Chapter 37 - The Morning Tide
The following morning broke with a brilliant, cloudless sky that painted the Chesapeake Bay in shades of sapphire and silver.
When I stepped out onto the back deck with my morning coffee, the crisp autumn breeze carried the sharp, clean scent of salt and pine. The world was utterly still, save for the rhythmic, soothing murmur of the waves rolling against our private dock.
A sleek, dark hull bobbed gently at the end of the pilings—The Meridian, resting peacefully in the morning light.
Frank’s utility vehicle pulled up the gravel drive around 9:00 AM precisely, just as it always did. He stepped out carrying a large cardboard box filled with fresh pastries from a bakery in Annapolis and a thermos of black coffee.
“Morning, Boss,” Frank greeted, walking out toward the deck with his characteristic unhurried stride. “Coast Guard reports zero anomalies across the entire mid-Atlantic shipping corridor. Not even a stray customs cutter out of place.”
“Relax, Frank,” I smiled, motioning for him to take a seat at the patio table. “You’re retired from tactical surveillance. You don't need to brief me on Coast Guard patrols before breakfast.”
Frank let out a low, rumbling chuckle as he unclipped the thermos. “Habit dies hard, Vincent. Besides, someone has to make sure you aren't getting rusty.”
Fay stepped out onto the deck a moment later, holding a tray of fresh fruit and smiling warmly at our old friend.
“He’s not rusty, Frank,” Fay noted, pouring herself a cup of coffee. “He spent half of last night reviewing foundation budgets for Caleb’s community center. If anything, his bureaucratic instincts are sharper than ever.”
May you like
Frank grinned widely, shaking his head. “Some things never change. You two take an empire and turn it into a retirement home, and you still treat community projects like military operations.”
“That’s because excellence isn't an occupation, Frank,” I replied, raising my coffee mug in a silent toast. “It’s a standard.”
