part of his life. Love had the same effect on the heart as a stingray barb did. It hurt and had the potential of killing something inside a man that didn’t ever want to be revived again.

“I didn’t come here to talk to you about women.”

Evan cocked his head and clearly fought a smile. “Half the time you act like you’re allergic to all of humanity and hole yourself up in your cabin all alone. Tonight you just happen to wander down to my shop in the heart of where the tourists hang out. I know you too well. You wouldn’t be here unless you had something serious to talk about.”

Brice scrubbed his hand over his aching jaw. His TMJ was acting up again. “How many times do I have to tell you that introverts don’t necessarily dislike people, we just prefer being alone more?”

“There are introverts and then there are hermits.” Evan held up both hands like a scale. “You, brother, lean much closer to the second category, I’m afraid. But that’s neither here nor there. What do you need?”

Brice’s brother had always possessed an ability to read people. Or maybe it only worked where Brice was concerned, since he and Evan had been through so much together. Brothers couldn’t spend hours as children huddled under piles of clothes in their closet, praying their father’s rampage ended before he found them, without becoming close.

Tell Evan about Dad’s voice mail? No. Not today.

Brice shoved his hands deep into his pockets. “I need advice.”

“All right.” Evan hopped up so he was seated on top of the counter by the register. “Shoot.”

“My business is in trouble.”

Evan’s eyes grew wide. “What kind of trouble? Do you need money? I could—”

Brice stopped Evan’s words by holding up his hands. “I didn’t come here to ask you for money. I hate admitting it, but I think I bit off more than I can chew. I’m not in serious trouble—at least not yet—but I could be soon if business keeps going in the direction it’s heading right now.”

“Are you behind on bills?”

“Not yet.”

“Listen.” Evan slid back down so he was standing on the floor. He crossed the room so he was inches away from Brice and lowered his voice. “Don’t mess with Sesser. Whatever you do, promise me you won’t go into debt to that man. He will... Just don’t get in debt to him.”

“Evan, I know what he did to you. I won’t—”

“Promise me.” Evan growled the words through clenched teeth. A vein on his neck bulged.

Brice dropped a hand onto his brother’s shoulder. “I won’t go into debt to the likes of him. You know I wouldn’t do that. I’d lose my house and move in with your hide before missing a payment to that man.”

“Good.” Evan lifted his shoulders, making Brice’s hand fall, and strode away from him. “So, what—exactly—is going on?”

“When I first started, shipments were good. But last winter was colder than normal and there was less of a demand. Last summer, since things seemed to be going well, I purchased more boats. And not just barges, all different kinds. If business had kept up like it had been, I would have been able to start socking away money. But it didn’t. Do you know how expensive upkeep on a boat is?”

Evan shrugged and glanced around his furniture shop. “Costs a lot more than buying wood.”

“And if those boats are just sitting in dock, taking a space that I have to pay for and not doing anything...they become a red line in my accounting books.”

“You still use actual books? The sort with paper and pens?”

“Stay on topic, will you?”

“Sorry. Too many boats.”

“Better.” Brice turned away from his brother and watched the people seated outside, on vacation, joking with one another. Had he ever taken a break or just gone away from home? Not other than college...and that could hardly have been considered a break. “I think I need to start selling off my boats and cut my fleet to just the two or three that are constantly in use. Then I’ll just pray that none of them break down.”

Short term, the unused boats might be a problem, but they only masked what truly bothered him. Sesser Atwood was the real issue.

What Brice wouldn’t give to get out from under that millionaire’s thumb. Everything the man touched turned bad. Made money, sure. But Atwood’s influence corrupted and did so absolutely. The man cared about success and compounding his money and nothing more. Paying rent to the man for space at the dock irked Brice more than he cared to admit, but other than moving, there’d been no other option when he first started his shipping company.

And moving from Goose Harbor was out of the question. At least while his younger sister still lived at home with his unstable parents. Brice needed to stay nearby, be there for her and take the brunt of their parents’ emotional outbursts whenever he could. He’d done the same for his brothers as much as he could. Besides, Brice knew a thing or two about bullies. He would put up with Sesser’s antics for as long as Laura needed him to.

Which left Brice with no other options. Sesser owned the moorings in Shadowbend, the next town over, as well as Goose Harbor. The property on the other side of town was a state preserve, so no docks there. He would have to go twenty miles up or down the lake in order to dock somewhere the tycoon didn’t own, and that put him too far from his little sister if there was an emergency.

The problem was Sesser charged as many fees as he could think up. It didn’t matter if a ship was taking something away or dropping off goods—Sesser collected money for both. He was the kind of man who walked the line between legal and illegal business dealings but had enough powerful friends in the state that it didn’t matter if he sometimes tipped too far into the illegal.

A sharp pain along the side of his face made Brice realize he was clenching his back molars together. He forced himself to relax with a deep breath. Hadn’t his doctor threatened him with surgery if he didn’t stop grinding his teeth and clenching his jaw all the time?

Too many years spent swallowing words could do that to a man.

Someday Brice would break free of Sesser Atwood and then he’d never deal with the man again. He’d watched Atwood destroy his father, scare his mother and steamroll his youngest brother’s one chance at happiness.

Brice wasn’t about to let the old businessman ruin him too.

“Selling the boats could work.” Evan braced his hands on the counter. “Or you could expand your business.”

“That’s what got me into trouble in the first place.”

“Not like you’re thinking. I mean find more work.”

“Believe me, I’ve tried to secure every contract on Lake Michigan. I’ve done everything to—”

“Sure, every shipping contract, but that’s not what I’m talking about. Think of something else to use the boats for.”

“Like?”

“Hey, just a simple woodworker here.” Evan held up his hands in mock surrender. “I can encourage you. Not actually come up with the ideas on the fly.”

Brice had considered using his boats for fishing tours. But fishing tours were hours of commitment. And this wasn’t the Caribbean. The fish in Lake Michigan might be huge, but there wasn’t all that impressive an assortment to be found.

“Fishing tours?” He tossed the words out to see what his brother would say.

Evan tapped his chin, thinking for a second. “That has merit. Although you’d have to hire someone to give the tours, and that would cost money.”

“I could do them. I know where the best fish—”

“You are many things, but a friendly tour guide is not one of them.”

“Maybe I’ll just sell the boats. Admit my losses and downsize.” He had a smattering of small vessels he’d picked up secondhand. They weren’t hauling boats, but he’d figured they’d be useful for something. So far, they’d been nothing but money pits. He’d sell them. Let them become someone else’s problems.

Evan opened his cash register and removed the drawer of money. “That could work too, and there’s no shame in that plan, but will it ruin you to give yourself one week to brainstorm a few other possible solutions?”