4
In the marina, water lapped lazily against the hull of Bennett’s boat, and seagulls squawked overhead. The day before, he’d stripped the old varnish from teakwood sections of the boat, and today he was sealing the wood.
Working on the boat was therapeutic for him. This morning, he’d put on jazz and mixed a pitcher of freshly squeezed grapefruit juice, courtesy of an old tree on the grounds of the Seabreeze Inn. He helped pick the fruit from the tops of trees no one else could reach. He’d brought his juicer from his house when he leased it and enjoyed squeezing fresh juice for Ivy.
“Hey, old man,” Mitch called out. “Need a helper?”
“Could have used you yesterday for the stripping and sanding. This is the easy part.”
“Why do you think I waited until today?” Mitch climbed aboard.
“Sma
