Extract
CLUTCHING THE WOODEN plaque to her chest, Dawn Larsen laughed with joy at the sound of applause, along with the loud chant, “Speech, speech, speech.” Tingling with excitement, and almost reeling from a jolt of nervous energy, Dawn stepped up to the microphone to give her colleagues what they demanded.
“And to think I almost didn’t come to the conference this weekend.” She grinned at Barb, the conference chair and her good friend, who stood to the side of the podium. “But thanks to Barb, I’m here. She’s encouraged me every step of the way.”
Dawn held up the plaque and turned it so the audience could see the engraving: Outstanding Public Relations Campaign of the Year. “My clients, the owners of the party planning business, get some credit, too. Party Perfect is a great firm and a joy to promote. And this award is especially gratifying because my peers in public relations have honored me in this way.”
“Two firsts for you this weekend, Dawn,” Barb said, coming to stand next to her. “Your first conference presentation and your first award.”
Once again, the one hundred or so attendees broke into applause. Dawn took that as a signal to end her speech and called out, “Thanks again, everyone.” She gave the audience a quick wave and went to her seat at the panelists’ table, still in shock over receiving the award.
Barb quickly gave the group a rundown of the afternoon programs and then directed everyone to tables in the hall set up for their afternoon coffee break. “I’ll check out the snacks for us,” Barb said before heading out of the meeting room.
Her face still warm with excitement, Dawn stayed put. She wasn’t finished coming down to earth. Gradually, though, her heartbeat slowed and she began to feel like herself again.
She even tried to wiggle her toes inside her black high heels. If her feet could speak, though, they’d beg to be set free from the prison of the shoes. But then she ran her fingers down her opposite arm, enjoying the feel of the silky fabric of her new spring green suit. She chose the perfect color for her fair skin, and for this very occasion, her debut as a speaker at this professional conference. A milestone for Dawn. The award was the icing on the cake.
Finally, her attention back in the present, Dawn noticed a woman lingering in the room. She was occupying herself with looking out the meeting room window. Not much to see from the twenty-third floor, since the glass was being pelted with sleet that blocked the view of Lake Michigan. This April storm had started about the time Dawn had backed out of the driveway of her house in Two Moon Bay, Wisconsin, almost two days ago.
“Hi,” Dawn called out to the tiny older woman with a halo of salt-and-pepper curls. And who was wearing sensible flats, too.
“Hi, yourself,” she said, turning away from the window and approaching the table. “I’m Kym Nation. An old friend of Barb’s. Congratulations on your award, and that terrific talk. And I hung back in the room because I wanted to ask you about that town you’re from.”
Dawn shook the woman’s outstretched hand, amused at the teasing sparkle in Kym’s eyes. She pointed to a chair at the now empty panelists’ table. “Have a seat and tell me what you’d like to know about my corner of the world.”
Kym plunked a thick portfolio on the table. She folded one leg under her as she settled in the chair. “So, you really are from that place with the outrageously cute name, Two Moon Bay?”
Dawn chuckled at Kym’s mock skepticism. “I am, indeed. But people usually call the town’s name charming—or romantic and alluring. Not cute.”
Swatting the air, Kym said, “I know, I’m just joshing you a little. Couldn’t resist.” Her expression becoming serious, she added, “You see, not long ago, I talked to an old acquaintance of mine. He was telling me about his plan to relocate to Two Moon Bay—I had to get my road atlas out and find out where it was.” She paused. “That was a couple of months ago. He might even be there as we speak.”
“Really? Does he happen to have a business?” Dawn asked, more as a joke from one businesswoman to another than a serious question.
“As a matter of fact, he has a tourist business...diving and water tours,” Kym said. “I knew him a few years back when I was based in Key West. We’ve stayed in touch—the occasional phone calls and emails, that sort of thing. He contacted me because he needs some promo help. Brochures, ads, feature stories. And that’s just a start.”
“Tell me more,” Dawn said, curious about the newcomer to her hometown. “It’s true, the party planners are terrific clients, but I’m looking for some fresh challenges.”
“Well, okay, then,” Kym said, her features animated. “He runs scuba diving excursions and much tamer water tours for kids and older folks—anyone of any age who doesn’t want to dive but would like to spend a little time out on a boat. He told me he leased dock space up in Two Moon Bay. He plans to take divers out to some legendary shipwrecks off the coast. That’s his specialty, shipwrecks.” 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