.

get some of Georgia’s coffee. Her strong brew would put him over the top for the day.

      When he was a kid, his dad, Walt Beard, had been in the fishing business too. He’d take Nate out with him and Nate would get deathly seasick every time. Over the years he’d mostly overcome it, but he still needed to pop a couple of motion sickness pills from time to time.

      “There’s the seasick fishing boat captain! Now, don’t that beat all!” Johnny Watson would say every once in a while, as if he had never thought of it or said it before.

      Nate had always found him irritating. They’d been in the same high school class. Back then, while they were both good athletes, Nate had worked hard for his grades. Johnny had just seemed to float along and teachers would grant him favors and extend deadlines and flex on his grades.

      The day at sea was long and uneventful and when the time came, Nate was all too ready to head into shore. When he pulled his fishing boat into harbor that evening the sun was setting behind them. He could see from the landing that Harbor Days Celebration of Coast Living was in full swing, an every-summer event with something for everybody’s taste.

      Merchants displayed their wares out on the sidewalks. Local musicians had a chance to show off their talent. More so each year, people came from all over the country and, to some extent, the world, to see the fine Oregon Coast. Safety Harbor was a beneficiary.

      Organizations and businesses that weren’t already located on Safety Harbor Square By-the-Sea, set up temporary booths to promote their products and programs. Argostoli’s featured both local artists and out-of-towners. There would be standing room only this evening as people gathered for the Annual Silent Auction.

      Down at Harbor Village, where strips of shops lined the beach, a band was playing bluegrass music and was beginning to attract a crowd. A few dancers could be seen in front of the band.

      Joe’s always closed its doors at 2:00 p.m. every day. He always said that he made enough money to get along during the first part of the day. Let the other merchants, some of them struggling, have their chance. In that spirit, Joe didn’t have a booth at Harbor Days. He’d been asked this year to organize the whole affair, including the parade.

      Nate finished getting the boat ready for the next morning and sauntered down to the Square. Sally said she would have Caitlin and Buddy there when he came into shore. It was crowded. He didn’t see her right away. Suddenly, the kids came running toward him out of the crowd and Sally was right behind them. Nate stooped down and the kids both hugged him around the neck.

      He knew that he enjoyed seeing Sally too much. A moment of guilt flooded him as he realized he was looking for the married woman more than his own kids as he walked in from the boat.

      Marshall Hale, the local deputy, approached the two of them, breaking the awkward and thrilling tension.

      “Has anyone seen Joe? People are asking about him.”

      “He’s around here somewhere,” Sally said. “I think I saw him talking to Father Callaghan.”

      She left Nate and his kids with reluctance. She was hopelessly attracted to Nate, but she had made promises of her own.

      Nate, Buddy, and Caitlin sauntered down the promenade over to the food court. They sat down with their hot dogs and soft drinks next to Margaret Hodges, the local state legislator and spouse of Luther Hodges. Unfortunately for her work, Margaret was an introvert. She could make a good speech, but she was personally shy. She’d been roundly criticized at Always Sunny Church for not attending more social events and for leaving right after service without staying for coffee.

      There was a bit of polite but awkward conversation before Katye and Susanna joined them. Being unable to ignore a growing crowd of familiar faces, a gregarious Father Callaghan stopped by, too.

      “Has anyone seen Joe?” he asked.

      “We thought he was with you,” said Nate. “Sally said she saw you talking to him.”

      “Well, I was earlier, but now he’s nowhere to be found. He’s supposed to be leading a Harbor Days Steering Committee meeting in fifteen minutes. He left word with Sally that he’s got the answers to several questions we have not been able answer regarding the parade. We need him here!”

      The Steering Committee met and decided, because of Joe’s absence, to postpone the meeting. Joe didn’t answer his phone or respond to email or text messages. Nobody could reach him that night.

      The next morning, Sally Hankins unlocked the door of the Diner with the key set aside for such contingencies, hidden under a nearby rock. By now, Joe had always had the place open, the lights on, and some coffee brewing. There was a rush of stark emptiness that greeted her, the kind that said “Nobody’s here, but they should be.” A wave of heavy chill air, both palpable and poignant, blew across her face. She shuddered. She started the coffee and turned on the stoves. It was five-thirty. Joe always opened at six o’clock. She had only a half hour to get started. Hesitantly, she climbed the stairs to Joe’s living quarters. There was a note on the door in Joe’s handwriting.

      “Carry on,” it said. An envelope attached to it was labeled, “Parade Instructions.”

      Chapter 3

      The weather had returned to normal with an early morning fog that kept a chill on everything until about noon. Later, the sun would come out, warming it into the sixties.

      Nate was the first to arrive for breakfast. “You’ll have to close the place down,” he said after hearing the details.

      “Well, we can at least serve coffee, and we have our daily order from the bakery.”

      “Yes, I suppose so,” Nate agreed.

      He unloaded the pastries from their boxes onto the counter. Sally already had table settings ready from closing time yesterday. She wrote out a sign and taped it to the front entrance. There would only be a continental breakfast served today.

      Everyone who came through the door thought they were asking the question for the first time.

      “Where’s Joe? Where did he go? Do you know when he’ll be back?”

      “Don’t know,” was the answer.

      It was a quiet morning. Everyone spoke in low tones or didn’t speak at all. The conversation at Father Callaghan’s table, which consisted of Jeremy Woods, and Mayor Lou and Hope Schofield, finally became audible to those at the table next to them. They quieted down to hear what was being said. Gradually, the whole diner was listening.

      “Do we call the police?” queried Jeremy.

      “I hardly think that’s necessary,” said Lou. “The last thing we need during Coast Days is the report of a missing person!”

      “Lou!” exclaimed Hope.

      “Joe left of his own accord. He has a right to his own business.” Lou held his ground.

      “True enough, most likely,” said Father Callaghan, “but we have to face the fact that it’s not like him just to up and leave!”

      “We only know he’s never done it since he’s been here with us,” said Lou.

      They were reminded of just how much they didn’t know about Joe, who he was, and where he had been before he had come to town, before he had bought an old empty shack, and made it into Joe’s Fine Dine-ing.

      “And what did he mean, ‘Carry on’?” mused Jeremy.

      “Sounds like maybe he was just talking to Sally about carrying on with the cafe operation,” said the mayor.

      “Now, how could he possibly have meant that, Lou?” asked Hope. “She doesn’t have the funds or the means without operating expenses. It seems impossible.”

      Jeremy’s hands propped up his head as he placed his elbows on the table, staring down.

      “True enough, he could come