Читать книгу Sailing In Style - Dana Mentink - Страница 11
ОглавлениеIT WAS NEARLY 11:00 p.m. when Cy Franco was finally able to take off his ridiculous shoes. He sat on a chair in the empty reception room considering the offer he could not refuse. The Godfather himself would have been impressed.
His brain tried to put things in order, but his body was afire with nervous energy. He finally dropped to the floor and started in on some push-ups to clear his mind. Somewhere around the tenth push-up, he spotted his sister’s feet, clad now in stylish mules.
“Talk to me,” she said.
Eleven. Twelve. “Just burning off some energy. Isn’t it time for you and Pike to go?”
“Talk to me,” she repeated.
“Nothing to say.” Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen.
Now one stylish mule was tapping impatiently. “You’re barefoot, doing push-ups and Irene is walking around like a cat on a quail farm. Spill it, or I get the jumper cables and torture it out of you.”
He stopped doing push-ups and rolled over onto his back, staring up at her. He’d never been able to hide things from Rosa. She had this weird twin sixth-sense thing going on, and truth be told, he was a terrible liar. He took a deep breath and let it all out. “In a nutshell, I flooded my stateroom and caused somewhere in the neighborhood of sixteen thousand dollars in damage and lost revenue. She’s within her rights to demand restitution. I didn’t read the contract carefully enough before I signed it. I was in a hurry.”
Rosa closed her eyes.
He went on. “Carson Spooley is a celebrity concierge. I had to look up exactly what that means, but basically he’s like a glorified personal assistant, checking out this tug as a possible wedding location for somebody named Dizz. I have no idea who Dizz is, but apparently he’s somebody famous and Irene is desperate for him to love this boat and book his wedding here.”
She opened her eyes in surprise. “Dizz is a talent scout. He hosts the reality show Acting Up. He discovers actors and makes them into stars. The winners of his show land themselves an agent and a role on a network TV show. He’s engaged to Tiffany, an actress he discovered in season two.”
Cy shook his head. “Dizz and Tiffany? Don’t any of these people have last names?”
“To the point, brother.”
“I’m to redesign and decorate the reception room and dining area in the space of three weeks on a sixteen-thousand-dollar budget. If it passes muster and Spooley convinces this Dizz person to book the wedding here, I’m off the hook.”
“Three weeks? That’s insane, even for twice the budget.”
He sighed. “Yeah. The only good news is that business has been terrible and she doesn’t have many overnight guests at the moment. They can use the smaller room for dining.”
“And if Dizz doesn’t book the boat for the wedding?”
“I owe her sixteen thousand dollars per the contract I signed. Don’t worry. It’s coming out of my pocket. I messed up and I’m not going to take Dollars and Sense funds to fix it.”
“That’s irrelevant because Dollars and Sense doesn’t have any funds anyway, not until we get a few jobs booked.” Rosa sank down cross-legged on the floor. “There’s got to be a way out of this. Do you want me to see if Pike can find a loophole?”
He shook his head. “Thanks, anyway.”
“But you’re in this mess because of me. I’d give you the money if I could, but...”
“You don’t have it.”
“No, and Pike sold off everything to buy Pelican Inn. The honeymoon is a gift from his uncle or we wouldn’t have been able to afford it.”
He sat up. “No worries. This old boat needs my magic touch anyway. The history this place is steeped in...you wouldn’t believe it.”
“Then why the worry crease on your forehead?”
“That’s a character line, not a worry crease.”
She looked at him, with those brown eyes so different from his blue ones. She favored their mother, the woman who had drunk herself into an early grave. He had their father’s coloring and easygoing mind-set. For the most part, anyway.
Rosa’s brown eyes continued to drill into him with sisterly affection. “Cy, why don’t you tell me why you left the water running?”
He sighed. It would do no good to lie. “I thought I saw Piper.”
Rosa put her palm on Cy’s cheek. “Oh, honey. I love you, but if you really did see Piper, then you know what you need to do.”
“Run?”
“In the opposite direction. As far and as fast as you can.”
He closed his eyes. “I have. I am. But she’s still there.”
He could still feel the rain from that night three years before, pattering down, drilling tiny holes in the sand on a perfect Southern California beach. Not to be daunted by a little thing like weather, he’d erected an enormous umbrella over the picnic blanket, sheltering the bouquet of purple peonies. Roses were for ordinary women, not a one-of-a-kind, breathtaking creature like Piper. The storm came, and with it, high tide.
Piper did not.
Soggy flowers. Sputtering candle. A single text. I can’t. I’m sorry. It’s over.
He understood the finality in the text, the truth she had been trying to communicate for weeks and he had steadfastly refused to hear. That night, mixed with the shush of the storm and the pounding of the waves, he’d finally heard. He’d handed over his heart to a woman who didn’t love him. Not enough, anyway.
