Port Townsend, Washington
the rail of the eighty-foot yacht kissed the dock’s edge. Hank reached out as an unaffected adolescent deckhand tossed him the bow line. Without thought, he made fast the forward cleat and walked the length of the boat. He stretched up and took the stern line from the billionaire, Olin Ou. Like many sailboats with a pedigree for racing, the name of the boat had been emblazoned across the side. Narrow, yellow letters over dark gray shadowing formed a graphic that didn’t fit the elegance of the boat, but the font looked familiar. A clean cursive, like from a neon sign, spelled out GalaxSea.
Olin Ou stepped down from the boat like a man trapped at sea for weeks. He shook Hank’s hand. His kind smile showed perfect teeth, but his face had deep creases. Both features didn’t fit the middle-aged man of Asian ancestry. His hair also seemed out of place for a man of means. No style at all, just the perfect distribution of silver-gray and jet-black bristled in a crewcut.
“You can call me Olin. Jump on board and meet the kids. I’ve got to pee like a racehorse.” And he bolted for the marina’s restrooms.
The girl who had thrown him the bow line was nowhere on deck. He had not seen her duck into the cabin. He chuckled to himself. Skinny kid. If she had fallen overboard, nobody would hear a splash.
With his “ahoy” unanswered, he climbed aboard and walked to the starboard helm. So much room, a place for everything…. His hand caressed one of the electronic winches. He whispered to himself, “What a concept. Comfort and speed.” The teak deck was a classic, but her plumb bow and broad aft were designed to go fast.
Hank’s experienced eye looked over the rigging, up past the three spreaders to take in the tall mast. He estimated the top to be a hundred feet up and did a quick calculation. This luxury yacht carried enough sail to move her at speeds reserved for motorboats and multihulls. He was glad the owner had raced off. It was too obvious that he coveted this boat and it made him feel like a teenage boy gawking at a beautiful woman.
With the confusion dancing in his brain, he made his way down the stairs of the companionway and into the salon. He called out, “Hello?” No sounds came from behind any of the closed doors. There were none of Olin Ou’s kids to meet. He set down his seabag in the spacious room and noted the large horizontal windows set low. He loved the indirect light they offered, and being so close to the water provided an unusual but welcome view. Still, the sailor in him disapproved of its proximity to the waterline. “Nice idea, but it’s straight to the bottom if she breaks open.”
Olin pounded back on board and sped down the stairs with practiced precision. He smiled, “Don’t tell me. The kids are nowhere.”
“Haven’t seen nor heard a peep.”
Olin pounced through the salon, using both hands as he knocked on each of the two forward doors. “There’s a burger joint within walking distance and I’m not doing takeout. I’m leaving in five minutes.” He turned back and smiled. “No response means they’re getting ready… I think. Welcome aboard, Hank. This is your berth.” He flowed past Hank, grabbing his gear on the way like an eager bellboy. Olin opened the door, revealing a stateroom with a private head and a small desk area. “I hope this will suit your needs while we sail together.”
Hank replied, “I guess it’ll do.” Then he gave a sidelong look at Olin and broke into a big grin. His wide eyes took in the king-sized bed molded into the blond woodwork of the boat. Light from a side window and a hatch above brightened the space even more. There was a small TV on an extending arm and a shelf loaded with books, secured in place by a brace, hinged to swing down.
Olin Ou must have caught Hank’s lingering eyes. “There are books everywhere on board. Too bad you won’t be aboard long enough to enjoy them. I’ll leave you to get settled.”
Minutes later, Olin knocked on the open door and said, “Hank, I’m sure you’ll want time to go over the boat. Everything you’ll need is in the cupboard beside the nav station. The boat’s yours. No place is off limits to you, so poke around. Irina’s not coming with the rest of us for dinner.”
“I’m not going, Dad,” yelled a male voice through the closed door of a forward berth.
Olin said, “Well, Hank. That’s that. We’re doing takeout after all. What can I get you? Willy tells me Doc’s is close and has good burgers.”
Hank said, “I’d like a Big Doc Burger with a side of chowder.” He wanted to add, “If you see a redhead server, say goodbye for me.” But he knew better than to ask.
Two young girls walked out of the port berth.
Olin introduced them. “This is Nadia,” he said, motioning toward the girl who had handed him the bow line when they arrived. She stared at him. Black eyeliner wrapped around her penetrating dark eyes and a crisp line stretched outward toward her temples, amplifying what nature started. When the GalaxSea came into the marina and she tossed him the bow line, she did not even glance at him. Now her catlike eyes, incapable of blinking, challenged him.
Hank wanted to laugh, but he forced a neutral face and returned her stare. He remembered hearing somewhere that wild cats will pounce if you avert your eyes. “Hi, Nadia,” he said. “That’s a pretty name.” She turned her head and raced up the companionway stairs, out of sight.
“Hi, Hank. I’m Sydney.” She walked right up and gave him a firm handshake. She also kept eye contact, but her smile of genuine interest was disarming. “Nadia and I are twins—fraternal. It’s just good to get that right out. Don’t you think?” Not waiting for a reply, she said, “I’m into sports. Are you? Soccer’s my favorite. Daddy’s got box seats, but I like to get down into the stands and yell. Do you yell at games?” This time, she waited for an answer.
“As a matter of fact, I do.”
Her dad got behind her and coaxed her along. “Let’s get moving, Sydney. You can interrogate Hank later.”