Virginia McCullough - Something To Treasure

Barb quickly gave the group a rundown of the afternoon programs and then directed everyone to tables in the hall set up for their afternoon coffee break. “I’ll check out the snacks for us,” Barb said before heading out of the meeting room.

Her face still warm with excitement, Dawn stayed put. She wasn’t finished coming down to earth. Gradually, though, her heartbeat slowed and she began to feel like herself again.

She even tried to wiggle her toes inside her black high heels. If her feet could speak, though, they’d beg to be set free from the prison of the shoes. But then she ran her fingers down her opposite arm, enjoying the feel of the silky fabric of her new spring green suit. She chose the perfect color for her fair skin, and for this very occasion, her debut as a speaker at this professional conference. A milestone for Dawn. The award was the icing on the cake.

Finally, her attention back in the present, Dawn noticed a woman lingering in the room. She was occupying herself with looking out the meeting room window. Not much to see from the twenty-third floor, since the glass was being pelted with sleet that blocked the view of Lake Michigan. This April storm had started about the time Dawn had backed out of the driveway of her house in Two Moon Bay, Wisconsin, almost two days ago.

“Hi,” Dawn called out to the tiny older woman with a halo of salt-and-pepper curls. And who was wearing sensible flats, too.

“Hi, yourself,” she said, turning away from the window and approaching the table. “I’m Kym Nation. An old friend of Barb’s. Congratulations on your award, and that terrific talk. And I hung back in the room because I wanted to ask you about that town you’re from.”

Dawn shook the woman’s outstretched hand, amused at the teasing sparkle in Kym’s eyes. She pointed to a chair at the now empty panelists’ table. “Have a seat and tell me what you’d like to know about my corner of the world.”

Kym plunked a thick portfolio on the table. She folded one leg under her as she settled in the chair. “So, you really are from that place with the outrageously cute name, Two Moon Bay?”

Dawn chuckled at Kym’s mock skepticism. “I am, indeed. But people usually call the town’s name charming—or romantic and alluring. Not cute.”

Swatting the air, Kym said, “I know, I’m just joshing you a little. Couldn’t resist.” Her expression becoming serious, she added, “You see, not long ago, I talked to an old acquaintance of mine. He was telling me about his plan to relocate to Two Moon Bay—I had to get my road atlas out and find out where it was.” She paused. “That was a couple of months ago. He might even be there as we speak.”

“Really? Does he happen to have a business?” Dawn asked, more as a joke from one businesswoman to another than a serious question.

“As a matter of fact, he has a tourist business...diving and water tours,” Kym said. “I knew him a few years back when I was based in Key West. We’ve stayed in touch—the occasional phone calls and emails, that sort of thing. He contacted me because he needs some promo help. Brochures, ads, feature stories. And that’s just a start.”

“Tell me more,” Dawn said, curious about the newcomer to her hometown. “It’s true, the party planners are terrific clients, but I’m looking for some fresh challenges.”

“Well, okay, then,” Kym said, her features animated. “He runs scuba diving excursions and much tamer water tours for kids and older folks—anyone of any age who doesn’t want to dive but would like to spend a little time out on a boat. He told me he leased dock space up in Two Moon Bay. He plans to take divers out to some legendary shipwrecks off the coast. That’s his specialty, shipwrecks.” Kym’s eyes sparkled. “I didn’t know there were any wrecks up your way?”

Playfully taking the bait, Dawn held up her left hand and ran her opposite index finger along the outside of her thumb. “People describe Wisconsin like a mitten, and this is the peninsula that forms the thumb. Two Moon Bay is along the lower edge of the peninsula. And there are shipwrecks up and down the whole coast—in all the Great Lakes, as a matter of fact.” She made big circles in the air with her index finger.

Kym threw up her hands in surrender. “Okay, okay, I get it. Seems he was raised on one of those lakes and had relatives who worked on boats way back when. Must have sparked something in him, because he’s been exploring shipwrecks all over the world for years now.”

“Was he a client of yours?” Dawn asked.

Kim paused, frowning. “Not exactly. He had a couple of dive boats in Key West back when my husband and I ran a tourist information kiosk near the docks.” She rubbed at what seemed like an imaginary spot on the back of her hand. Without looking up, she said, “We got to know all the folks doing tours and such.”

Why the hesitation, and why so serious all of a sudden?

“My ex-husband and I got our scuba diving certifications at home and then did some diving in the Caribbean on a vacation once.” Dawn left her discussion of diving at that. Otherwise, she might have meandered into unpleasant memories. She’d only mentioned it to reassure Kym she had what it took to promote a marine business. She trembled a bit inside, but brushed the negative memories out of her mind.

Scuba aside, promoting an outdoor venture appealed, especially now that the cold Midwest winter would soon give way to spring. It wouldn’t be long before the orchards transformed the landscape into clouds of pink and white blossoms and tourists flocked to town.

“We have kayaking and diving businesses operating on the shore in Wisconsin all summer.” In a deliberately amused tone, she added, “By the way, Kym, you wouldn’t believe the number of books written about shipwrecks—just in Lake Michigan alone.”

“So, is it okay if I pass on your information?” Kym patted her portfolio. “I already picked up your press kit off the display table.”

“By all means,” she said. “I’d be happy to talk to your friend. What’s his name?”

Kym stared out into the empty room. “Jerrod Walters.”

Dawn waited, sensing Kym was gathering her thoughts.

“Uh, I don’t want to overstate this, but he’s not...” Kym paused. “He’s not an exuberant kind of guy.”

Hmm...what did that mean? “Could you elaborate on that a little?”

Keeping her gaze lowered, Kym fidgeted with a corner of her portfolio. “Let’s just say he’s known some trouble.”

Dawn released the breath she’d been holding and folded her arms across her chest. “It’s a good thing that’s not a disqualifier. I’ve had a spot of trouble now and again myself.” She expected to see Kym smile at that, but she didn’t.

Despite the woman’s somber expression, Dawn wouldn’t second-guess a referral just yet. Even one new client could mean a solid return on the investment she’d made to come to this conference. Besides, much as she’d enjoyed working with Party Perfect, the thought of a guy with an adventure business whetted her appetite. Hadn’t she come to the conference because she wanted to stretch professionally? This might be the opportunity she’d been looking for.

* * *

JERROD WALTERS PROPPED up the picture of a wooden steamship, the Franklin Stone, against the wall at the end of the table. He’d had the poster-size print of the 280-foot ship framed and it would soon hang in his office in Two Moon Bay. The original oil painting had never been considered a masterpiece. Far from it. An art critic would laugh at the amateurish rendering of the people and the landscape. But Jerrod didn’t care about any of that. The painting showed the steamship burning like a giant torch out in the lake. Men in two lifeboats were rowing to shore and a smaller boat was headed out to meet them. Jerrod could put himself in that painting and play any of the roles, from the captain who’d ordered the ship abandoned to the fisherman on the shore who spotted the distant flames and rowed out to see if he could lend a hand.