Читать книгу Love, Unexpected - Virginia McCullough - Страница 13

CHAPTER TWO

ZEKE STOOD BEHIND the counter and packed small orders, but kept one eye on his dad going through the routine of leashing Teddy and taking him out for a walk around the block. As always, Art opened the front door, then turned around and said, “Exercise for man and beast.”

“That’s right, Dad,” Zeke responded, as if on autopilot. Talk about a rut. Same walk, same quip every morning.

When the door closed behind the man and the beast, Zeke counted on fifteen minutes to catch up after yesterday’s glitch. He’d put over one hundred miles on his truck driving to exchange orders addressed to the wrong customers so that each package got to the right person. Fortunately, the people involved had done business with Donovan Marine Supply for years. Don’t worry, they’d said. They understood. But how could they? Zeke sometimes had trouble understanding what was happening to his dad.

Correcting these mistakes not only took time, but it also meant leaving Dad alone in the shop. Now, before he got too deep into handling the orders that had come in online overnight, Zeke hurried to the section his dad has stocked the day before. Familiar dread settled in his chest as he prepared himself to double-check the pricing and placement, and, if necessary, fix mistakes.

Crouching to look at the cost of the existing stock of various sizes of nylon line, Zeke matched them against the pricing on the new order. He let all the air out of his lungs and his breathing returned to normal. But that didn’t clear his conscience. No matter how well he prepared himself, he couldn’t fight off little stabs of guilt every time he did precisely what his dad had accused him of—going behind him to check his work.

Maybe he wouldn’t feel like such a sneak if his dad’s memory lapses, or more typically, loss of focus, occurred every day or even every week. But they didn’t. Most of the time, his dad’s work lived up to the standards their customers expected from Art Donovan, and that Art expected of Zeke. But even occasional glitches cost them money—and goodwill—all the same.

Zeke checked the last of the new stock of stainless deck hardware. Satisfied it was in good shape and priced correctly, he went back to orders on the computer.

Zeke’s mood lifted when he saw the orders for two anchor packages—anchor, chain and line. Not bad. They hadn’t even opened the door yet and they already had a substantial sale scheduled for customer pickup later that day. He moved on to the next order, this one for paint and varnish. That made him think of Drifting Dreamer. As he’d gone to sleep last night, the old yacht hung out in his thoughts. What had happened that turned such a classic boat into a wreck? One thing was sure—if they decided to sell fast and get it off their hands, the new owner was going to need a whole lot of both paint and varnish.

Or maybe he’d take on the job of giving that yacht a new life and recover the costs in the sale price. It was an appealing idea Zeke made himself shake off. He barely had time for the occasional building restoration job that came his way. Where would he find time to restore an old boat? He shouldn’t go down this road, anyway—the one where he saw the boat like she was a person with a brain and a heart and whose glory days were behind her.

Zeke heard the back screen-door hinges squeak, the signal his dad and Teddy were back.

“Hey, Zeke, there’s a lady down by the boat,” Art said, coming around the corner to the counter. “You know, that old yacht from yesterday.”

“Drifting Dreamer, Dad,” he said drily. “She’s the only boat we own.” Was there more to the story? “Uh, did she have a question or want something?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t talk to her. We have too much to do around here to stop and chat to a stranger. Even a good-looking one. The gal has some long hair.” Art let go of the leash and in a flash, Teddy turned and made a beeline for the back door.

“There goes the dog.” Zeke bit his tongue before he could snap at his dad, who hadn’t hooked the latch on the door to keep Teddy inside. “I’ll go get him.”

Teddy was out the door and headed for the dock, but Zeke managed to grab the leash off the grass and slow him down. “Hey, buddy, you can’t go out by yourself.” The dog pulled on the leash and led Zeke straight for the woman standing on the dock looking at the boat. He saw what his dad meant. Her dark hair fell more than halfway down her back.

