Bowie parked along the road and held the door for Luke to jump out. He whistled for his dog to follow him through the freshly mulched flower bed, not ideal, but safer for his dog with the construction trucks clogging the driveway. Together, the pair made their way to the front door, where Bowie inhaled, gave himself a pep talk, and tapped his knuckles against the wood.
It swung open immediately. Brystol stood there wearing khaki shorts, an old Whale Spout shirt that Bowie was sure she’d gotten from her mother, and sneakers, with a sweatshirt in her hand. He opened his mouth to say something but closed it quickly. Staring back at him was his daughter, who looked so much like her mother. Brystol pushed her glasses higher up on her nose and stared back as she tilted her head. He shook the cobwebs from his mind and grinned.
“Is your mom home?”
“No, she and Simi are meeting with the funeral home director. I thought we were going to hang out?”
He nodded and felt stupid for asking about her mother. “You’re right; I just . . .”
“Thought you were looking at my mom from twenty years ago?”
“Yeah.”
Brystol shrugged and stepped outside. Luke whined, waiting for her to pet him. She set her hand on his head while she addressed Bowie. “Nonnie says . . .” She paused, and her lower lip quivered. “I guess I have to talk about her in the past tense now, huh?”
He placed his hand on her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “You can talk about her any way you want. You make the rules when it comes to your grandmother.”
She smiled softly, looked down at Luke and finally at Bowie again. “Nonnie always said I looked like my mom when she was younger. Sometimes, when she was tired, she called me Brooklyn. And my grandma sometimes says the same thing, which is why she calls me Little B.”
Little B. He loved that nickname for her and hoped to one day use it, if she would allow it. He motioned for her to walk ahead of him, with Luke leading the way. When they approached his truck, he went around to the passenger side and held the door for her. Of course, Luke took this open invitation to leap in first, planting himself in the middle, and before he went to climb in himself, he made sure everything he needed for their outing was secured in the back.
As he drove through town, heading toward the bridge, he waved at people he saw. Some called his name or hollered a hello to Luke. “You’re popular,” Brystol stated as they came to a stoplight.
“That happens when you live in the same place your entire life.”
“Do you know everyone?”
He thought about her question for a moment before answering. “You know, I think I do, unless they just moved here.”
“Do people move here often?”
“We might get a couple new families once or twice a year. It doesn’t take long for them to acclimate and get to know everyone.”
Brystol looked at herself in the side mirror. “Do you think people would know me if I moved here?”
Yes, especially when I tell everyone you’re my daughter. “Of course, they already do.”
“Small-town tea, right?”
“Tea?” he asked, to which Brystol giggled.
“Tea is gossip.”
Bowie laughed and pressed the gas pedal to move his truck along the road. “Gossip in town runs rampant. Everyone knows something, and sometimes that something is so far from the truth. You grin and move on. But, if you ever want to know the truth, you ask Peggy.” He pointed at the diner as they passed by. “Peggy somehow knows everything and will set everyone straight if they’re making things up.”
“I sort of think it would be fun to live in a place where everyone knows you and they wave when they see you.”
He nodded. Living in Cape Harbor definitely had its perks, but it also had its drawbacks. At times, he hated that everyone knew his business and was surprised Carly was able to keep Brystol’s true identity a secret for as long as she had. Part of him was very resentful she had, because he could’ve had his daughter years ago.
Bowie drove in silence the rest of the way to their destination. When he parked, Luke let out a satisfied bark, and Brystol laughed. He could listen to her laugh all day and never tire of the sound. “Come on,” he said as he opened his door. Brystol did the same, and Luke seemed torn on who to follow. When she called for him, his dog happily went to his daughter, and this made him smile. He could live with his best friend choosing Brystol over him. He took the fishing poles and bait box from the back of his truck and motioned for Brystol to follow him.