Baja Florida Read Free

work at the local surf shop. He claimed he couldn’t afford college. But although he never said as much, I later came to understand that one reason he didn’t want to leave town was me. He wanted to make sure I was going to be alright.
    â€œSo how did he make all his money?” Barbara asked.
    I pulled the bread out of the oven. It needed to rest a couple of minutes.
    â€œLet’s just say he parlayed an unexpected windfall to his advantage,” I said.
    I never heard the story straight from Mickey’s mouth, but substantial rumor had it that he’d gone surfing early one morning at Coronado Inlet and chanced upon a half-dozen bales of pot that had been tossed overboard by some luckless smuggler. Square grouper. The catch of the day along the Florida coast back then.
    Mickey wasn’t a doper, at least no more than anyone else in those days, but he wasn’t one to turn his back on opportunity either. He sold the pot, bought the surf shop. Then he just kept buying and buying. Mickey was smart about real estate. Smart about business, too.
    By the time I was playing ball at Florida, Mickey was flush enough to pony up the sizable donation it took to be a Bull Gator. Private parking privileges, seats on the fifty-yard line. He brought my grandfather to all the games.
    After I signed with the Dolphins, Mickey decided he might as well buy a place in Miami, too. He was into all sorts of things by then. Apartment buildings in Atlanta. A car dealership in Fort Myers. A horse farm south of Gainesville. Over the years we saw less and less of each other. Still, we were forever connected.
    â€œSo tell me about the daughter,” Barbara said.
    â€œHer name’s Jen,” I said. “Mickey hasn’t seen her in a long time. Since she was a kid. More than twenty years ago.”
    We both looked at Shula. Still slurping from her sippy cup. Still adorable.
    â€œCan’t imagine,” Barbara said.
    â€œMe neither.”
    I put dinner on the table. Another masterful presentation from Chef Chasteen. Barbara was digging in before I sat down. An enthusiastic eater, Barbara. High on the list of the many things I loved about her.
    â€œMickey’s first wife—her name was Molly—she won sole custody of Jen when the two of them split up. She didn’t make it easy for Mickey to see their daughter. She moved them around a lot, never told Mickey where they were.”
    â€œHe didn’t have to pay child support?”
    â€œI don’t know all the details, but Molly had plenty of money of her own—her family was well off, owned timberland and pulp mills—and apparently she was fed up, wanted a clean break, nothing more to do with him. Can’t say that I really blamed her.”
    â€œWhy’s that?”
    â€œMickey was a wild man back then. He had more money than he knew what to do with and he was barely thirty. He had no business getting married, no business having kids. We all have times in our lives when we wish we could claim do-overs. That’s one of his.”
    â€œStill, Zack, there are ways, legal ways, for a father to occasionally visit his children. If he really wants to. I mean, how could he go that long without seeing his daughter? It’s unthinkable.”
    â€œYou’re absolutely right. I know Mickey regrets the way he’s handled things. Especially now.”
    â€œThis Jen, she’s his only child?”
    â€œAs far as I know.”
    â€œSo she stands to inherit something when he dies?”
    â€œMickey and I didn’t talk about that. But Mickey being Mickey, yes, I’m certain he plans to take care of her.”
    â€œWhat about the mother?”
    â€œMolly died six months ago. Car accident. Mickey heard about it and that’s when he found Jen and reached out to her.”
    â€œDid she reach back?”
    â€œThe two of them have been talking, yes.”
    â€œDoes she know he’s