PADI Cake, PADI Cake

He waved to her then stood there and watched her until she left the parking lot then waved again when she drove passed from his left to his right.

"Wow. That woman is amazing," Grayson said to himself as he turned around and headed back inside. "And hot as hell."

"Uncle Ted? Do we still have that country club membership up in Seattle?" he asked as they closed up for the night.

"Sure do. The owner was downright grateful after what your dad did for him. It's a lifetime membership. Why?"

"Just thinking," he told him. "Hey, you're not really gonna pack it in are you?"

"I honestly don't know, Gray. This just isn't fun for me anymore, you know?"

"Yes, I do. It's not the same without Dad around here. But I really wish you'd stay on."

"No worries, son. I won't leave you in the lurch. I'll stick around until you feel comfortable running this place without me. Heck, I'll even stay and train my replacement. How's that?"

"Can't ask for more than that," Grayson said sullenly. "You know, with you and Dad gone, though, what'd be the sense of keeping this place open?"

Ted put his arm around his nephew's shoulder and said, "This was your father's dream, Gray. This shop epitomizes his life, and diving was his life. Well, a big part of it anyway. You and your mom were the most important things, but adventure was his drug of choice. You're an addict, too, you know. It's in your blood. By keeping this place open, your dad's memory lives on. Besides, what in the world would you do without the shop? We make a pretty decent living here and and even more importantly, you get paid for doing what you love. A lot of men would give their right arm to have a job they loved going to each morning. Think about it. Can you imagine wearing a shirt and tie to work five days a week or haulin' around a bunch of tools from house to house? I'm almost 60 and it's different for me. But you've got your whole life ahead of you and this place is the springboard for everything from money to job satisfaction to making diving connections to finding the future Mrs. Clark. That's the sense."

Grayson turned to his uncle and said, "For some strange reason, you always remind me of Dad."

Ted laughed and said, "Huh. Funny how that works, isn't it?"

"Do you have the number to the club on you?" Grayson asked before heading toward his own car.

"Yep. Haven't called it in quite a while, but it's the owner's personal number. Just tell him your Ernie's son and you'll have a table anytime, day or night."

Grayson put the number is his phone then smiled when he saw Spencer's.

"Thanks, Uncle Ted. For everything."

"Anytime. That's what family is for, Gray. You take care and I'll see you tomorrow," Ted said as he got into his Chevy Silverado and fired it up.

Grayson fired up the Bluetooth in his car then said, "Dial 360-825-4091."

"Martin Weston speaking," he heard.

"Mr. Weston. This is Ernie Clark's son, Grayson. I was wondering if I could get a table for two Sunday morning for brunch."

After an immediate 'yes' Mr. Weston spent a few minutes letting Grayson know how much his father—and his generous gift—had meant to him and let the younger Clark know he could call him anytime, just as his Uncle Ted had assured him.

Grayson wasn't really much of a spiritual person, but he smiled and looked up to the heavens as he thought, "That's Dad. Still looking out for me even when he's no longer here."

He hadn't even set his phone down when he typed out:

"The Country Club (I can't do the British accent thing so yes, I will keep my day job) is all set. So unless your heart is set on the Waffle House, we can have a champagne brunch while I bore you to death with my adventures. Okay, you can have champagne. I don't think they'd serve me. Hey, I heard that. No age jokes! You're more than welcome to meet me there, but since it's quite a drive, I want to at least offer to take you. Besides, that'll give me more time to talk and you more time to catch up on your sleep once you hear me droning on and on! Just let me know. And I have to admit, I'm really looking forward to this, Spencer. Gray."

Spencer was a little surprised to hear from him so soon, but she smiled and even laughed when she read his text then replied:

"You made me laugh, but yes, do keep your day job! Normally I'd never agree to ride with someone I just met, but you don't strike me as a serial killer or a stalker so...I think I'll take you up on your offer. I have to ask, though, what does one wear to a country club? I'm not afraid to dress up, I just prefer shorts and a tee-shirt. What can I say? I'm not the glamorous type. I'm a 'what you see is what you get' kind of girl. Anyway, yes, you can pick me up, and I'll also admit I'm really looking forward to this, too. Spencer."

She added her address then hit 'send.'

Minutes later she was smiling again when she got a quick reply.

