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rolled her eyes and took Jean’s hand off her arm. “For jeesh sake, it’ll be a cup of coffee and maybe a few smooches. Get a grip, girl. You act like there’s something wrong with my BS detector. All I ever do is think things through. It’s constantly one analysis after another. I need an interesting diversion. Besides, he didn’t have that serial-killer personality. He didn’t seem to have any ulterior motives.” Van looked back out toward the bay to hide her grin as she remembered how his flirtation made her feel. It would be disappointing if he never called. She frowned as she caught sight of a red triangle fluttering in the distance.
    “Small-craft warnings are out,” Van mused.
    “Really? But the weather seems so clear.”
    “As any sailor can tell you, calm as the bay seems, it can get you if you don’t pay attention.”
    “Speaking of the devil being in the details, have you see Charlie Sollars today?”
    “No,” Van replied, her eyes going back to Jean. “I can hear him clipping hedges around the back of the house. Why?”
    “Cut his hair real short—looks like a porcupine.”
    “Charlie doesn’t have enough hair to look like a porcupine,” Van said, laughing.
    “You know what I mean. It’s sticking up all over where he has it. By the way, how much do you pay him to clip the hedges?”
    “Nothing. You know Charlie—busy hands are happy hands. He won’t take money for anything he does. I love that man … reminds me of my dad. When I first moved down here Charlie and his wife, Debbie, took me under their wing. I think I filled a void. Their only daughter had run away from home as soon as she was old enough, never to be heard from again. He’s been over here a lot since Debbie died—really took her passing hard. They were married forty years. Listening to them, you’d think they were oil and water, bickering all the time, but you could see the true love right below the surface. She died in his arms.”
    “Aww, that’s sweet. He does have a kind look about him, as long as you stay out of his flower beds. Hey, did you hear about Charlie and the bikers?”
    Van laughed and shook her head. This sounded good. All Charlie stories were good—even better if he was doing the telling.
    “Well, you know the house down the street from Charlie’s mom’s house, the one that sold on Eighth Street?” The people that bought it are bikers. Seems they were driving people crazy, roaring up and down the street. Well, Charlie decided he was gonna set them straight on proper behavior. He went over one night and knocked on their door, all set to give them life’s lecture. When he knocked on the door the biggest ass-fucking Diablos biker—
    “Jean!” Van said, eyebrows raised in feigned shock. “Do you eat with that mouth?”
    Jean chuckled. “As a fisherman’s granddaughter, I would think you’d heard this all before.”
    “Oh, I have, but the first and last time I tried to repeat it, my grandmother washed my mouth out with soap— Zest soap! I think I was five!”
    “Listen, do you want me to finish this or not? A big-ass Diablo answered the door and asked what he wanted. Charlie’s no fool. He forgot all about the life lesson. He asked if they wanted to donate money to his church. The biker said sure, and now every time they see Charlie, they give him money. Isn’t that hysterical?”
    Van laughed. “Poor Charlie! It’s a wonder they didn’t beat him to a pulp. I don’t know what I’d do without him around here. He fixes everything I ask him to fix, and things that I never even knew were broken. Such a sweetheart.”
    “Let’s hope the two houses that just sold down that way haven’t gone to any more Diablos. That’d be a little too much excitement. Those people scare me, especially that Rusty Clark fellow. I move to the other side of the street when I see them. I’m so relieved that Marla never got mixed up with that crowd.”
    Van gasped, straightening up in her chair and snapping