“Okay, Teddy, we’ll stay out a little longer.” He let Teddy take him to the woman, who was tall and slender, and wore jeans and a red T-shirt. When she saw him coming, she lifted her sunglasses and perched them on her head. In her other hand, she held a giant-size Bean Grinder to-go cup.

“Good morning,” she called out, smiling. “I suppose I’m trespassing.”

He was tongue-tied. By a pretty smile and long legs. He raised his hand in protest. “Probably so, but we won’t call the sheriff, at least not yet.”

“I see. I have to prove myself first.” She held up the cup. “I’m armed only with the Bean Grinder’s morning mix.”

“In that case, we’ll...” Zeke watched Teddy sniffing the woman’s sneakers. “I was going to say we’ll call off the dogs, but, too late.”

She reached down and scratched Teddy behind his ears. “No problem. I’m not afraid of a curious dog. I was out walking last night and saw this boat, but it was dark so I couldn’t see much. Something made me walk over this morning to get a better look.”

“Well, you’re only our second visitor since the boat arrived yesterday morning.” He explained that Nelson White, the owner of the marina and boatyard next door, had also wandered down to see the new arrival. Zeke nodded to the boat. “Nelson probably thinks the Dreamer is an eyesore bringing down the neighborhood.”

Zeke pulled on Teddy’s leash to stop him from circling the visitor and wrapping the leash around her legs. “What do you think?” Why had he asked that? Just to keep her from walking away?

“Right now, I’m thinking your dog is using his nose to learn all about me and where I’ve been this morning.” Her smile grew bigger as she stared at Teddy.

“That’s no doubt true.” Zeke eagerly grabbed the chance to play along. He hadn’t had this much conversation with a stranger—a female stranger—in a long time. Well, except for customers. What else had he been missing? “His name is Teddy, by the way.”

“Theodore Donovan, I presume,” she said, deadpan, as she pointed to their giant sign mounted high enough on the building to be visible from the water. “Hmm, sounds like he should run for office.”

Zeke laughed from deep in his chest. “We never got as far as Theodore. He’s plain ol’ black-and-brown Teddy. And now he has a last name. We won’t tell him, or he’ll get a big head.”

She narrowed her eyes in amusement. “If Teddy is like most dogs I know, he’s probably spoiled rotten and already has a big head.”

Her dark blue eyes glanced down at Teddy and then to the side to take in Drifting Dreamer. But, he noted, she now seemed to be studying him. “I’m Zeke, and as it happens, my real last name is Donovan.”

He offered his free hand and she switched her coffee cup so she could grasp it. “I’m Andi Sterling. And I’m new in town.”

“I figured that out,” Zeke said. Her soft hand, extra warm from the coffee cup, gripped his.

“How so?”

No good reason, he thought, but that was no answer at all. “Because you don’t look familiar. Sometimes I think I’ve met most everyone around here at least once.”

“Well, now you know me, too. I’ve only been in Two Moon Bay for a few days.” Suddenly, her expression changed from lighthearted to serious.

“Were you curious about the boat?” He gestured to the stern. “Drifting Dreamer. The name mostly wore off with the other paint.” The hull once had been glossy black with the name painted on in bronze gold.

“You own the boat?” she asked, not looking at him but at the yacht.

“We do.” Seeing it through her eyes, he quickly added, “To make a long story short, we inherited it. Uh, as is.” That should explain its sorry state.

She turned her head to look directly at him. “Are you and your wife planning to keep it...her?”

Zeke waved her off. “Oh, no, I’m not married. I should have explained. My dad and I own the boat. Well, not exactly. It really belongs to him.” Zeke shook his head, frustrated by the way he tripped over his words, sounding like a goofy teenager. “If you can believe it, a guy who owed Dad money left it to him in his will. We haven’t decided what to do with it, but the guy settled, sort of, a twenty-year-old debt.”

“Twenty years? Wow. That’s an incredible story.”

She shifted her weight from one foot to the other and took a sip of her coffee, showing no sign she was ready to leave.

Maybe the boat really did intrigue her. “Uh, would you like to go aboard and take a look inside?”

