Free The Chocolate Pirate Plot by JoAnna Carl

card propped against the tees read, “$1.”
    Thin, worn mattresses were piled at the end of the porch, and pillows were heaped on a second table.
    Lovie was facing the table with hands on hips. The man in white laughed. He was on the short side, but he had unusually broad shoulders, medium brown hair, and a flirty mustache. “I couldn’t possibly sell you all this stuff for twenty-five,” he said. “It’s worth several hundred at least.”
    â€œTo the right person, maybe,” Lovie said. “But you don’t want to stand around here until the right person comes along. You want to move it, right? Think of the time my offer will save you! Time’s money.”
    â€œMy time’s not worth much. Give me two hundred and fifty, and I’ll think about it.”
    Lovie rolled her eyes. “Don’t be silly! What are you going to get for those mattresses? Nothing. They’ll go for scrap, but nobody will show up at a yard sale to take them.”
    Lovie had a point. I smiled at the man, and he smiled back. In fact, I got the whole treatment—every tooth in his head. Then I spoke. “Hi, Lovie.”
    She turned toward me and beamed. “Lee! Honey!” We hugged each other. “Now, Lee,” she said, “you tell this fellow that I know my business.”
    â€œThat’s for darn tootin’, Lovie. But I’m staying out of this. I’ll just see what size these T-shirts are.”
    I dug through the stack of bittersweet-colored tees, looking for one the size of somebody I knew. Lovie and the camp man haggled. She raised her bid to fifty dollars, but they hadn’t reached a deal when Lovie walked off and got into her beat-up truck.
    She leaned out the window and hollered at me before she drove away. “Come see me, Lee! You and Joe!”
    I waved at her, then grinned at the Camp Sail-Along man. “You accomplished something today. You met one of Warner Pier’s real characters.”
    â€œOh, I met her yesterday. She checked us out early. Offered me one fifty for everything on sale before we opened. I probably would have been smart to accept.”
    â€œShe drives a hard bargain.” I held out a child-sized shirt. It ought to fit some kid I knew. “I’ll take this. And I’ll introduce myself. I’m Lee Woodyard, and I’m here representing the Warner Pier Chamber of Commerce.”
    The man looked me up and down, deadpan. He seemed to be considering just how to react to me. Finally he smiled. “Didn’t you call earlier?”
    â€œI think our manager did. That’s Zelda Gruppen. Zelda is a staff member. I’m on the board.” I stuck out my hand in shaking position.
    The man touched my hand with his fingers in one of those obnoxious, halfhearted gestures that mimic shaking hands. “I’m Jack McGrath. I’m the manager of Camp Sail-Along.”
    â€œZelda said you called this a ‘restructuring’ year, Jack.”
    â€œWe’re not going to offer any camp sessions this year.” His mustache took on a rakish tilt as he smiled, and he wiggled his eyebrows. He looked as if he were doing a Groucho Marx impression. “I can’t even offer you a boat ride. But I could show you around.”
    â€œI’d love a tour, but I don’t want to take you away from your sale.”
    Jack McGrath shrugged. “I don’t expect much more business.”
    At first look, Camp Sail-Along appeared deserted and neglected. Dead leaves had blown into piles on the porches. The windows of the small cabins—the bunkhouses—still wore their winter shutters, and their doors were padlocked. The shutters from the main building had been taken off, but they hadn’t been stored. They leaned against the side of the building in drunken heaps.
    All the buildings needed paint, and the grass hadn’t been mowed, but there were lovely trees, and I could see a long dock extending