“I CAN’T BELIEVE I FINALLY DID IT,” Sophie said, her hands clenched into fists in the air. “I’m an inventor—a real inventor. I created a clock that notifies people at whatever time they select. I always hoped, but I began to doubt I would be a success.”
Sophie gently stroked the Notification Clock prototype on the worktable of her very own shop. Ethan came up behind her and put his arms around her. He gently moved her hair and kissed her neck. “I never doubted for even a moment that you were going to be a great inventor.”
She turned around in his arms to face him.
“It’s a very good thing you have your own shop,” Ethan said. “I fear if we shared an office, we would be terribly inefficient … at least at working.”
“Very well, then,” Sophie said, twisting out of his arms. “Mr. Miller, I would like to know when my product will be available on the market.”
“Typically, it will take close to a year to complete production.”
“That is acceptable.”
“As your principal investor and manufacturer, I’ve been thinking about the name of your invention,” he said.
“The Notification Clock.”
“I thought perhaps we could call it ‘the Alarm Clock.’”
“Why would anyone want to be alarmed?”
“All right, how about ‘the Timer’?”
Sophie paused to consider it. “‘The Timer’ is much too vague,” she said. “Any clock tells time.”
The prototype began to ding loudly on the desk and Ethan turned off the alarm.
“What was that notification set for, Sophie?”
“To remind me to kiss you,” she said. She put her arms around his neck and kissed him very thoroughly.
Mariah held the sailboat rope tightly, humming her mother’s favorite song, “I’ve Been Roaming.” The wind was blowing so hard, she had to hold her bonnet down with her other hand. Charles finished letting down the sail and tied his end of the rope to the opposite side of the sloop. Mariah released her hold on her hat—she needed both hands to tie a stopper knot. Taking the loose end of the rope, she tied it around one hand, twice, then tucked the rope under the two loops and let it slip off her hand.
A gust of wind blew her bonnet off her head and out into the waves of the English Channel.
“I never liked that hat anyway,” Charles said, as he came to stand by her side.
Mariah laughed and reached her arm around his waist. He put his arm around her shoulders and dropped a kiss in her hair. They watched the view of the south fields of the Bentley estate become more and more distant as the wind caught the white sail and propelled them forward.
Tomorrow, she would come back and paint this scene.
“Where shall we go today?” Charles asked.
“On an adventure, of course.”
“Every day is an adventure with you, Mariah,” he said, and kissed her.