The bright smile was back. “I thought you’d never ask.”

“Really?”

“Of course.” Her blue eyes flashed flirtatiously. “Curiosity is killing me.”

“Sorry, I’m just sort of shocked.”

She exaggerated a look of wide-eyed innocence. “You mean because the boat doesn’t look so good?”

Another laugh rose from deep inside. “No kidding.”

“Okay, confession time.” She gestured to the boat. “I don’t know the first thing about boats. But I’ve restored a house over a century old and badly maintained for at least thirty of those one-hundred-plus years. I know very well how old, neglected things can be brought back.”

She’d restored an old house? Hmm...intriguing. “Old and neglected. That about sums it up.” He stared at Drifting Dreamer for a few seconds. “You go on aboard. I’ll go get the key to open her up.”

She nodded and, after only a couple of seconds of hesitation, climbed from the dock to the deck.

Taking the dog with him, Zeke hurried back inside the store, and found his dad sealing up a carton. As he unhooked Teddy’s leash, he eyed the box with suspicion, memories of fixing yesterday’s order mix-up intruding into his otherwise pleasant thoughts. He’d have a look at the cartons later before they had a chance to go out. He opened the top desk drawer in the office and grabbed the keys. “Hey, Dad, the woman with the long hair? Her name is Andi and she’s curious about Drifting Dreamer. I thought I’d show her around.”

“That so? Maybe she wants to buy it?”

Zeke frowned. “I hadn’t thought of that, but she said she restored an old house. So, who knows? Maybe she won’t be able to resist the challenge.”

Art looked over his bifocals and frowned. “Don’t be long, son. We’ve got orders to fill.”

“Got it, Dad.” Zeke told Teddy to stay and let the screen door close. Teddy immediately started whining and Zeke stopped. “Andi’s right, buddy, you are spoiled.” Relenting, as Teddy surely knew he would, he said, “You stay close by. No running off.”

Teddy trotted to the boat, beating Zeke there. He wasted no time jumping from the dock to the deck.

“I bet Mr. Theodore follows you everywhere,” Andi joked.

“More or less,” Zeke said. “I think of him more as my dad’s dog, but we’re both responsible for keeping the little stray.”

“The dog apparently has good instincts.” She flashed a beaming smile that once again showed her pretty white teeth.

He opened the padlock to the cabin doors and went down the wooden companionway into the saloon, or what he thought of as the main cabin. Andi followed close behind.

“What do you think? First...no, second impressions.” He was aware that being aboard Drifting Dreamer wouldn’t do much to alter an initial impression. It would probably only make reality hit home harder.

“I think this boat has a past,” she said, following him into the center main saloon, “and I’d sure like to know what it is. Simple curiosity, I guess.”

A past? Had she read his mind? That question had turned over and over in his mind last night. It had kept him wide-awake and thinking hard. From the moment he’d secured the dock lines, he’d wondered what this boat had been up to during her better days. It was a mystery he wanted to solve.

“I get it. I’ve been asking myself that, too. Unfortunately, we know very little, except what the spec sheet told us. She was built in 1939 in Duluth at the Metzger Boat Works. Pretty famous builders, those Metzgers. The listed owner is C. Peterson. We think the boat has been in the Great Lakes since her launch, but we can’t say for sure. Somehow, she ended up in the hands of Terrance Smyth—he’s the guy who owed my dad money.”

Andi gestured around the all-mahogany interior. “Someone named her Drifting Dreamer for a reason.”

He’d thought of that, too. “Not that long ago, someone bought the diesel engine and new pumps and other gear, including a propane stove, so that person must have intended to do something with her. The galley is ready to go. And the boat is seaworthy. Made it up here from Kenosha, anyway.”

“Maybe the plan was to get her running and then fix her up,” Andi said. “Kind of like the way we lived in the house while I worked on it.”

We? Who did that include?

“I’m guessing the deterioration and damage started decades ago.”

Andi wrinkled her nose as she continued looking around.

