Something To Treasure. Virginia McCullough
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Kym’s eyes sparkled. “I didn’t know there were any wrecks up your way?”
Playfully taking the bait, Dawn held up her left hand and ran her opposite index finger along the outside of her thumb. “People describe Wisconsin like a mitten, and this is the peninsula that forms the thumb. Two Moon Bay is along the lower edge of the peninsula. And there are shipwrecks up and down the whole coast—in all the Great Lakes, as a matter of fact.” She made big circles in the air with her index finger.
Kym threw up her hands in surrender. “Okay, okay, I get it. Seems he was raised on one of those lakes and had relatives who worked on boats way back when. Must have sparked something in him, because he’s been exploring shipwrecks all over the world for years now.”
“Was he a client of yours?” Dawn asked.
Kim paused, frowning. “Not exactly. He had a couple of dive boats in Key West back when my husband and I ran a tourist information kiosk near the docks.” She rubbed at what seemed like an imaginary spot on the back of her hand. Without looking up, she said, “We got to know all the folks doing tours and such.”
Why the hesitation, and why so serious all of a sudden?
“My ex-husband and I got our scuba diving certifications at home and then did some diving in the Caribbean on a vacation once.” Dawn left her discussion of diving at that. Otherwise, she might have meandered into unpleasant memories. She’d only mentioned it to reassure Kym she had what it took to promote a marine business. She trembled a bit inside, but brushed the negative memories out of her mind.
Scuba aside, promoting an outdoor venture appealed, especially now that the cold Midwest winter would soon give way to spring. It wouldn’t be long before the orchards transformed the landscape into clouds of pink and white blossoms and tourists flocked to town.
“We have kayaking and diving businesses operating on the shore in Wisconsin all summer.” In a deliberately amused tone, she added, “By the way, Kym, you wouldn’t believe the number of books written about shipwrecks—just in Lake Michigan alone.”
“So, is it okay if I pass on your information?” Kym patted her portfolio. “I already picked up your press kit off the display table.”
“By all means,” she said. “I’d be happy to talk to your friend. What’s his name?”
Kym stared out into the empty room. “Jerrod Walters.”
Dawn waited, sensing Kym was gathering her thoughts.
“Uh, I don’t want to overstate this, but he’s not...” Kym paused. “He’s not an exuberant kind of guy.”
Hmm...what did that mean? “Could you elaborate on that a little?”
Keeping her gaze lowered, Kym fidgeted with a corner of her portfolio. “Let’s just say he’s known some trouble.”
Dawn released the breath she’d been holding and folded her arms across her chest. “It’s a good thing that’s not a disqualifier. I’ve had a spot of trouble now and again myself.” She expected to see Kym smile at that, but she didn’t.
Despite the woman’s somber expression, Dawn wouldn’t second-guess a referral just yet. Even one new client could mean a solid return on the investment she’d made to come to this conference. Besides, much as she’d enjoyed working with Party Perfect, the thought of a guy with an adventure business whetted her appetite. Hadn’t she come to the conference because she wanted to stretch professionally? This might be the opportunity she’d been looking for.
* * *
JERROD WALTERS PROPPED up the picture of a wooden steamship, the Franklin Stone, against the wall at the end of the table. He’d had the poster-size print of the 280-foot ship framed and it would soon hang in his office in Two Moon Bay. The original oil painting had never been considered a masterpiece. Far from it. An art critic would laugh at the amateurish rendering of the people and the landscape. But Jerrod didn’t care about any of that. The painting showed the steamship burning like a giant torch out in the lake. Men in two lifeboats were rowing to shore and a smaller boat was headed out to meet them. Jerrod could put himself in that painting and play any of the roles, from the captain who’d ordered the ship abandoned to the fisherman on the shore who spotted the distant flames and rowed out to see if he could lend a hand.
Jerrod knew many facts about the Franklin Stone but hadn’t seen her yet. Few people had, since what was left of her sat on the bottom of the lake sixty feet below the surface. This legendary wreck would soon be the primary site of his diving excursions in his new location. What better way to introduce the site than to have a poster showing what destroyed the ship mounted on the office wall?
A pile of old books about shipping on the Great Lakes sat next to his open laptop, but he picked them up and moved them to a box on the floor. If he kept them in his sight he’d be tempted to lose the day to marine history. Lose another day was more like it. Much as he wanted to keep reading about grain and iron ore tonnage transported on the Great Lakes in the early 1900s, he had a more pressing task.
He rolled his office chair a few feet to his right and spread out the dive site map and navigation chart. He needed to double-check the accuracy of the distances and location of the site map against the course he laid out on the chart showing a section of Lake Michigan surrounding the Door Peninsula. He’d chosen the Franklin Stone because it had all the elements he needed. First, it was well-known by historians and shipwreck divers alike. Resting in only sixty feet of water, newly certified divers could gain a little experience without committing a lot of time. Finally, it was the right distance from the shore of the popular tourist town, Two Moon Bay, to take divers for short day trips. Later, if this new arm of his adventure business panned out, he could add sites at greater depths and distances from shore. Even weekend trips could be part of his future in Wisconsin, but he didn’t want to get too far ahead of himself.
Jerrod had also settled on a second shipwreck, the eighty-foot schooner Alice Swann, not as exciting, but closer to shore in about eighteen feet of water. Some divers bypassed the boat trip and visited the site from the shore, walking in fins until they were able to swim and snorkel the rest of the way. That was certainly possible, but not how he chose to lead his diving excursions.
He eyed the reference book he’d been using to write the script for the day tours he’d run on a converted ferry. If he were a guy prone to easy laughter, he’d certainly laugh at himself. The outside world thought of the physical demands of diving, never the quiet preparation. Looking at him, they’d see an adventurer who’d traveled the world and had trained others to explore reefs and wrecks. But Jerrod liked to think of himself as an amateur archeologist. The site map grids were almost like those used to explore ruins of lost cities. The ships that fascinated him most were indeed like lost cities in miniature.
For sure, his academic interest in the history and lore of commercial shipping on the Great Lakes wasn’t what had built his reputation or his business. He was known for big-sea diving in Key West and the Virgin Islands—and for a time, Thailand. Now, in a matter of weeks, he’d begin taking people down to visit these bones of ships at the bottom of Lake Michigan.
New location, new start. That was the plan.
Although difficult to admit, neglect had led to a shrinking business. At one point, he’d faced the crossroads. He either had to reverse the downward trend of his business or give it up altogether. He’d chosen to stick with what he knew and loved and had launched an aggressive plan to breathe new life into his Key West location. Then he’d added his Two Moon Bay plan to satisfy his own need for a new direction.
As he studied the site map, Jerrod’s thoughts drifted back to the days when diving had dominated everything, including his family life. Adventure Dives & Water Tours had offered both diving trips and sightseeing tours and was more successful than he’d ever imagined. But in a flash, that had all changed, and for a couple of years, he’d let much of the business he’d built crumble around him. It was kept alive only because he had such an able crew. But with renewed resolve, he was approaching his scattered life as if it were a jigsaw puzzle, and it was time