First Day in the Caribbean 06

Not a lot of action today (hey, the guy has to get rest sometime!), but more character development.

*****

About 11:30 Octavia carefully got up, took a quick shower, and headed to Anchovie's.

About 5:00, Mary woke up and kissed Asch awake, making sure he was aware of her bare breasts, and getting him hard with her hand. Then she led him to the shower. "Tell me that scrubbing narrative like you did for Octavia."

He pulled her to him, her back to his front, and began, carrying out his actions as he described them. "I just love running my soapy hands down your neck and over and around your breasts, circling them slowly, and feeling your erect nipples under my splayed fingers. Then I like to caress my way down your waist and into your naked treasure, front and back, making sure you are nice and clean, then running my hands up and down your luscious thighs. Something like that?"

She sighed contentedly. "I feel really clean and really dirty at the same time." She turned around and soaped his genital area, enjoying that he was so hard. She pressed her belly against his, moving his member between her legs. "I really wish I didn't have to get on that plane." She sighed, "But if you're lucky, there'll be a next time. Lessee—if we hurry, I have time for a couple strips of bacon."

At the restaurant, they ordered breakfast and chatted pleasantly with Octavia and the owner, never letting on that anything special had happened, except for twinkles in several eyes. Mary wolfed down four strips of bacon and a cup of coffee, and caught a jitney to the airport, and the owner retreated to the office.

"Thank you for a most delightful and unexpected evening," Asch said. "I'm really thankful that I know you. And Mary."

"I am too. So is Mary. It was really cute seeing you two curled up together when I got up to go to work."

"Let me see if I understand your schedule. You get off here about 7 in the morning, and start at Rita's about 6 in the evening. That doesn't leave a lot of time to sleep and recreate. I suppose you get up about 4 in the afternoon, right?"

"Close. I start at Rita's at 7, and that'll be the day when I get a whole eight hours of sleep. I get home, throw in a load of laundry, and conk out until three-ish. You get used to it. I'm glad for my days off, though." She leered at him. "Especially now."

"You have any whole days off?"

"Sunday, sort of. They shut down everything and roll up the sidewalks. Even the cruise ships are in their home ports on the weekend. So Rita's is closed that evening, and Monday is slow for restaurants, so they let me have Monday morning off. It works out pretty well."

"Well, I ain't got no schedule, yet. I need to do some work for Lydia, and go exploring. I think I'll take a scuba class. So I guess anytime you want to see me or me to see you, let me know. I can adjust my schedule." He reflected. "Don't want to wear it down to nothing, y'know."

She snorted. "Somehow I don't think we're anywhere near your limit." She paused. "So I'll be awake around 3:30. That'll give me time to have a chat with Mom. If you care to stop by, I'd like to have her meet you."

"Okay. Then maybe we can go for a walk before I have to release you to Rita's."

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A not-quite-heavyset woman in late middle age looked up uninterestedly from the TV. Asch had arrived, and Octavia was introducing him. "Mom, this is Ashurbanipal Jones. I'm going to take him around town and show him where everything is. He's been in town for a couple days, and he's a pretty nice guy, so I wanted you to meet him. He's staying up at Lydia's, and he bought a bike from Bill. Asch, this is my mom, Vivian."

Asch turned on the charm. "Ah, Vivian. Latin for lively! I'm so sorry to hear about your husband, but I'm delighted to get the chance to meet you. You raised a fine family, and all by yourself. Amazing." He spotted a doily under a photo on the end table, and did a double-take. "Is this one of your pieces? My grandmother used to do tatting. All I remember is that you use a bobbin to tie clove hitches and then pull the thread to turn them inside out."

She pulled out the piece and held it in her hands, contemplating it. "It's called upsetting the knot," she glanced at him, "and I'm impressed that anyone would even recognize tatting, let alone know something about it. This piece I did in high school. Here let me show you something." She heaved herself out of her chair and headed for a cabinet. One of the drawers contained a whole pile of delicate, frilly tatting. The top one was unfinished, bobbin still attached.

Asch carefully picked up the unfinished piece and its bobbin. "And here's one you're working on! I can hardly wait to see it when it's done." He handed her the unfinished piece and carefully rifled through the pile. "I suppose you have a consignment spot at one of the stores? This is really impressive work."

She passed the piece from hand to hand, then laid it on the table. "Thank you. There's about three weeks' worth of work left on this. If you're still in town, I'll show it to you when it's done." She absently reached into another drawer and pulled out a set of instructions. "Well, you kids go tour the town. Have a glass of wine for me." She turned her eye to Asch. "Keep an eye on her. She used to be a wild one."

They said their goodbyes and headed out. As soon as they rounded the corner, Octavia grabbed Asch and hugged him. "That is the most she has spoken in years!" She jumped up and down with glee. "Asch, if this lasts, I might never let you leave this island. And she stopped looking at the TV! And she warned you about me! She actually acted like a mother! Oh Asch, I love love love love love you," and she hugged him again.

Asch smiled. "I guess I lucked out mentioning that doily. It pays to know a little about a lot of things. Maybe she was just waiting for an excuse to return to the land of the living. I better come back in three weeks, too."

They walked around town; she introducing him to more people than he could possibly remember, and they arrived at Rita's about five minutes before she had to report in. They went to the back door, and she hugged and kissed him again. "Thank you again for what you did to Mom." She smiled at him and skipped through the door.