“The stale smell of a closed-up boat.” He led the way to the large wheelhouse, where the engine controls, the compass set in its bronze housing, the old-fashioned depth sounder and the newer radar were in place and ready to go.

“His new frontier,” Zeke said, pointing to Teddy, who’d wasted no time in sniffing the corners and wagging his tail in excitement. “Now that the dog has discovered the boat has an inside, he’ll want to make it part of his regular rounds.”

They went back into the main cabin and she continued studying the boat with a dreamy look in her big, dark blue eyes.

“Some people still call these areas of a boat the saloon,” he said, standing in the middle of what was the boat’s equivalent of a combination kitchen-dining area and living room. “Although that term only applies to high-end yachts. So maybe main cabin is more like it.” He noted that she was deep in thought, her full lips pursed in concentration.

“This certainly was a high-end yacht,” Andi said. “You could seat eight or ten people around the table.” She moved inside the largest stateroom. “And this is almost like a regular bedroom.”

“So is the other cabin in the bow. It has two single bunks,” Zeke said. “I was surprised to find bunk cushions still packed in the canvas covers they were delivered in.”

“Whoever had this boat built must have had quite a vision,” she said, running her hand down the once smooth wood of the hanging locker. She tugged on the handle of one of the double doors and it broke free. “This is more like an antique armoire than an ordinary closet. It’s as big as some of the closets I’ve seen in older houses. All this mahogany in a house would boost the price a notch or two.”

Only yesterday, he’d seen mostly the boat’s decay, but now, watching her study the fixtures, assessing everything, possibilities started clicking through his brain. He knew a thing or two about restoring buildings, and that’s what fixing up this boat would be about. Restoration. Drifting Dreamer could be more than presentable. She could be a classic gem again.

“You’re right about the quality of workmanship, and about vision, too. I wish we had better records. I know one thing for certain. No one builds this kind of yacht on a whim—or on a shoestring. And back in the hard times of the 1930s, any boat builder would have been happy for the business.”

Andi nodded in agreement. “My grandpa talked endlessly about the Depression. Not much call for luxury yachts, I imagine, except for the very rich and very lucky. But Drifting Dreamer is a fantastic name.” Again, Andi ran her hand across the wood, this time one of the bulkheads. “Lots of black blotches in the wood under the peeling finish.”

Suddenly self-conscious about staring at her long, graceful fingers in constant motion, he cleared his throat. “We haven’t chewed over all the options yet, but my dad and I have to figure out what to do with her. We could sell off fixtures and bronze fittings. I know a woman who buys salvaged wood to make one-of-a-kind mirrors and picture frames. That would bring some money.”

Andi’s mouth dropped open. Pointing to the floor, she said, “You mean you’d dismantle this boat?”

Whoa, what a reaction. But it was one solution and he’d defend it. “Well, yes, scrapping her is one option. We have to be realistic. The pieces could be way more valuable than the whole boat intact.”

“Unbelievable.” Andi shook her head and pursed her lips in disgust.

She disapproved? This woman who didn’t know the first thing about him? He shouldn’t care, but he did. “Uh, that was our first thought. But then we figured since the hull seems sound there may be some life in her yet.”

Andi nodded. “I’ll bet there is.”

Zeke decided to throw out another option. “We could also sell her as is.” What if she was an interested buyer? He shouldn’t immediately assume she couldn’t or wouldn’t buy a yacht. Even a derelict boat. What did he know about her? He glanced at the teak cabin floor, dried out and gray, but still sturdy. “My dad would probably like that plan better.”

Silence. At the mention of his dad, his words took on an unexpected sadness and hung in the air. Meanwhile Teddy’s nails clicked on the floor as he scurried across the cabin and broke the silence. Zeke heard himself breathe.

“I have a question.” She abruptly faced him full-on. “What would you charge to rent this yacht to someone? For the summer, I mean.”

“Rent? You mean to someone who wanted to live on Drifting Dreamer?”

She extended her hand and flashed an isn’t-that-obvious? look. “That’s exactly what I mean.”

