Mary and Edward both wore the ruffled shirts, Napoleonic military vests and felt cocked hats that Mary had brought. Edward’s hat was complete with peacock feathers and red lace trim. Over his black eye, Edward wore a leather eye patch and makeup that Mary had applied.
“We welcome thee!” Edward bowed as far as he could, pain surging through his lower ribs.
“Oh, very nice. Very nice.” John Murrell offered his hand and a big smile when he passed them. He had a trade magazine with a picture of a gold bar on the cover under his arm. As soon as he was up the pier, he pulled it out and opened a saved page to read.
“Awww. Jimmy, William, look at the pirates – look at the pirates.” Mrs. Murrell was next off the boat, carrying a large Louis Vuitton travel bag over her shoulder. She pressed the younger boy toward Edward and Mary.
“Pirates!” The seven year-old screamed, ran at Edward’s leg, and threw a punch straight into the massive bruise under his cargo pants.
“Arrrrr!” Edward whimpered before regaining himself. “That. I am. Matie,” he said through gritted teeth, leaning down to rub the spot.
Mary took Mrs. Murrell’s bags from her and started for the main house.
“Thank you. Did the agency tell you we’ll just stay one night? Have to fly to Belgium tomorrow. And could we get dinner at five thirty? Been on the plane for hours. We really needed this. It’s so hard to get away – William, don’t push your brother like that!”
“We’ll have everything prepared,” Edward said.
Mrs. Murrell looked like she spent Mr. Murrell’s fortune on her hair and accessories – oversized tortoise shell Gucci glasses, a rock on her finger the size of a game die. She wore a wide-brimmed hat, one-piece swimsuit and long open shirt.
A man on the taxi boat lifted over the last piece of luggage as the boys ran up the pier, the younger one squealing, his older brother threatening to push him off.
“Boys! Boys! Go play on the beach, but don’t go in deeper than your knees! William. William! Don’t you throw that bag in the water! Leave your bags on the pier. There – right there! Let Mr. Pirate take it.” She continued walking toward the main house as she called out commands. “William, don’t splash him if he doesn’t want to be splashed.”
The last piece of luggage wasn’t very large, but trying to lift it caused too much pain, so Edward dragged it up the pier and onto the sand. The two boys didn’t slow down. They tossed away their flip-flops, and were soon up the beach, giggling, and kicking water at each other. Next, they were throwing handfuls of sand. “Don’t throw that!” Their mother screamed from the doorway. Mr. Murrell was already inside on the couch, feet on the coffee table, oblivious to his wife’s cries.
After the luggage was in the bedrooms, Mary and Edward cleaned the patio chairs and put a cloth over the table. Then they set out knives, forks, lobster crackers and two dishes of salted butter dip. When the boil was about ready, Mary told Mrs. Murrell, and she started getting her sons ready for dinner. When the family was sitting, Edward drained the water out of the pot, carried it to the table, and dumped the contents out on a layer of paper towels.
“We put our cow traps out, but only caught crab,” Mary said.
Mr. Murrell laughed. “Looks fantastic.” He picked up a lobster cracker and went to work on one of the crabs.
The boys were pickier, starting off only eating slices of sausage and corn. Their mother unshelled some of the crab meat and tried to force it on them without success.
Later, when most of the food had been eaten, Edward returned to refill the boys’ glasses with fruit juice.
“Ed, nice job on dinner,” Mr. Murrell said to Edward. Mr. Murrell had his elbows resting on the table as he worked on breaking open the last whole crab leg. He glanced down at his open magazine next to his plate.
“Well, I had lots of help.”
“Then good job delegating. There’s no need to be modest.”
Mr. Murrell pulled the meat out of the claw with his teeth, sucking up the juices before dropping the empty shell on the pile in front of him. He wiped clean his fingers with a paper towel. Sitting next to him, his youngest boy played with a crab claw, opening and closing its pincers and growling out sound effects. Mrs. Murrell took one of the towels and wiped a kernel of corn off his face.
“What’d you say you did?” Mr. Murrell asked, glancing up from the magazine.
“Artist. I have a masters in art from New York State.” Edward nodded, ready to turn and reenter the house.
“So, not a cook?”
“No, cooking’s just a hobby.”
“What type of artist?”
“Drawings, painting. Just about any type really.”
“Can you do graphics?”
“Graphics is just drawings really, but yeah, I can do it.”
“Well, if you can do graphic work as well as you organize a dinner, give me a call when you’re back in New York. My media department’s always looking for good people.”
“Really? You’re too kind.”
“Hey, there’s no substitute for quality people. You know what the five Ps of business are? Product, place, price, promotion and…” Mr. Murrell turned his head up, giving Edward two seconds to answer. “People of course. You need good people. My managers are always telling me they want experienced people, but I tell them if a man does quality work, he can be trained.”
Edward nodded, his thoughts drifting inside the marketing floor of an office filled with draft boards, computer graphic equipment and brainstorming marketing teams and their big project bonuses. He had never considered working in the corporate world. His crowd was nonconformist, creative, rebellious even, and he’d always seen himself being a teacher. But didn’t teachers have to conform, show up and leave at regular times, and didn’t big companies need creative people too?
“We’ve got several different departments. It’s not all metals and chemistry. Any big company needs more parts when it grows. Expanded capabilities, it’s called.”
Mr. Murrell went on about his different departments and Edward played with the idea of an office job, at a desk in one of those skyscrapers lining Central Park.
“We need people who aren’t afraid to think outside the box, put on a pirate suit once in a while.” Mr. Murrell winked at Edward, glancing up at his hat. “You can’t find gold if you stay in the harbor. Take this article criticizing my company for buying out this mining company. Everyone said I shouldn’t buy. Everyone said I was over leveraging and should pull back, protected my company from foreign markets. But I didn’t play it safe. I bought them and now we estimate we’ll save fifty million a year on outsourcing operations—”
“Do you have to talk business all the time?” Mrs. Murrell tilted her head back and sighing.
“I’m just giving the young man some advice—”
“Gloating is more like it. I think he’s bored.”
Mr. Murrell sneered at his wife before picking up a piece of sausage.
“Not at all. It’s very interesting,” Edward said. “I gotta go back to New York some time, right?”
“Well, just don’t leave right away. We need you to make us breakfast.” Mr. Murrell laughed and returned to his reading.
Edward returned to the kitchen where Mary was pulling a pot from soapy water in the partitioned sink. She dipped the pot into the clean water in the other side before drying it with a towel. Edward took off his hat and eye patch and set them on the counter beside her. He leaned around and kissed her on the cheek.
“What’s that for?” She smiled.
“You won’t believe it. Mr. Murrell was so impressed with the meal, he mentioned he might have a job for me back in New York in his marketing department. Can you believe that?” Edward raised his hands up, and felt the sting of his stiffening muscles. “Pretty funny, huh? I come all the way to BVI because I can’t find a job in New York and what happens? I get offered a job in New York. Unbelievable, right?”