Chapter 6: Clara’s Sanctuary
Clara turned out to be a tall, formidable woman in her late sixties with silver hair tied back in a practical bun and sharp, intelligent eyes that assessed the weary family in a single glance. The back office of the bait shop was surprisingly cozy, smelling of old paper, peppermint tea, and faint traces of diesel fuel. A small electric heater buzzed in the corner, throwing off a welcome wave of dry warmth that immediately thawed the chill clinging to their clothes from the damp evening air.
"Toby, sweetheart, wake up gently," Martha murmured, guiding her youngest grandson toward the old canvas cot that had been made up with clean, floral-patterned quilts.
Toby rubbed his eyes, blinking sleepily at the rows of fishing lures and nautical charts hanging on the wooden walls before curling obediently under the heavy blankets. Leo helped Arthur and Captain Joe carry the heavy luggage and the blue cooler inside, stacking them neatly against a tall wooden filing cabinet near the back door.
Clara set a chipped ceramic teapot down on a scarred wooden desk, along with four mismatched mugs that clinked softly as she poured the steaming amber liquid. "Sit down, all of you. You look like you've been run over by a steamroller."
Elena accepted a mug gratefully, letting the warmth seep into her frozen fingers. "Thank you so much, Clara. We didn't mean to impose on you like this."
"Nonsense," Clara said briskly, pulling up a wooden stool for herself. "Joe told me about those online swindlers. It breaks my heart how many decent people get taken in by those operations every single summer. The internet has made thievery a lot more polite, but it's still thievery."
"Is there any way to report them locally so they don't keep doing this to other families?" Arthur asked, blowing gently across the surface of his tea.
"The local sheriff's office gets a stack of complaints every Monday morning during peak season," Clara replied with a dry chuckle. "They take the reports, file them away, and nothing ever changes because the servers are hosted overseas. But you can leave a public warning on that booking platform's review section if your account hasn't been blocked yet."
Elena pulled out her phone, checking the screen. "They locked me out of the profile fifteen minutes ago. Password reset links aren't coming through."
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"Figures," Clara nodded sagely. "They cover their tracks fast. But don't you worry about the rest of your week. You can use this space as a base camp. And as for activities, my nephew runs a small charter boat business out of slip four. He owes me a favor, so I can get you all out on the water tomorrow for a dolphin-watching tour, free of charge."
Arthur looked at Elena, seeing the first genuine spark of relief return to her eyes since they had stared at that wretched piece of paper on the porch hours ago.
