Free The Pickle Boat House by Louise Gorday

only stand here awkwardly and wait out her emotions, hoping she could get herself together. He shoved his hands into his pockets, then just as quickly pulled a hand back out and reached out to Van, putting a small coin in her hand. “Here. You’re religious.”
    Van picked the small guardian angel coin out of her palm.
    “I, uh, always carry that in my pocket. I thought you could use it right now. Sorry, I’ve offended you.”
    She looked up with wide eyes that bored into his as if she were trying to read his soul. He flinched and looked away, embarrassed.
    “I gave my son one of these,” she said. “He had it in his pocket when he died. I found that so comforting. While I was searching for meaning in his death, I knew that he had found meaning in his life. He had faith. I must have bought a zillion of these after he died. I used to give them out to everyone. I can’t tell you how many people told me that the angel coin came to them at a time in their life when they really needed it. This is such a special coin.”
    “I could impress you by saying my reason for having it was the same, but I have to admit, it was an impulse buy—just a lucky talisman.”
    “I don’t think God would have a problem with that. You’re not religious, I take it?”
    “Not particularly. More superstitious than religious.”
    “Thank you, but you should take it back. I have a few. Maybe the day when you need it hasn’t come yet. And then, hopefully, you’ll see it more like I do.”
    Ryan shrugged and took it back. He had no idea why he had bought it. It just seemed to call to him.
    They took their time walking back to Van’s house. Their relationship was easy, and it would have been apparent to a casual observer that they were becoming close and falling fast. A casual step too close, and their hands bumped—and clasped. When neither let go, Van looked up at Ryan with a smile he couldn’t resist, and he pulled her close to his side, where she remained for the rest of the walk back. It was a comforting embrace.
    Ryan walked her up the steps of her porch, where he reluctantly released her. “Thank you for trusting me enough to share so much with me, Van,” he said. “There is something irresistible about you.” He hesitated and looked down at his shoes a moment. “I hope my saying that doesn’t make you uncomfortable. I would give a penny for your thoughts, if I had one. But somehow, that feels like I’m shortchanging you, so what would you say to a Yankee dime?” And with that, he leaned in and kissed her lightly on the lips.
    She pulled back in surprise, speechless.
    “I looked up ‘Yankee dime,’” he said, grinning. “That’s ten times better than a penny!”
    She laughed, and he could tell that she liked it. He stood staring at her for several seconds too long, then turned and walked away across the yard.

CHAPTER EIGHT
NO DEED GOES UNPUNISHED
    Ryan met Hector at the courthouse to take care of business. They both were good at what they did, but not good together. It was always a game, a race, to see who could best the other and still come out looking pretty. Usually, it was Ryan, and Hector hated him for it. Hector always seemed to have Ryan’s back, but as Ryan well knew, he usually had a knife in his hand.
    Hector Young and Associates was the type of company that flew under the radar. For appearance’s sake, it appeared to be a solid return on stockholder investments, if you could ever manage to invest. It was heavily controlled by an old-boy network, the kind that went to discreet, members-only places like the Dandy Club or Park House and never drew attention by its flashiness. HYA hired only the brightest, most qualified candidates, mostly lawyers. There were lawyers to steer the company around trouble as it cruised the shady side of corporate greed, and lawyers to get it out of trouble if someone screwed up. Lawyers screwed up only once at HYA. To the public eye, it was a pillar of the community, but this