Chapter 5: The Visitor
The bell over the door at Hargrove Marine gave a soft chime, the kind of sound a store makes when it is ready for business. Nate Hargrove stepped inside and paused, letting his eyes adjust to the bright showroom after the morning sun on the waterfront.
He wore his faded canvas jacket, the one with worn cuffs and a pocket that had carried his logbook for years.
Cole Davenport saw him first. Cole was near the center display, straightening a model boat, and his gaze moved over Nate in one quick sweep: jacket, shoes, no briefcase, no watch that caught the light.
"Morning," Cole said, walking over with a practiced smile that did not quite reach his eyes. "Can I help you find something?"
"Good morning," Nate said. "I am just looking around, if that is all right. It has been a while since I stood in a room full of boats like this."
Cole nodded, but his smile tightened. "Sure, take a look. If you need parts or a repair estimate, the parts counter is just down that hall. The fellows there can help you faster than I can."
Nate studied him with mild interest. "Parts? No, thank you. I am interested in the boats themselves. The big ones have a way of drawing a man in."
"They do," Cole said. "But these are serious boats, with serious prices. Most folks start with a brochure, or with something smaller, before they spend time on the flagship floor."
"I understand," Nate said evenly. "A brochure is a fine start. May I still walk the floor?"
Cole hesitated. The record was on his mind, and the ten o'clock walkthrough was coming, and a man in a faded jacket did not fit the morning he had planned. "Of course, look all you want," he said. "Just stay on this side of the displays for now. We keep the flagship roped off until a walkthrough starts."
From across the showroom, Abby Collins had been watching. She saw the way Cole's attention had already drifted toward the door, as if he were waiting for a better customer to replace this one. She saw Nate standing alone, patient, his hands relaxed at his sides, and something about his calm made her cross the floor.
"Good morning," Abby said, with a warm smile. "Welcome to Hargrove Marine. I am Abby. Can I get you a cup of coffee?"
Nate turned, and his face softened. "Coffee would be very kind. Thank you, Abby."
"Black, or with cream?" she asked.
"Black is fine," he said. "And a seat, if you have one near the window. I like to look at the boats and the water at the same time."
"We have just the seat," Abby said. "Right over here. It is the best view in the store, in my opinion."
Cole watched them go, and he frowned. "Abby, we have the walkthrough at ten," he called. "Do not get tied up."
"I will be ready," Abby said without slowing down. "A cup of coffee only takes a minute."
She led Nate to a small seating area near the glass, where two armchairs faced the showroom and the harbor beyond. "Here you go," she said, returning with a mug. "Careful, it is hot."
"Thank you," Nate said, wrapping his hands around the mug. "You are kind to offer. Some places forget that a welcome costs nothing."
Abby sat in the chair across from him, not hovering, not rushing. "Do you sail?" she asked.
"I have spent a part of my life on the water," Nate said. "Not as much lately, but the water has a way of calling a man back."
Abby nodded. "I understand that feeling. I did not sail much as a girl, but working here taught me to love the boats, and to listen first."
Nate smiled. "Listening first is rarer than it should be, and worth more than a sales pitch. A boat should fit a life, not just a dock."
Cole passed by again, glancing at his watch. "Abby, ten o'clock is coming up," he said, his voice brisk. "We need the floor clear and ready."
Abby stood, but she spoke to Nate first. "You are welcome to stay right here," she said. "Enjoy the coffee. I will be back after the walkthrough, if you would like to talk more about the boats."
"I would like that," Nate said. "Take your time. I am in no hurry."
As Abby walked away, Nate settled back in the chair and looked around the showroom he had built. The polish was new, the displays were new, but the light was the same light he remembered. He sipped his coffee, patted the logbook in his jacket pocket, and waited to see what kind of store his store had become.