The Millionaire Next Door

“The fish are underwater,” Bethany said patiently. “They can’t hear us.”

“Oh, but they can,” Amanda assured her. Then she looked at Hudson, who appeared touchably rumpled and unshaven. Normally she didn’t care for that un-shaven look, but on Hudson it worked. He wore a pair of jeans even more faded than the ones he’d had on yesterday, and a Harvard T-shirt.

Harvard? “Your alma mater?” she asked, pointing to the shirt.

He looked down at it. “This? Someone gave it to me.”

“Oh. Well, anyway, I wanted to thank you for making good on the check.”

“I told you I would.”

“I know, but I’ve learned not to trust people when they say things like that. So many don’t live up to their word. I appreciate that you did, and I’m sorry I lost my temper yesterday.”

He smiled. “It’s forgotten.”

“So, you’re fishing, huh?”

“Yup.”

“What are you using for bait?” She didn’t see a bait bucket anywhere.

“Right now? Some little wooden fish we found in the tackle box.”

Ye gods! No wonder they hadn’t caught anything. You couldn’t use plastic worms or plugs or other artificial lures for bobber fishing. And now that she was closer, and Hudson had his hook out of the water, she could see they weren’t using floats or sinkers, either. This was the most pathetic fishing effort she’d ever seen.

“What are you trying to catch?”

Hudson shrugged. “Anything.”

“Would you mind a few pointers? I mean, you aren’t familiar with this lake.” She didn’t want to point out his complete ignorance in front of his daughter.

“I would be grateful for some pointers.”

“Okay. First of all, if you’re just going to hang your hook in the water, you need live bait. Minnows, or at least earthworms.”

“We don’t have any of those things. These fake fish look pretty realistic to me.”

Amanda shook her head. “Yes, but you have to wiggle and move them to make them attractive. They won’t work if they’re just hanging still in the water. Also, most of the fish will already be in deeper water this time of the morning. They come close to shore only at dawn and dusk.”

“I don’t have any worms or minnows.”

“Well…if you’re not too particular about what you catch, raw bacon might work in a pinch. At least it smells good to the fish.”

Hudson shook his head. “I have hot dogs.”

“That might do.”

Hudson sent Bethany back to the house for hot dogs, an errand she gladly performed. “She was getting tired of just sitting here, anyway,” Hudson admitted.

“Well, she won’t be bored when you start catching fish.” Bethany dusted off a spot on the dock and sat down, careful to protect her stockings and her modesty in her short skirt. In a couple of minutes flat she had both poles properly outfitted with sinkers, floats and hooks. Bethany returned shortly with a package of franks. Amanda took a small bit of wiener and worked it onto one of the hooks in a way that would disguise it.

“Now. You need to cast your line out a little ways from the dock, and let the current move it along.” She and Hudson stood, and she demonstrated the correct procedure. As she stretched her arm back preparing for the cast, she got the distinct impression that Hudson wasn’t watching her form—not her fishing form, anyway.

After a few practice casts, Hudson had the technique down pat. He cast Bethany’s line for her, showed her how to slowly crank the reel to take up slack in the line, then threw out his own line.

In less than thirty seconds Bethany’s bobber wiggled, then plummeted below the surface.

“You’ve got a fish!” Amanda exclaimed.

Bethany got so excited she shrieked and almost dropped her pole in the water. But with her father standing behind her helping her reel it in, and with Amanda’s verbal coaching, she managed to pull a little sunfish out of the water.

“I caught a fish! I caught a fish!”

“Yes, you certainly did,” Amanda enthused. “And a magnificent specimen it is, too.” It was about three inches long.

“I’m gonna name him Shiny.”

Hudson and Amanda exchanged a look. “You didn’t tell her what we do with the fish we catch?” Amanda asked.

Chapter Three

“I figured we’d throw all the fish back,” Hudson said.

“No, Daddy, you can’t let Shiny go,” Bethany said in a near panic. “He’s my fish.”

“Well, he’s too small to eat,” Amanda said with a laugh.

“Eat!” Bethany’s face reflected horror.

Hudson looked to Amanda for some way out of this dilemma. She smiled and shrugged helplessly. “Do you have a bucket to put the fish in?” she asked mildly.

“No.” Some help she was! “We’re throwing it back in the lake.”

“It’s my fish!” Bethany repeated, her eyes filling with tears.

Amanda’s eyes danced with amusement, tempered with concern. “If I were you, I’d let her keep the fish.”

Hudson gritted his teeth. He gave Amanda a look that said he wasn’t particularly grateful for her suggestion, then turned to his daughter. “Okay, Bethany, here’s the deal. You can keep this one fish. But if we catch any more, we have to throw them back. You know, let them swim free, like Free Willy?”

“Okay,” she said without a fight, nodding eagerly.

“And we can’t take Shiny back to Boston with us. Fish don’t travel well.”

“Unless they’re frozen,” Amanda murmured just loud enough that Hudson could hear.

“Okay,” Bethany said again.

“Then run up to the house and find a big bowl or a pitcher or a bucket to put the fish in.”