Something To Treasure. Virginia McCullough

of listing sheets for rental houses. The cramped hotel suite in Chicago he currently called home motivated him to find two summer rental houses in Two Moon Bay. He needed one house for himself, his little girl, Carrie, and her nanny, Melody, and a second for his crew, Wyatt and Rob.

      Maybe being settled in a real home would do the trick and wipe out the lingering anxiety over his new direction. In his rational mind he was certain he’d made the right decisions, but on some days, he had trouble making his heart understand.

      His buzzing phone signaled a text from Melody. He read it quickly, to be sure it was just a routine check-in and nothing urgent. Melody and Carrie had left the zoo and would stop for lunch at their new favorite hole-in-the-wall to get a couple of Chicago’s famous hot dogs before coming back to the hotel.

      Jerrod smiled to himself. When the rain had stopped, Carrie, who’d celebrated her fifth birthday only last month with a trip to the Lincoln Park Zoo, had wanted to go visit her animal friends. She couldn’t get enough of the zoo families—giraffes, chimpanzees, even lions—that lived in the zoo less than a mile away from the hotel.

      Fortunately, the rain and bluster had left them with a cloudy but dry late Saturday afternoon that made it possible for the zoo trip. Jerrod shook his head sadly. In order to give Carrie a real home again, rather than this residential hotel, he’d need to uproot her once more. He hoped she wouldn’t mind, not as long as she still had Melody, who, lucky for him, was willing to make the move with him and Carrie.

      In spite of losses and changes no child should have to endure, Carrie was a lively little girl, about as well-adjusted as Jerrod could imagine. That was great, but he was still finding his way to healing from the past. Carrie was the most important part of his present. More than anything he had left in the world, she was his heart.

      His phone alerted him to a new email. Nice surprise, he thought when he saw the name, Kym Nation, his old friend. In his mind’s eye, he could see Kym’s welcoming face as she greeted tourists and encouraged them to explore Key West. She and her husband had worked side by side in a kiosk and promoted every Hemingway tour and shrimp shack the iconic little city offered. But they’d eventually gone home to landlocked Kansas City.

      Kym’s message delivered exactly what he wanted to hear:

      Ran into a PR consultant today—lives in that 2 moon town you told me about. How ’bout that? Heard her speak on a panel this morning. Impressive, experienced, familiar with diving. She won an award for her work, too. A dazzler. Call her.

      Kym had included this award-winning dazzler’s name, Dawn Larsen, her email address and a phone number.

      The message immediately lifted his mood. She no doubt had her reasons for throwing in that bit about Dawn Larsen being a dazzler. She’d known Augusta, Jerrod’s wife, and Dabny, his older daughter, long before Jerrod had lost them both. He’d stayed in touch with Kym and Guy, who regularly expressed their concerns about how he was recovering—or not—from the tragedy that left him to raise Carrie alone.

      Jerrod could read between the lines. Kym believed this dazzler was a woman he just might like. No matter how hard they tried, his friends couldn’t perform the miracle it would take for him to open his heart to another woman. Ever. On the other hand, he was a man of action, and he needed public relations help...now. He called the number Kym provided. Irrationally, his energy dropped a notch when he reached Dawn Larsen’s voice mail, but he followed through and left a message asking her to return his call.

      What had he expected, anyway? That she’d pick up on the first ring? Kym had only met this woman that day at the conference. Kym didn’t know he was still in Chicago. Even he’d expected to be settled into Two Moon Bay by now. But finding the right tour and dive boats had taken longer than he’d planned. Meanwhile, the search for housing went on. Too bad he couldn’t hire Kym herself. She’d made a successful transition from being a Key West booster to an independent PR consultant in Kansas.

      Grabbing his jacket, he headed out of the hotel and down Clark Street toward the hot dog place a block away where he’d find Carrie and Melody. His little girl spotted him as he entered the restaurant, but not before he’d had a chance to take in the vision of his child with her dark hair in two long braids. She was swinging her sneakered feet from the molded plastic bench of the booth. A basket of fries sat in front of her, along with a squeeze bottle of ketchup.

      “Hi, Daddy.” She raised her hand and waved. “We’re having hot dogs. Want one?” She scooted over to make room for him and patted the seat the way he did when he wanted her to sit next to him.

      He gave her a one-arm shoulder hug and kissed the top of her head, but moved his upper body just in time to avoid the smear of ketchup getting ready to transfer from her mouth to his jacket. “As a matter of fact, baby, that’s why I’m here. Melody sent me a text saying you were stopping for lunch.” He made a show of studying the counter. “Do you think they have any hot dogs left?”

      She craned her neck to look behind him. “I think so—better hurry.”

      His phone chimed the familiar melody of the old Jimmy Buffet song about a lovely cruise. He kept it on his phone because Carrie knew all the words. Her favorite line was about the sailors having water in their shoes.

      Sure enough, Dawn Larsen’s name appeared on the screen. Holding up one finger to Melody to indicate he needed to take the call, Jerrod stepped outside.

      “Hello, Ms. Larsen. Thanks for returning my call.”

      “Dawn, please.”

      A light, pleasant, voice—he was grateful. “Well, by any name you come highly recommended. My pal Kym Nation is your newest fan.”

      “I feel the same way about her, and she thinks the world of you.” She paused. “I understand your plans for shipwreck diving excursions are well underway. So, you’ve already moved into your dock space in Two Moon Bay?”

      He pressed his finger over his other ear to block out the street noise. “Not quite. Only one of my two boats is up in Two Moon Bay. I’m still in Chicago, where I’ve been outfitting the tour boat. My crew is bringing her up in a few days. Admittedly, my time line is short.” No sense trying to make excuses for it, either, he thought. “You see, I made the decision to open a Great Lakes location only a couple of months ago. That means I’m still a stranger in the area. But I got in under the wire and bought some ad space in some of your local tourist papers. It’s a start, but obviously, I need a lot more.”

      “I’d be happy to listen to your plans and see how I might be able to help you. I’m curious about your business, of course.”

      Businesslike, professional, Jerrod thought, and he had a hunch Dawn meant what she said. “If you have time, I could come to your hotel and meet you for a cup of coffee. I realize you’re busy at the conference, so I’ll understand if that’s not possible. Kym had high praise for the talk you gave about one of your successful campaigns.”

      “It was great fun,” Dawn said, “but between you and me, Kym inspired everyone, too. She just finished a speech about the need for professional reinvention when life intervenes. I think we learn more from each other’s stories than we do from flowcharts and ten-point strategies.”

      True, Jerrod agreed. He was up for hearing someone else’s stories. He’d become sick and tired of his own.

      “I’m going on and on a bit here,” Dawn said with a lilt in her voice, “so I’ll get to the point. The conference ends tomorrow at one, and I’ll have a little time before I need to catch my train. Any chance you can come around that time? We could talk before I grab a cab and head to Union Station.”

      “Sounds doable,” he said, trying to hold back his sudden and inexplicable eagerness to sit down and talk to her. “Why don’t I meet you in the lobby by the registration desk around one fifteen or so? I’ll check your website, so I’ll know what you look like.”

      “That’s good...uh, I was going to say I’ll be the woman with the rolling suitcase, but since this is a hotel, that’s not particularly helpful,” she