What was with the sharp tone? He supposed he’d annoyed her by not taking her question seriously, but he wouldn’t make that mistake again. “Why do you ask?”

Leaning to the side, her gaze traveled up and down the largest cabin, taking it all in. “The essentials are here, Zeke. The stove has barely been used. The staterooms—cabins—could use a good cleanup.” Casting a pointed look his way, she rolled her eyes. “They clearly need more than that, but you know what I mean. People don’t build a fifty-foot boat they can’t live on for extended periods of time. As long as the plumbing and electrical systems work, she could be made livable in short order.”

Zeke leaned his weight against a bulkhead and crossed one foot over the other. Why would she ever consider moving aboard a boat that needed so much work? Or on a boat at all? Even one in tiptop shape. On the other hand, she’d said she restored an old house. At one time, restoration work was the focus of his life. That thought allowed him a little insight, maybe a hint into what made her tick. Behind those mysterious eyes. And the pretty smile. She’d sparked his curiosity before she’d spoken even one word.

He folded his arms across his chest. “Call me crazy, but what would prompt you to want to live on Drifting Dreamer?”

She stared at the floor. “It’s not so complicated, Zeke. I need a place to live.” She raised her head to look him in the eye. “Correction. My ten-year-old daughter and I need a place to live for the summer, and then when the tourist season is over, I’m sure I’ll be able to find a permanent place here in town. Right now, summer rentals are scarce in Two Moon Bay, and we’d end up moving every couple of weeks.”

A ten-year-old. A single mom and her daughter living on the boat? He was caught completely off guard. “Where are you staying now?”

She lifted her palms and let her head drop back. “I might have known you’d ask...”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.” Wait...why was he apologizing for asking a question anyone would?

“No, no, it’s okay. I’m just teasing. Of course you’d want to know.” She took her sunglasses off the top of her head and rearranged the white headband that held her hair off her face. “It’s complicated. At the moment, and for the next few days, I’m staying—are you ready for this?—at my ex-husband’s new wife’s cottage on Night Beach Road.”

“Ex-husband’s new wife’s cottage.” He pointed his finger downward with each word as if connecting the dots.

“We share custody of our daughter, Brooke, and at the moment, she’s in Chicago with her dad and Lark—that’s his new wife.” She grinned. “Newish wife.”

“Brooke? Lark?” he blurted. “Then Miles is your ex-husband?”

The muscles in her face relaxed, showing visible relief. “Why, yes. Do you know him—them?”

Zeke laughed. “Lark and Miles are friends of Dawn Larsen and Jerrod Waters, the guy who runs the diving trips out of the marina—they’re friends of mine. He has the tour boat, too. And I’ve met your little girl a couple of times.”

“Do you mean Lucy Bee? It’s docked at the marina?”

He nodded. “Matter of fact, Dawn and Jerrod have been married less than a year.”

“And Miles was at their wedding,” Andi said, chuckling. “Now I’m putting all the pieces together. Jerrod has a little girl, Carrie. Brooke has mentioned her.”

“Right.” Zeke led the way back to the deck. Teddy followed Andi and immediately flopped in a sunny corner and curled up, as if tuckered out from his tough morning of sniffing and endearing himself to his new friend.

“The dog has apparently heard all this before,” Andi quipped.

“Right. He knows most of the players in our conversation, so it’s very ho-hum to the family mutt.” He hadn’t joked around this much in a long time.

Way too long.

“For a minute there, I forgot that, of course, being on the waterfront you’d know Jerrod and Dawn and the rest of the crowd.”

Zeke pointed down the waterfront to Nelson’s marina, where Jerrod’s boats were tied up at the main dock. “Jerrod keeps his boats at the marina all summer. I got to know Miles at a couple of events at the yacht club.”

He turned the other way and pointed toward the glass-and-wood building down the shore. “That’s the yacht club, but it’s more than that now. They plan to have music on some weekends and they rent it out for weddings and parties.”

