Keyhole Cove

He hadn’t expected people that morning.

Darren came here to get away, and was filled with a species of resentment when he looked up and saw Matt’s boat headed his way.

He already had his line in the water, and was looking forward to slapping a few fish on the grill this evening, but now that bonehead would be out there racing back and forth with his bratty kids on skis.

He looked at Mitzi, who was shaking her head. “Makes you wish you could purchase the water when you buy shoreside property, doesn’t it?” he grumbled.

“How does he pull those kids around with that deathtrap?” Mitzi asked. Darren’s question was moot–they didn’t own Keyhole. But she understood the sentiment.

“That big outboard will sink them all one of these days.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“So’s his ex.”

Mitzi slapped her hands on her thighs and stood up. Cupping her hands around her mouth, she yelled, “Yo! Matt!”

“What are you doing?” Darren cried, appalled.

“Inviting them to dock and fish. I’m not going to watch anyone sink!”

Darren got up and waved his pole at Matthew, who had slowed the boat and was drifting closer.

Mitzi, behind him, waved a bag of jumbo marshmallows.

Without even looking, Darren knew: “S’mores? That bait’ll catch ’em every time.”

“S’mores,” Mitzi agreed, giggling.

“You could save the world if you tried, Mitz.” He stomped off to help Matt dock the boat, grinning in spite of himself. If the fish were biting, maybe they could keep the kids off the water all day.

Reading his mind, Mitzi called “Fish fry!” at his retreating back. Then she checked her s’mores supplies. As always, she was prepared.

Inspired by a prompt on Writers Unite! https://writersuniteweb.wordpress.com/

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