means, essentially, that I haven’t used my skills in almost ten years. I’ve been waiting for Floyd to be old enough so I could coach his teams.”
“The job does come with a stipend, and the hours would be after school during the respective seasons,” Miss Phaedra says. “I’d love to be able to pass your name on to the head of school, and she can talk with you more about it.”
It’s exactly what Baker is looking for, and yet he doesn’t commit right away because he still has to go back to Houston for the auction this coming weekend. There’s a quiet but persistent voice in Baker’s head telling him that it’s crazy—and, worse, irresponsible—to move to the Caribbean with Floyd.
He came down here for one reason only and that’s Ayers. But Ayers is with Mick. And Ayers was clear that she wouldn’t even entertain the possibility of a relationship with Baker until he had a job or an opportunity here on St. John.
The whole thing is risky. Baker can leave Houston, take the job at Gifft Hill, and move here, but Ayers might still stay with Mick.
The evening that Anna responds with K, Irene comes home from work with some fresh wahoo steaks from her charter. She grills them for Baker and Floyd, and because Cash is out somewhere, it’s just the three of them eating dinner on the deck. It’s nice. Irene is in a good mood; her frame of mind seems better now that she’s working on Huck’s fishing boat, though she’s not her old self by any means. Baker tells her that Floyd liked the school but he doesn’t say anything about the job offer yet. He reminds his mother that he and Floyd are headed back to Houston on Friday for the auction.
“Right,” Irene says, though it’s clear she’s forgotten about it. “But you’re coming back, yes?”
“Yes?” Baker says. “I think so. I mean, yes.” He wants to sound definitive but the truth is, he’s not sure. He’s packing everything they brought down, just in case.
“When?” Irene says. “When will you be back?”
“I don’t have return tickets yet,” Baker says. “Though I can get them, of course, at a moment’s notice. I have to figure some stuff out when I get to Houston. What to do about the house, my car, that kind of thing.”
“Of course,” Irene says. “No one expects you to drop everything and move down here. Though that’s what I did.” She laughs—at her own crazy spontaneity, maybe. “And that’s what your brother did.”
“Where is Cash tonight?” Baker asks. He suddenly gets a bad feeling. Cash didn’t come back after Treasure Island. Did he go somewhere with Ayers? Out to dinner? This is what Baker has privately feared about Cash and Ayers working together, that they would become chummy, that Cash would, somehow, manage to charm her.
“He had an incident on the boat today, I guess,” Irene says. “Passenger got drunk and Cash was called on to help get the girl home. Turned out the girl had a friend that Cash knew. From that restaurant you both like so much?”
“La Tapa?” Baker says.
“That must be it,” Irene says. “And I think he went out with the friend. Something like that.”
Baker pushes his chair away from the table. “Was it Ayers, Mom? Is he out with Ayers?”
“It wasn’t Ayers,” Irene says. She throws Baker an exasperated look. “You boys, honestly. No, it was some other name. British, unusual…”
“Tilda?” Baker says.
“Yes!” Irene says. “He went out with Tilda.”
“Who’s Tilda?” Floyd asks.
“A friend of your uncle’s,” Irene says.
Baker can’t describe his relief. He tousles Floyd’s hair. “You want some ice cream, buddy? They had red velvet cake at the Starfish Market.”
Baker puts Floyd to bed, then decides to turn in himself, mostly because there’s nothing else to do. Cash is still out and Baker has no other friends. If he were at home in Houston right now, he would smoke some weed and crash out in front of the TV—he needs to catch up on Game of Thrones—but he can’t watch that with Irene around.
His phone rings. This, he thinks, will be Anna, just getting home from work at nine o’clock at night. He steels himself. It would be just like Anna to have glanced at his text distractedly and responded with K, but then, after running the whole thing past Louisa, suddenly have a list of objections.
Baker should have texted Louisa.
But his display says Ayers.
“Ayers?” he says.
“Hey.” Her voice sounds funny—sad, trembling, like she’s