California Fire And Life

62

Jack's at Dana Harbor Boat Brokerage.

He goes up the stairs of the wooden building – he knows the building well. Like every stick, because he and his old man built it.

Anyway, he goes into the office of the brokerage and Jeff Wynand's sitting there where he's always sitting – at his desk on the phone – looking out the window at the thousands of boats in the marina, about half of which he's sold over the years.

He sees Jack and smiles and motions for him to sit down. Jack waits while Jeff gives out the details on a thirty-eight-foot racer. Jeff looks like a yacht broker – he's dressed in just about the same casual clothes as Gary Miller, but on Jeff it looks good. Not a statement, just his clothes, and it goes with the sailboats and motor launches in the harbor. Jeff's been wearing the same clothes since Jack was delivering him his newspapers.

When Jeff hangs up, Jack asks, "Can I buy you lunch?"

"Chez Marsha?"

"Sounds good."

Chez Marsha is actually a little snack shack down by Baby Beach on the West Harbor. When Jack was a kid, the shack sat out at the end of the pier that stretched way out into the harbor. Jack used to dip a pole in the fishing contests Marsha held for the local kids. Then they built the dock for the brig Pilgrim and built the Orange County Marine Institute and cut the original pier way back, so now Marsha's sits on the walkway near the base of the truncated old pier.

The shack's not on the water so she doesn't do the fishing contests anymore, but she still has hot dogs with steamed buns and chopped onions, so Jack and Jeff grab a bench at one of the steel picnic tables beside Marsha's shack.

Jack goes up to the window.

"Miss Marsha."

"Jack, what's up?" she asks. "Is that Jeff Wynand with you?"

"Yup."

Marsha's had the place for thirty-some-odd years, so she knows everyone worth knowing at the harbor. If she's not too busy, sometimes she sits down with Jack at one of the tables and they discuss the latest idiocies of progress.

They're redesigning the harbor. Tearing down the old to make place for the new. Going to build a two-story concrete "parking structure" and push out the old stores and restaurants to bring in the chains. So the harbor will look like everywhere else.

"Two hot dogs, please," Jack says. "Mustard, relish and onions on one. Mustard and onions on the other. Two bags of plain chips and two medium Cokes, please."

"You got it." She puts the dogs in the steamer and asks, "So how's life?"

"Good. Yours?"

"Busy," she says. "Too busy. I don't want to be this busy. I'd give it up except I don't know what I'd do for a social life. Is this a business lunch?"

"Sort of."

"I won't join you, then," she says. "Seven-fifty, Jack."

"Miss Marsha, do you know you have a big plastic owl on your roof?"

Marsha rolls her eyes. "The county put it there to keep the pigeons off. They take turns sitting on its head."

Jack looks up again and, sure enough, there's a pigeon perched on the owl's head.

Jack goes back to the table and sets Jeff's mustard-relish-and-onions in front of him. Says, "You're a cheap date."

"There's no better lunch on earth."

Jack tends to agree. Sitting there in the sun beside the building that's been there for a while, with the woman inside who's been there a while. Looking at the boats, looking at the water.

You sit long enough at one of these tables you can find out everything that's going on in Dana Point. Business, politics, real estate, as well as important stuff like what fish are running where and what bait they're hitting on.

"So what's up?" Jeff asks.

"Nicky Vale."

"The Love Boat captain."

"Is that right?"

Jeff laughs, "Let's just say that Nicky had a lot of second mates on board."

"Did you handle his boat, Jeff?"

"Sold it to him," Jeff says. "Sold it for him."

"I didn't know he sold it."

"I can check on it," Jeff says, "but I'm going to say it was about six months ago."

"Why'd he sell it?" Jack asks. "Did he tell you?"

"You know what they say," Jeff says. "The two happiest days of your life are the day you buy your first boat and the day you sell it."

"He was sick of it?"

"Let me put it this way, Jack. Do you own a sixty-foot cabin cruiser?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"For one thing," Jack says, "I don't have that kind of money."

"There you go."

The other thing, Jack thinks, is that if I had the money for a boat I wouldn't buy that boat. I'd buy a boat you could do some serious fishing with. A boat you could have a shot at making a living with.

A working boat.

"You got the impression he needed the money?" Jack asks.

"I didn't get the impression," Jeff says. "He took a bath on it. The boat market is slow, Jack. Even slower six months ago. Nicky sold it for about fifty grand less than it was worth. I advised him to wait, but he was in a hurry, insisted I make the sale."

Jack notes the frown on his face. Jeff's been in business a long time. He's made a ton of money selling boats for what they're worth. Not a lot more, not a lot less. It's not the commission, it's the idea.

"Boats are expensive," Jeff says. "It's not just the cost of the boat. Hell, Nicky bought that boat for cash. But it's insurance, it's fuel, it's maintenance, repairs… The slip fees alone on a boat that size, in this harbor, you're looking at two and a half a month. And Nicky threw some parties on that boat. So you're talking booze, food…"

"Coke?"

"You hear rumors."

"You ever hear that he used to slap his wife around?"

Jeff blows a long sigh. "You know how to take the fun out of a nice lunch."

"Sorry."

"Look, kid," Jeff says, "sometimes you'd hear some arguing from the boat. You know how sound bounces off water. She drank, he had a temper. Once or twice maybe the harbor cops were called. Did he beat her? I don't know. I know most people around here were pretty happy when he sold the boat. Except maybe the liquor store guys. Why are you here, Jack?"

"Vale's house burned down."

"And she died in the fire," Jeff says. "Common knowledge."

"I used to love this harbor when I was a kid," Jack says. "I wish they hadn't messed with it."

"Progress, Jack."

"You think?"

"Nah."

"Now they're going to ruin Dana Strands," Jack says. "Fucking 'Great Sunsets.'"

"Well, we stopped it for a while," Jeff says. Hell of a battle, too. Save the Strands mobilized a lot of the local people, got some councilmen on their side, some environmental groups. Raised money for ads, circulated petitions, even forced the Great Sunsets corporation into court over environmental impact issues, and won. "But they'll be back. They'll get better lawyers, a few councilmen… You can't fight money, Jack."

They sit and stare at the boats for a while. Then Jeff balls up his paper wrapper, tosses it into the trash can and says, "So it's a good thing I got Nicky's boat sold, huh? Last thing we need is a fire in the marina."

"I'm not saying anything, Jeff."

"And I hear you, Jack," he says. "I have to go sell some boats."

"Thanks for your time."

"Thanks for the lunch."

They start to leave but hang out chatting with Marsha for a while.

Talking about progress.