Andi absently looked beyond him to the water, as if suddenly distracted. “I’ve walked down that way a couple of times since I’ve been in town. Brooke has told me lots of stories about the people you mentioned.”

Zeke told Andi about what was supposed to have been a send-off party for Jerrod and his crew at the end of the season. “They were heading back south for the winter. But Jerrod and Carrie didn’t leave. Asking Dawn to marry him led to a big change of plans for Jerrod and his crew.”

Her laugh sounded a little forced when she said, “Such a chummy place. Brooke loves being here with her dad.”

Zeke couldn’t tell if her tone was wistful or resentful. Not an area he’d probe, in any case.

“We had to limit the time Brooke spent with him last year because of the distance. She was here for weekends, except when he was away doing one of his talks. But Miles and I both ate up way too much time on the road shuttling her back and forth.”

“And now you’ve moved here.” Given her connection to people he knew, Zeke was even more curious about her.

She ran her hand down the back of her head, subtly fidgeting with her hair. “Yes, I moved, but for various reasons, I ended up leaving in kind of a rush. Brooke and I have been here a week.”

Zeke listened as she added a few details about hunting for a new job, too.

“So, I got my big idea about living on your boat because I can’t stay at the cottage. Miles and Lark will have visitors from out of town staying there soon.”

In a shot, her expression had gone from lively to troubled. She idly patted the back of a deck chair. “I’m sorry to have bothered you. I know this was kind of a wild idea.” She walked past him and stepped off the boat.

Now she was running off? “Wait a second, Andi. Where are you going?”

She put her sunglasses back on, but before her eyes disappeared behind them, he saw them change again. Now she looked upset, even sad. “I’ve taken up too much of your time.”

“Aren’t you going to wait for my answer?” Zeke had numbers running through his head, but they seemed meaningless. He’d never been a landlord before. If she wanted to live on the boat, what was to stop him from letting her? Well, given some time to think about it, he could probably come up with all kinds of good reasons why it was a bad idea. But he didn’t care. He and his dad could use a little life around the store.

“Answer?” Her sunglasses went back to the top of her head. She squinted in the bright sunlight.

“You asked what I’d charge.”

“Are you serious?”

“I was about to ask you that.” Some banter saved him from admitting he had no idea what kind of deal to make.

She folded her arms over her chest and tilted her head. “I was...am. But how do I know you won’t start salvaging all the valuable parts out from under me?”

He choked back a laugh at the teasing question. He didn’t want to scrap the boat, especially a finely built yacht like this one. “Seems the longer I’m on the boat, the more I like her. I bet she cleans up nice.”

“I’ve refinished my share of woodwork,” she said with a shrug. “It’s been a while, but I liked it. Loved it, actually. It was so satisfying to see the ugly transformed to beautiful again.”

She might be a stranger, but he understood a little about her already. Zeke pointed to the store. “As it happens, I have the tools and supplies you’d need to take on that job.”

“I just bet you do.” She patted a bronze fitting at the base of the canopy. “I’ll bet you have what I’d need to make this tarnished old bronze gleam in the sunshine.”

“Donovan Marine Supply at your service.”

She gave him a long look and stepped back aboard the boat. The air vibrated around him, like a low buzz. What? Zeke didn’t even believe in that sort of thing. Electricity in the air and all that. Except in a real thunderstorm. Or did he? As of this minute, maybe it wasn’t so impossible for the air to feel charged.

He cleared his throat to help him refocus. “We have power on the dock,” he said to bring himself back to practicalities, “so you wouldn’t have to run the engine to keep the refrigerator and lights on. And as you saw, the boat has a separate shower.”

She flashed an excited smile. “It’s got everything.”

“You can use the washing machines in the mudroom in the back of the store. The second floor is like an oversize storage shed now, but it used be an apartment. I grew up in that place above the store. My dad and I live in a house down the street.”

“Oh, so you live with your dad?”

“No, my dad lives with me.” He played that statement back in his mind, knowing how annoyed he’d sounded.

Her face registered frank surprise “Sorry...I guess.”

