He started to slide his hot dog into its roll but stopped. "I don't like mustard."
"Oh, just eat it," she snapped. "And answer my question. How come Levi was willing to work with Abram, but he fires you for cavorting with the enemy?"
"Because before I arrived, both gangs had the same agenda."
"And that was?"
"To see you happy."
Willa stopped with her hot dog halfway to her mouth. "See me happy? As if it's any of their damn business to begin with. But wait a minute-are you saying they don't have the same agenda now? Does one of the gangs not want to see me happy?"
He took a large bite of his hot dog, made a face, and swallowed. "No, they both still want you happy; they just don't agree on how that should happen." He started dishing out the potato salad. "The coffee clubbers want you to marry me, like Bram thought you should. But the Grand Pointers think you should marry a local man."
Willa gaped at him. "You're funning me, right? I know this town is filled to its eyeballs with bored senior citizens, but they can't possibly be that invested in my life. Besides, you've got it backward. If anyone would want to see me married to you, it would be the Grand Pointers. They're retired executives and would want me to marry a businessman. The locals would want me to marry a local."
"Nope." He shook his head. "Silas, Maureen, and Levi cornered me in the break room the other day and told me point-blank that if I tried blackmailing you with that bequest, I could find myself inside a burlap sack on a lobster boat on a one-way trip out to sea."
"They threatened you?"
"They told me not to take it personally, just seriously."
"But they liked Abram."
"They claim they like me, too, just not as your husband." He shrugged. "At first, they thought Bram's plan was a good one, but after he died, they started thinking over the part about forcing you to get pregnant and decided he'd taken things too far. In the five days it took you to sail home, they'd persuaded themselves that the whole thing was a bad idea. They believe you should find a nice, easygoing local man to settle down with and that if you don't want babies, you shouldn't have any."
Her workers, her friends , were deciding whom she should fall in love with? And marry? And not have babies with?
Sam lifted her chin with his finger. "They love you, Willa. They may be misguided in their thinking, but they love you."
"And the coffee clubbers? What's their excuse?"
He smiled. "They're equally sincere, honey. They want to see you happily married, too-just not to a local man."
"But why not?"
He slid his arm around her shoulder. "One, they'd like to have some fresh young blood move into town.
And two, they told me there's not a local man within a hundred miles who would marry you. You've got a bit of a reputation for stirring up trouble. Then there's the fact that you're a wild woman at sea. There aren't many coastal men who can live with a woman who can outsail them."
Willa was shocked senseless at how everyone had an opinion about what she should and shouldn't do.
"You know what I think?" Sam asked.
She refused even to hazard a guess.
"I think I should open my own business and put the coffee clubbers on my payroll."
"What?" she yelped, pulling away to face him. "Are you nuts?"
"I doubt they'll put their paychecks back into my business, though. I have a feeling they could use the money. Paul Dubay needs a new lawn mower; the one he drives to coffee is on its last leg."
"Paul Dubay drives a lawn mower to the coffee shop?"
"Right downMain Street . He claims the ‘damn government' wouldn't renew his license because his eyesight is bad."
"Paul Dubay is more than ninety years old! He shouldn't drive anything that goes faster than a walker. And don't kid yourself; your new best buddies are a long way from living hand-to-mouth. They simply can't bring themselves to spend any of their money, because they worked too damn hard to get it." She shook her head. "We're getting off track, Sam. You are not setting yourself up as Keelstone Cove's social welfare system, and you're not opening a business just to give the coffee clubbers something to do."
"Why not? You started Kent Caskets to give your people something to do."
"I needed a job. I hired them because I didn't know anything about running a business."
"You told me you had a job at Grand Point Bluff."
"I decided I wanted to be my own boss. After Levi built a casket in the wood shop, the manager at Grand Point wouldn't let me do anything creative with the residents anymore. He made me dismantle the wood shop and turned it into a bingo parlor. So I quit."
"And the residents bankrolled Kent Caskets?"
"No. Emmett did."
"Emmett? He's your silent partner?"
"Yeah. Why are you surprised?"
"I was under the impression that Emmett had hoped to turn Sengatti Yachts over to you one day. Why would he help you start a brand-new business?"
"Because his wife had just been diagnosed with inoperable cancer, and he told me he wished he was as
emotionally strong as Levi and could build Gretchen a casket, too. He tried, but he couldn't do it, so I told him I would. I was going through my divorce at the time, and I think Emmett saw my opening Kent Caskets as some sort of therapy for me. So he put up the money. He said he had as much faith in my being a success as someone had faith in him nearly fifty years ago."
She suddenly gasped, touching Sam's sleeve. "Emmett told me he owed Abram a very large favor. Your grandfather must have given him the money to start Sengatti Yachts. They met when Abram was attendingMaineMaritimeAcademy . The timing's about right."
"That makes sense." Sam folded his arms over his chest. "So, what sort of business should I open?
Something to do with food, maybe? I've been eating out a lo lately, and I've had some fantastic chowders. I should probably do something different. How about lobster cakes? You know, like crab cakes? I've rarely seen lobster cakes on any of the menus. And we could eventually ship them worldwide. That's something the clubbers could do. And I'd hire able-bodied people, like you did, to pick up the slack."
"Sam, you are not opening a business inMaine ."
"Why not? In three months, I'm going to need a new job."
Willa scrambled to her feet. "But not here! You're a city boy, born and raised. And you haven't lost Tidewater yet. That company needs you."
"Even if Tidewater survives, it only needs Ben," he said, also getting to his feet. "And I may be a city boy, but I really likeMaine ." He frowned at her. "What's so upsetting about my opening a business here?"
"Because you're doing it for all the wrong reasons." Now that he was standing, Willa got her first good look at him. "Oh, my God. Sam, what's happened to you?"
"What?" he asked, looking down at himself, then rubbed his baggy flannel shirt over his not-so-flat belly.
"This, you mean?" he asked with a grin. "I started thinking about how you got David to divorce you, and I decided you might be on to something. I figured if I gained a few pounds, women would either look right past me or take the time to know the real me. I wasn't worried about your reaction, because you wouldn't care if a man is five-foot-two, bald, and cross-eyed; if you love him, it's for real." He rubbed his belly again. "A very clever idea, Willa. Just like giving the senior citizens something to do."
She was utterly speechless.
He turned away and walked to the fridge and came back with a bottle of champagne. "It's not Dom Perignon, but I've put myself on a budget." He started unwinding the wire. "Will you toast my new adventure with me?"
"Sam," she said, covering his hand to stop him. "You don't know the first thing about making lobster cakes."
"Phil Grindle used to own a lobster shack. I'll get him to oversee that part of the operation. And Doris Ambrose is a fantastic watercolorist. She can design the labels and advertising."