He’d stayed until the tide had come to claim the sodden bouquet. He’d let the ocean have the ring, too, hurling it out across the sea until the band of gold lost itself in the moonlit sparkle of the waves.
Rosa’s expression was searching. “The hurt is still there. The love isn’t.” She paused. “Is it?”
He searched his heart. “No, it’s not.” His love for Piper had died a slow and painful death that night on the beach and during the insane week that followed. “I’m over it. When I thought I saw her...it surprised me. That’s all.”
“Okay.” She kissed his cheek and stood, checking her phone. “Pike’s texting me. I’ve got to go.”
“Is Baggy okay?”
She laughed. “Yes, Cy. The strange, dog-like creature to whom you refer is being picked up by Aunt Bitsy from the babysitter’s as we speak. I’m sure he’ll be fine staying with Bitsy and Dad at their place while you work on this project.”
“Are you sure? Baggy’ll be confused to be away from the Pelican. He’s sensitive. He’s got issues.” Well-deserved issues for a wildly unattractive canine abandoned in a paper bag before Cy’s timely rescue.
“Yes, I’m sure. When we get back he’s going to be eating steak and lobster every night.”
“Lobster is too rich. It will upset his stomach. And as for steak, I think Baggy might be turning into a vegetarian, like me.”
“I don’t think so.” She laughed as she headed for the door. “And I was kidding about the lobster. Besides, we’re all on a bread-and-water diet until our business is more established.” She paused. “Call me, you know, if anything comes up with Dad?”
“Nothing will come up. He’s better. Hasn’t lost his train of thought once.” Cy sat up. “He’s going to be okay.”
She frowned. “Did you read the article I sent you?”
“Didn’t have time, but the doctors don’t know everything. I’m going to teach him about flooring—something new. They say learning new things can nearly reverse situations like that.” He hopped to his feet and retrieved a napkin from the floor.
“No,” Rosa said quietly. “They don’t, Cy. You can’t wish this away.”
They’d lost their mother to alcoholism, and he’d lost Piper. He wasn’t about to lose Pops. “Well, the diagnosis might have been wrong.”
“Cy...”
He flashed her a smile. “Let’s not talk about it now. Pops is going to be fine. Go on your honeymoon and have the time of your life.”
Rosa looked as though she wanted to say more, so he planted a kiss on the top of her head and walked her to the door.
“All right.” She leaned her head on his shoulder. “Love you, brother, and I’m glad you’ve got your head on straight about Piper. I’m sure you just imagined seeing her, but in case she does turn up...”
“I know. Run.”
He did another dozen push-ups after she left, feeling the waves of confusion dissipate. Deep down, he was excited to be able to resurrect the stately history of the historic boat. He’d always known that the past made the present, in buildings and in people.
And what did Cy’s own past say about his present? He was resilient, losing his mother and abandoned by his father before he hit sixteen. He was perilously softhearted, he’d been told, having been adoptive parent to no fewer than six dogs, one turtle, an angsty chicken and three cats over the years. Most of all, he was buoyant. Imagining the ocean glittering with moonlight, he knew he could not just rise above this situation but ride the waves to a place better than the present one. Flexible, easygoing, happy-go-lucky.
All right, Cy. Full speed ahead.
With his mind at rest, he rolled onto his back on the reception room floor, and slept.
* * *
PIPER BRINDLE DIALED HER uncle’s number. It was late, but she knew he’d be up. “It’s me, Uncle Bo. We just finished rehearsal.”
“‘Cowards die many times before their deaths; the valiant never taste of death but once,’” he said into the phone.
“Julius Caesar, act two, scene one.”
“Scene two.”
She sighed. Since she’d announced at age seven her intention to be an actor, her uncle had made it his life’s mission to school her in every noteworthy play written since the invention of ink.
“Right, scene two. How’s everything there?” She pictured him sitting in front of his tiny television in the worn apartment they’d rented on the outskirts of Tumbledown. He hadn’t had much choice but to come along when she’d gotten the part in the play that would soon be showing every Friday night and twice on Saturdays. They’d had to sell their family home down south to cover her mother’s legal fees. And here they were nearer the prison where her mother was incarcerated.
“I’m watching Wheel of Fortune.”
“Don’t you have to be at work soon for the night shift?”
“Not tonight.”
Her uncle had a job shuttling people from the airport to their various beachside destinations, and he’d managed to hold it down for six weeks—a triumph. But something in his cheerful tone set off warning bells. “Is everything okay?”
“Stop fussing, Piper. You sound like an old mother sheep we had on the farm next to our hotel when I was a kid. Always bleating.”