Asch shuffled off, thinking about doilies. He picked up his bike and headed for the north terminal, the one where Mario's bike shop wasn't. He did some asking around and discovered that in principle, everyone who wasn't part of an international chain was willing to sell their store for the right price. But he did find one place where the guy was clearly tired of struggling along and had actually been thinking about shutting down. The place was a little run down, but it had a good location. Not deep, but a wide front. Two storeys, plenty of room for a big bike rental sign and a repair shop. Asch didn't make any promises, but did ask if he could come back in the next couple days with a friend. The wizened old fellow had a look of skeptical hope in his eyes when Asch left.

Another place, attached to a building that contained a big international linen dealer, offered local crafts, mostly objects d'art that had nothing to do with linens. Asch asked the proprietress, a large black woman, if she might have some interest in needlework accessories that went with the linen store. She gave him a blank look for a moment, then the wheels started to turn. "Y'know, mister, that might be a good idea ifn' I offered the right items. People they come outta that store, they just spent huge amounts—or nuthin. I been thinking that my cheaper stuff looks attractive to them (ha even though it's overpriced). That works okay, but what if now they noticed the perfect doily or table runner, also at a good-looking price. You don't look like no sewing expert yourself. What are you, one-a them slave driving hire-the-natives guys?"

"No, but I found an artisan who's been making stuff for years, and she might like to get her money's worth out of it. She doesn't even know I'm thinking about this; I just thought I'd do a little asking around."

"Well, you bring in a couple samples, and we can talk. See this here set of shelves? It'd be good for displaying flatwork, and I can put these trinkets anywhere."

They parted amicably, and Asch headed for his room and supper.

"I was beginning to wonder if you ever ate," Lydia remarked when he pulled in. "I was about to think about putting this in the fridge."

Asch looked sheepish. "I really apologize. I really should give you some kind of idea about my schedule, or at least abide by some rules. Shall we say that if I'm not back by 6:30, I'm on my own? I can certainly eat leftovers, and you have a microwave. I admit Rita's has been occupying my culinary attention lately. —And this sure looks good too!"

Lydia smirked. Mollified, she sat down to watch him eat. "I don't think it's Rita's food that has your attention."

Asch shrugged. "She is fun to be around. But these past couple days have been pretty, hm, unscheduled. No routine yet," he said between mouthfuls. "I got a couple ideas to run by you, if you'd care to hear them."

"Shoot."

"Okay. First. I met Bill, Octavia's brother. I think he's frustrated with his bike business, and if he had his heart's desire, he'd buy a sailboat and take tourists on fishing trips. Is he honest, honorable? How good are his people skills? Can he sail and does he know where the fish are? How viable should the bike shop be? Would he like renting bikes better if he made more money at it?"

Lydia sat back. "Well! Okay. Let's start with the boating. He used to go out with his dad a lot, so I imagine he knows his way around these waters, and he knows how to sail. No kid on a sailboat around here doesn't know how to sail by the time they're ten. Or earlier. Bike shop; well, he kind of fell into that. Not long after the wreck, a guy he knew retired and offered him the business in exchange for a stipend. Bill honored the agreement until the fellow passed away. I'd say he got a pretty good deal. But successful or not, his heart isn't really in it, I don't think. He's always talking about saving instead of putting money back in the business. He's getting by but he could do better. But I think if it did better, he'd just save toward a boat faster. But he's not making bad business decisions, he's just not very aggressive about building the business. I think he ought to get a location closer to the ships where there's more foot traffic, but he's content to stay there. As to his character, I think that's a call you'll have to make. He's not a crook, though."

Asch mulled this over, looking off toward the doorway. "How's his, hmm—how do I say this—would he be able to convince people to hire him for these sailing outings? Would he be accepted into the boating community and not get into turf wars?"

Lydia thought a moment. "Yes, I think people would be willing to hire his boat. It's kind of a lottery anyway. People hire sailboats largely at random from the cruise ships, especially since it's pretty easy to get on the lines' approved list. Bill Sr. and Gus were well liked and respected, and a lot of folks genuinely mourned their passing. I think Bill would fit in okay. They'd even encourage him out of respect for his dad's memory."

"Hmm. That makes sense." Asch sat up. "Okay, next. What do you know about Vivian's needlework? Didn't she used to be an English teacher?"

"Ah, Vivian and her needlework." Lydia nodded reflectively. "Battenberg lace, hairpin lace, bobbin lace, tatting, crochet, knitting, crewel, cross stitch, appliqué, she could do it all. Hardanger, Hapsburg—she was a walking encyclopedia; it increased my vocabulary just watching her. She had a dozen books about it, and I think she knew every technique in every one of them. Practically majored in home ec in high school, then got a teaching degree and taught locally for a couple years. Yup, English. Never stopped the needlecraft, though. Why do you ask?"

"Octavia introduced us today, and I noticed some tatting. It seemed to pull her out of her depression."

"Well, that would be a miracle. She never recovered after the wreck." She shook her head sadly. She looked up. "So why are you asking all these questions?"

"Okay, tell me if I'm being presumptuous or poking my nose into business that's not mine." And he told her about his recent conversations at the terminal.

Lydia ruminated for a while. "I'd say don't do everything at once. You might be an angel from heaven for all I know, but start with something small, like you did recommending that Bill hire that girl, and let things develop naturally. You got some good ideas, but if you get pushy, they'll resent it.

Just then Asch's phone chimed. It was a text from Bill. He raised an eyebrow and showed it to Lydia.

It read, "Come by for a beer on me."

Then he went up to write for a while before he hit the sack.