Zeke needed to explain, but that was complicated. Instead he waved her off. “Don’t mind me. Let’s get on with the arrangements.” Ideas were coming fast now. “How about a barter deal? You and Brooke live aboard Drifting Dreamer for the summer. You’ll make a start at getting the boat back in shape—cosmetically, anyway. I’ll keep you in supplies.” Grinning, he added, “And plenty of running water from Nelson’s dock.”

“You mean we could live here for free?”

“Of course, for free.” He paused. “Really? You thought I’d charge you?” He brushed his hand across peeling varnish on the cabin. “And I’ll certainly pay you for the hours you put in.”

“Pay me?”

“Well, yes. This is a big undertaking.” A new question came up. “I didn’t think to ask. Do you have a job now?”

“Nope. I thought I might look for something part-time. Maybe see if one of the shops needed extra help for the tourist season. Mostly, I’m concentrating on getting set up here in Two Moon Bay and making sure Brooke is adjusting and all that. But I’ll keep sending my résumé out as well, I suppose. The thing is...”

She stopped talking and with her forehead knitted in a deep frown, she stared off into space. He didn’t know how to finish her sentence, but apparently, neither did she. But this woman he barely knew was fired up to make a change. He wasn’t sure what she had in mind specifically, but somehow, he understood.

The sound of his cell phone interrupted his train of thought. He looked at the screen. His dad. Not a crisis, just a customer with questions. “I’ll be right back. Don’t go away.”

She glanced at him with a faraway look in her eyes, as if the phone had startled her out of her private thoughts. “I won’t.”

He hurried off the boat, but Teddy stayed curled up out in the sun on the deck. Zeke smiled. That dog had found his second home. As he opened the door to the shop, he was still in a daze. From the looks of things, it wasn’t going to be the same old kind of summer.

* * *

THE LIST-MAKER SIDE of Andi was fully engaged. Almost too much so. Jobs swirled through her head looking for a place to land on her priority list, starting with happily canceling the reservation at the Sleepy Moon Inn. Minor decisions about what to pack and move aboard, and what to stash away in storage, were mixed up with the details of the gigantic job of making Drifting Dreamer livable in the next couple of days.

Ready to jump out of her skin, both excited and nervous, she warded off the questions coming from inside her about the wisdom of her decision. How could she explain the impulse to dive into a job like this? Until this surprise had come along this morning, she’d all but forgotten the buzz and tingle in her body that an unexpected stroke of luck could bring. It filled her with so much energy she had to do something to burn it off.

After downing half a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich, Andi put her bike in the rack on the back of her car and drove south down Night Beach Road until it curved and merged with the county road that led to the beach at Sibley State Park, only a quarter mile away. The line of cars on the side road provided plenty of company on the perfect seventy-degree day. She walked her bike out of the parking lot and started pedaling at the start of the dirt bike path that wound through several miles of dense forest.

She inhaled deeply, nearly euphoric from the damp earthy scents filling her nostrils that were the opposite of the stale odor that had permeated the boat. Drifting Dreamer may have been closed up for decades. As Andi slowed her pace, her body buzzed from exertion, but she was also filled with the energy of hope. In her small way, she’d bring Drifting Dreamer to life, starting with airing the boat to banish the stale smell. She’d fling open the portholes. Right. She smiled at the image of herself flinging bronze portholes wherever. But she’d certainly open them as wide as she could. Her mind jumped ahead to the process of restoring the wood, the fixtures—everything. Like Zeke had said, he had the tools she’d need for each job.

Zeke. Now he was a puzzle. An appealing, attractive puzzle. And none of her business. But she couldn’t deny the unfamiliar feelings he’d brought up. The sense of fun, teasing, joking about Teddy. She’d had trouble keeping her eyes off of him. Even at five-ten, she’d had to tilt her head back to look him in the eye—light brown and very warm eyes. His full head of unruly dark blond hair suited him, somehow matched his casual jeans and the T-shirt with the store’s logo on it.