"Remember, honesty is the key to trustworthiness! I've seen you in a bathing suit so don't try and tell me you're not glamorous. I'm not blind, you know. :-) Oh, and thanks for the high praise. It's good to know I've risen all the way to 'not a serial killer or a stalker' in your eyes. (I'd say something about how glamorous your eyes are, but then you might start thinking I am a stalker.) It takes about an hour to get there because of traffic in the city so if 9 o'clock is okay, I'll pick you up then. And while I like shorts and tee-shirts, they do have a 'no shorts/no jeans/no tee-shirts' policy. Snooty, right? Pretty much anything else is okay so wear whatever you like. Other than that it really is a nice place, and you'll love the owner. See you then. Gray."

More smiles from Spencer and a quick follow-up reply:

"You've earned the high praise, so you're welcome! No jeans, huh? Gee, I do have a nice dress but haven't worn it yet (or any dress for that matter) in...never mind. I do have a pair of decent pants so...we'll see. And yes, 9 o'clock is fine. And as to my 'glamorous' eyes, maybe you should get yours checked or wear your glasses on Sunday. ;-) See you then, Grayson. Or do you prefer Gray? Spencer."

Grayson also smiled then wrote:

"Everyone but my mom calls me Gray, but I kind of like it when you call me Grayson so I'll leave that up to you. And I see quite well, thank you. In fact, I have 20/15 vision, and I stand by my comments. Gray(son?)"

Spencer knew he was being friendly rather than flirting, but even so, it felt nice to have someone to talk to. She had such a difficult time making friends with other women because, unless they enjoyed sports and outdoor activities, she had very little in common with them. Men were easier to talk to and a lot more fun to be around even if it was just hiking or rock climbing or anything else she enjoyed doing.

Grayson wasn't a potential boyfriend, but she enjoyed his company enough that she felt comfortable thinking of him as boy who was her friend. Then again, she'd never seen a boy who looked or talked or who'd done all the things this boy had done. Regardless, it was a moot point. This was nothing more than an opportunity to learn more about diving in general and hear about the kinds of things she could look forward to doing once she got her open-water certification.

There were more levels after that, but she had to go through the process one step at a time. This introductory course combined two certifications into one (PADI scuba diver and open-water diver). She could then work on becoming a Divemaster who could lead groups of other divers and eventually learn to dive using mixed gasses later on down the road—all things on her diving 'to-do' list.

"My bucket list," she said out loud with a laugh.

Spencer was up at 6:30 Sunday morning and had a cup of coffee while she watched the morning news. She rarely turned it on anymore because everything depressed her from the Middle East to North Korea to the national debt of TWENTY TRILLION DOLLARS to the way jobs had been flowing overseas for decades. And when she saw military flying squadrons scrounging for spare parts in museums just to keep their planes flying she wanted to scream!

And then there were gangs like MS-13, a heroin-addiction epidemic, endless murders in cities like Chicago, and ISIS had grown and spread its tentacles across the Middle East, and yes, there were those champions of justice for women—the Taliban.

She turned of the TV and decided to shower and get ready. Showering was the easy part. Deciding what to wear wasn't. Country club or not, she ruled out a dress immediately then started leafing through hangers of stuff. Seattle didn't really ever get hot other than maybe a week or two in August and even then the mornings were almost always very comfortable or even cool.

She finally settled on a pair of khaki-colored Capri pants and a pale yellow, sleeveless knit top. After drying her hair, Spencer pulled it back into a ponytail then decided she could stand to wear a pair of earrings and maybe even a thin necklace. Gold was the obvious choice with the colors she was wearing, and a quick look seemed to indicate everything was just fine.

Then again, a second look told her that because it was a nicer place, maybe a tiny bit eye shadow and some mascara wouldn't hurt, but there was no way she was wearing blush or lipstick. A third look said she still looked a bit pale so maybe a touch of color on the apples of her cheeks would be okay and she did have a tube of wet lip gloss that was a kind of 'sand' shade that wouldn't be as obtrusive as say, a deep red, so...why not?

"Much better!" she said out loud when she was finished.

No, she wasn't 21 anymore, but she had to admit she still looked pretty good when she tried. She laid a cardigan on top of her purse and sat down to go over the materials for the next class before Gray(son?) arrived.

Spencer was so into the handout she lost track of time, and when the doorbell rang, it startled her. She sat the packet down, got up, smoothed the front of her top and pants, and went to the door.