Biting back irritation, she checked her watch. “We’re done rehearsing and the stage is cleaned up, but I’ve got one more thing to do tonight, and then I’ll come and sleep there since you’re not working.” And it was lonely, sleeping in her tiny room on the River King, truth be told. “I’m starving. Should I pick something up?” She calculated the contents of her wallet. Top Ramen it would have to be.
“I’m cooking.”
He was the most enthusiastic failure of a gourmet chef she’d ever known. “What are you fixing?”
“Daube de boeuf and coq au vin.”
She smiled. “Mac and cheese again?”
“You got it.”
“Okay. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“Piper,” he said after a moment’s hesitation. “We should...talk.”
A clammy feeling settled in her stomach. “Why? What? Is it Mom?”
“Your mother is perfectly fine and getting along with the inmates. She would tell you to stop fussing, too.”
“So what is it, then?” Was he going to be arrested?
“I’m just running off at the mouth, is all. Thinking about the things you’re missing, working so hard.”
“It won’t be for long.” A little flame of excitement leapt up in her heart. “I have some news. I’ll tell you tonight.”
“We’ll trade news, then. I’ve got some, too.”
The excitement edged into fear. “Uncle Bo...”
“Would you look at the time?” He breathed noisily into the phone. “‘I wasted time, and now doth time waste me.’”
“Richard the Second,” she said automatically. “Don’t leave me wondering.”
But he already had, as the dial tone testified. Her uncle could never be induced to end a conversation normally like the rest of the civilized world. When he’d spoken his mind, he disconnected.
But not before she’d heard the worry in his voice, and Uncle Boris knew a thing or two about worry. Cheerful and charming as he was, he loved his sister deeply, and watching her lose her husband to infidelity and struggle to raise Piper had been unbearable. Too much for one man, one family. A bus driver with a history of bad investments, he’d started up a little business of his own to help his struggling sister and niece. It turned out he was a much better thief than bus driver.
Don’t worry, Uncle Bo. I’m going to take care of us. I promise.
Fighting back the prickles that would not stop surfacing on her skin, Piper slunk out into the night.
* * *
CY SAT UP, disoriented, in the darkened reception room. The sound of shuffling feet had woken him from his cat nap. The out-of-place horror of a digital clock showed eleven-thirty. A figure in white drifted down the hallway.
It was possible he was dreaming, but since he usually dreamed about surfing, he was inclined to think he wasn’t. He crept closer to the row of windows that looked out on the hallway. The figure had exited onto the deck, home to the massive paddle wheel now behind a clear plastic shield to protect passengers from spray. The paddle wheel was still, the place eerily quiet. Why the figure didn’t turn on a light was beyond him.
As if hearing his thoughts, the slender figure lit a lantern, the old-fashioned kind with a candle inside and a sturdy iron handle. He crept down the hallway, his bare feet silent on the wood floor. Emerging onto the Saloon Deck, he turned to the woman in white, his attention riveted. The lantern light shone on her pale face and delicate features, the eyes he knew were green, though he could not make out the color in the dim light. She wore a vintage wedding dress with lace around the neck and a delicate wisp of veil pinned to her long hair.
“Piper,” he breathed.
She couldn’t hear him, of course, and his own wildly beating heart was deafening. He remembered his sister’s advice. Run, Cy. Run. He edged backward as a man in black stepped out of the shadows. He looked vaguely familiar.
Piper whispered something, which he didn’t catch, more a sob than a statement.
“I won’t let you betray me or anyone else ever again.” The man grabbed Piper by the throat and began to choke her.
“You’re hurting me,” she gasped.
A fine red mist swam in front of Cy’s eyes. Every nerve, every muscle decided on a course of action in the space of a moment. He did not think; he merely reacted.
Cy tackled the guy, knocking him away from Piper. He struck out at Cy, who ducked and delivered a solid punch to the man’s nose.
The guy grunted, swiping at his nose with his sleeve. “I don’t know who you are,” he spat, “but you’re making a mistake.”
“Don’t touch her. Ever,” Cy growled between clenched teeth.
The man backed up to the railing. Cy’s rational mind noticed he was wearing a tuxedo, but his rage was still in charge. The man dealt a blow that glanced off the side of Cy’s face. Cy dove for him, and the momentum carried the stranger over the railing.
“No!” Piper yelled.
Too late. Though Cy tried to catch him, Tuxedo Man fell overboard and splashed into the cove below. Cy got a good look at his face as he toppled. It was Carson Spooley, the big-shot concierge guy. Certain details began to cement together. The tuxedo, a top hat lying on the deck, Piper in a wedding dress. Carson Spooley, the showbiz guy. Uh-oh.
“What did you do?” Piper shrilled.
“I didn’t...” he started.
Piper Brindle clambered up the rail, straddling the top bar. One second later, after an anguished look at Cy, she dove neatly into the ocean below.