Their time together that morning had been interrupted by a call on his cell from his dad and Zeke has asked her to wait while he hurried off to help deal with a customer. When he’d come back, he’d brought an outdoor electrical cord and tested the interior lights and the fridge. They’d started a list of mundane items, like light bulbs and ice trays. Together, they’d motored to Nelson’s fuel dock and flushed the water tanks,and Zeke showed her how to fill them. He’d checked all of the equipment on the boat against the spec sheet. A couple of exhilarating hours flew by, not only because she saw proof that Drifting Dreamer would be a fun temporary home, but, with her imagination clicking along, she also saw the yacht’s potential to make a comeback. Kind of like an old band getting back together to relive the glory days. Grinning at her comparison, she realized she was eager to dive into the work.

Watching Zeke, listening to him explain the controls on the hot water heater, she’d wondered about his other work. Restoration, he’d said. That piqued her interest. And why had he drifted away from it? Her word, not his.

After about five miles on the deserted dirt path, the woods ended and the paved path set back from the beach started. The cooler air now carried the slightly fishy scent of the lake and the beach. She shared the trail with walkers and adults and kids zipping along on Rollerblades. A few brave souls, mostly kids, had waded into the cold water and squealed as they bounced up and down to keep warm. She watched a couple of adults scurry back to the warm sand.

Andi could have shouted with joy herself. She’d taken on a big job, but for a couple of months, she’d wake up every day and do something that didn’t involve a medical file, test result, patient inquiry, or insurance paper. Never had she imagined living on a motor yacht—in any condition.

By the time she stopped at a turnout to rest her legs before finishing the loop back to the parking lot, she’d burned off not only the nervous energy, but also any lingering self-doubt, too. Instead, she was filled with overwhelming confidence that she’d done the right thing. Rather than struggling to create a normal life for Brooke from a hotel suite, the summer with her little girl stretched long and sweet on the water.

From the minute she’d met Zeke, she was as curious about his dad as she was about him. For one thing, why had Zeke snapped at her over her question about living with his father? His only prickly moment. None of her business, of course, but Zeke had learned about Brooke and Miles. She might have known he’d already met them both, especially since Miles and Lark were part of the waterfront community in Two Moon Bay.

Did Zeke need to know about her second ex-husband? Of course not. Why had she even thought of it? No matter how much time had passed, whenever Roger came to mind, a heavy sensation settled into every muscle in her body. Those memories still had the power to make her feel bad about herself.

Andi walked her bike to an empty picnic table in the turnout and pulled her tablet out of her backpack. A few minutes later, she had a new document with to-do lists side by side on her screen, each with items under the headings Before and After, in reference to the move. It took no time at all to create a couple of long lists.

Done with her lists for the time being, Andi texted Miles, telling him she’d found a place. She added, Details later, want to surprise Brooke.

And what a fun surprise it was.

And mysterious, she thought, as she got on her bike and began pedaling back to the parking lot. But if Drifting Dreamer was a classic design and had been built in a well-known boatyard, there would have to be some record of her somewhere. A boat registry? Or boatyard records? It couldn’t hurt to do a little online research.

* * *

IT WAS LATE that night before Zeke had a chance to do even a quick search. And it was a fluke that a notice in a Duluth newspaper led to the first mention of the boat that was bobbing in the breeze at his dock. It seemed that someone named Charles Peterson had thrown a launch party in September of 1939 for Drifting Dreamer. He must not have had much time to use it that late in the year, not up in Lake Superior.

Zeke’s first thought was how many Charles Petersons probably lived in Minnesota in the 1930s.

“Well, we have one clue, Teddy,” Zeke said to the dog snoozing at his feet. “Are you impressed?” The dog opened one eye. Zeke laughed. He bet Andi would find this news quite intriguing. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

He sat back in the chair, staring at the man in the photo standing on the dock next to his boat. Now, almost eighty years later, a woman he didn’t know was moving onto a boat he’d never heard of forty-eight hours ago. It made him wonder what would happen next.