She was smiling brightly when she opened it then stopped smiling when she saw him. It wasn't just what he was wearing, although that was very nice. It was more...everything.

"Um...good morning?" Grayson said as Spencer stood there speechless.

"Oh. Sorry. Yes, good morning, and please come in," she said still unable to process the difference in the way he looked.

He'd looked...very nice in his swimming trunks and flip flops with his dry hair sort of combed, but Spencer wasn't ready for...this. Grayson was wearing a pair of black pants, a dark-gray, long-sleeved, button-down shirt, and a very nice pair of black shoes that matched an equally nice black, leather belt. His hair was...wow! It had some product in it, but it was the way it was so very nicely styled that said, 'mature, sophisticated, and...wow.'

"Normally, a woman would say something like 'thank-you'," she heard Grayson saying. She'd been staring to the point of gawking and hadn't heard him tell how nice she looked.

"Oh. Sorry! Um...thank you, Gray—son?" she said with a smile. "I see you didn't wear your glasses like I suggested."

He smiled back and said, "I really don't need glasses and you really do look amazing, Spencer."

"I uh...I was going to say something similar about you. I can't believe the difference. I mean..."

She gave him another 'once over' then said, "Wow!"

"Maybe I should have worn a dress," she said suddenly feeling a little self-conscious.

"No way. Trust me on this. You look...did I already use the word 'amazing'?" he said his dimples showing as he smiled.

"Maybe, but at my age, it's kind of nice to hear it once in a while so...feel free to say it as often as you like," she said only partly teasing. "No offense, but your uncle said you looked more like 25 than 19, and I have to agree. Did I say 'wow' already?"

Grayson laughed then told her they should probably get going.

"As much as I'm enjoying our little mutual admiration society, traffic can be awful even on Sunday morning."

Spencer grabbed her purse and sweater then said, "I thought Southern California was the worst traffic I'd ever seen, but Seattle is just as insane. Is it ever not wall-to-wall and bumper-to-bumper?"

"Um, sure. From around 10pm until 5am. Oh, and until around 9am on Sundays so..."

Spencer sat enthralled and oblivious to the heavy traffic as Grayson just scratched the surface of his first shipwreck diving trip to Hawaii before they arrived.

He began by telling her, "There are several sunken ships around Oahu so you can hit quite a few in a week. We started with a submarine—the USS YO-257 because it's entry and exits are all nice and clean. It's an easy first dive and I gotta tell you, I was hooked after that."

"I bet!" Spencer said feeling a bit envious.

"There's also an F4U-Corsair near the island that's in amazingly pristine condition for the amount of time it's been underwater. We saved the Carthaginian II for last. That was just incredible!"

He'd barely had time to get into the details of the submarine dive when they pulled up to the country club. A valet opened Spencer's door, took Grayson's keys, and handed him a ticket.

"Wow! This place is...swanky!" Spencer said. "Now I'm wishing I had worn a dress."

"You'll be just fine. I promise," he assured her as they headed in.

He offered her his arm and said, "Shall we?"

"Oh. Yes. Thank you," she said hooking her arm in his.

She felt sick to her stomach when an older couple passed them on their way out. He was in a dark suit and blue tie while she was in a semi-formal dress.

"I can't go in there looking like this, Grayson. I'm not big on formality, but this is...crazy!"

"Oh, really?" he said as a younger couple came out dressed more like them.

"Whew. Okay. Maybe I should learn to trust you, huh?" she said now feeling much more comfortable.

"Hey, if we're gonna dive together you'll have to trust me, right?"

"Are you saying we're going to be diving together?" she asked playfully.

"Well, in class for sure, and if I'm lucky, then maybe after that, too. Who knows what the future might bring, right?" he said smiling as he looked over at her.

"Mr. Clark!" a man of about 70 said as soon as they stepped inside. "It's so good to see you and at the risk of embarrassing you, the last time that happened you were—well, not such a fully-grown, dashing young man."

Grayson shook the man's hand heartily and said, "Mr. Weston, it's good to see you again, sir."

"Oh, stop with the 'sir' business, Grayson. Please call me Martin. And please introduce me to this beautiful young woman on your arm."

Martin Weston was tall and thin with thinning gray hair and a pencil mustache that was also very thin and not at all flattering. Spencer couldn't help but notice he was impeccably dressed and very friendly.

"This is Spencer Monroe. Spencer, this is Mr. Martin Weston, one of my father's closest friends."

He bowed slightly then said, "It is such a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Monroe. We are honored to have you."

"Thank you, and it's an honor to be here," she said with conviction. "This place is...gorgeous!"

"It's been a fixture in this area for nearly 75 years. We take great pride in it and I do hope you'll enjoy your visit with us."

He turned to Grayson then said, "I'll personally show you to your table. If you'll follow me, please?"

"So what's the connection?" Spencer asked quietly. Evidently, it wasn't quiet enough.

"This young man's father saved my business five years ago," Martin, who'd heard her question, explained, which really explained nothing.

As they sat down, Grayson said, "Ten years ago, my father was a rather...um...avid treasure hunter. He'd spent pretty much every dollar we had looking for the fortune he just knew was at the bottom of the next dive. My mom told him, 'Not another dime or I'm taking our son and you can spend whatever you want of your half.' Which would have been right around nothing. In desperate need of financial support, Dad began a crusade to find donors. Martin believed in him. He fronted my dad over $50,000 with the caveat he pay him back with interest should he ever find any gold or silver or..."

"And just as I suspected, Ernest did indeed strike gold," Martin said as he took over. "Gold and silver and a lot of it."

"So...he paid you back?" Spencer asked not sure how paying back a loan was cause for great loyalty or how it saved the country club.

"Yes, but then when the club fell on desperately hard times and was on the verge of bankruptcy, I was the one going hat in hand, as it were, looking for financial backing. Grayson's father provided it in a way I can only describe as life saving. We survived the economic downturn and are doing as well as we ever have. Without Ernest's help, well, I have no idea where I might be and this place might well be a WalMart or a Home Depot—God forbid."

"Sounds storybook, but it's the gospel truth. You do trust me, right?" Grayson said with a smile.

Spencer looked at Martin then back at Grayson before saying, "It's too incredible not to be true. Besides, if we are going to dive together, I'd better trust you, right?"

"She's warming up to me, Martin. I can feel it!" he said without taking his eyes off the beautiful woman sitting next to him.

Martin smiled politely then asked what he could get them.

"They say real men don't eat quiche and other than here, I don't. But their's is so unbelievably good, it's a mortal sin not to try it," Grayson told Spencer.

"Okay. I...trust you," she said with a smile. "Quiche it is."

"Excellent choice, Ms. Monroe. As is the company you keep," Martin said before bowing slightly again and leaving them alone.

"That was fascinating," Spencer said. "You know I want to hear all about this dive and the treasure, right?"

"It was one of the dives I didn't make. I was too young to dive that deep and there was school, so I didn't even get to tag along. But I heard my dad tell it enough times I can recite it by heart. Or you could come over and watch him tell it on DVD—complete with actual footage of the dive, the discovery, and the salvage operation."

"You're kidding!" Spencer said now too excited to eat. "Just say when and I am so there!"

"How about this evening? I'd invite you for dinner, but you're probably getting sick of me by now," Grayson said flashing that smile at her.

"Um, I could possibly stand being around you a few more hours. Just don't push it, okay?" she said trying to sound tough but unable to avoid smiling.

Grayson shared as many of his own stories as he could during brunch and on the way back. Spencer had to admit he'd been so right about the food. It was by far the best she'd ever had, but it paled in comparison with the tales of adventure this...this very unique and interesting young man shared with her. If she could see just 10% of the things he'd seen underwater, she'd be a very happy camper or...diver.

Spencer had insisted on driving herself and showed up right at 7 o'clock for dinner.

Grayson's mother, Elizabeth, was expecting her, and Spencer wasn't surprised to see she was still a very attractive woman herself. She guessed her to be about 50, and between Elizabeth and his Uncle Ted, understood why Grayson was so attractive.

"Come in, dear!" she said. "It's such a pleasure to meet you. Grayson hasn't stopped talking about you since he got home and if you knew my son, that would shock you. He rarely says two words all day."

"Speak of the devil," Elizabeth said as Grayson came downstairs to meet them.

"And he shall appear, right?" he said. "And may I say you still look...amazing?"

"Thank you—again. And yes, you may," Spencer told him with a pretty smile.

"Grayson told me you were a beautiful girl, but his description didn't do you justice," Elizabeth told her.