“You’ve been staring at those plans for an hour,” Gabrielle said as she walked into the living room.
Dennis, who was seated at the large table with a full-size blueprint of a raft design spread out before him, grunted. “It’s not a simple structure.”
“It’s a raft,” she said dryly.
“Yes, but a complex one,” he said, shaking his index finger upward.
Gabrielle rolled her eyes. “So when are you actually going to start building this schooner?”
“This morning,” he answered triumphantly. “I’ve asked Brian to help out, as well as Terry McGuire. He and his mom should be coming over shortly.”
“Ah, I see. Terry’s involvement wouldn’t have anything to do with Mackenzie being a great carpenter, would it?”
He bristled at this suggestion. “No, not at all. I’m fully capable of—”
“Cutting off your own finger,” she inserted.
Dennis sat upright. “I don’t understand why you always underestimate my woodworking skills,” he protested.
“Because your projects always seem to involve a quick trip to the emergency room,” she teased him.
“Twice,” he corrected her.
“This year, yes. But three times last year.” She went over and kissed him on the cheek. “But I still love you. Just please be careful.”
“Not to worry,” he said jovially. “The raft will build itself.”
“Whatever you say, honey.”
An hour later, with enough wood to build an outhouse spread across their front yard, a nail had not yet been hammered. Mackenzie and Dennis were still sitting on the front porch discussing the movement of the rudder, which would be hindered if the current design was used. They turned the prints upside down and then right side up, hoping a new perspective would shed light on a solution.
“I got it!” Mac finally said. “If we just separate those two-by-fours by eight inches, I think there would be enough span for the rudder.”
Dennis studied the plans and thought about what Mac had suggested and then nodded. “Agreed.” He got up and opened the front door. “Boys, we’re ready for you,” he yelled inside. “Time’s a-wastin’.”
He and Mackenzie began to lay out the wood for the decking, with Gabrielle pulling together the tools. Soon Dennis called out to the boys again.
“They probably have their headsets on,” Mackenzie said after another few minutes passed.
“They probably are a little lazy,” he countered, and then in a much louder voice yelled out, “Final warning, gentlemen.”
Brian lethargically walked outside with Terry directly behind. “Do we really have to?” he whined.
“If you’re in the race, you help build the raft—that was our deal,” his father said. He started handing out directions, which they reluctantly began to follow.
When Mackenzie saw that the men were well under way, she walked over and sat next to Gabrielle, who had pulled up several lawn chairs.
“So what do you think?” Gabrielle asked with significant apprehension.
“I think it actually might float,” Mac answered. “It will be heavy, so it will ride low in the water, but I think it will be really stable.”
“Oh, that’s a relief.”
“But, then again, I know absolutely nothing about boats. The thing might sink as soon as it hits the water,” Mac shrugged.
“Well, that’s not encouraging!”
“Don’t worry,” she said, patting Gabrielle’s arm. “Terry’s a poor swimmer, and I wouldn’t let him participate if I thought it was dangerous.”
“Will you be in the race?”
“No, Terry has a major issue with his mother being there—very uncool, he said. So I promised that I would stay on shore.”
“Too bad. I was hoping you would be my husband’s voice of reason out on the water.” Mac laughed. “He takes this so seriously, and this year I think Joshua is egging him on all the more.”
“Friendly competition of testosterone levels, I call it.”
“Watch it, Dad!” Brian yelled out. “You just drilled through my boot!”
“Any blood?” Dennis asked without stopping.
“I don’t think so,” Brian said, but then added more forcefully, “but there could’ve been.”
“Good, let’s continue.”
“Mr. Beezer, can I make a suggestion?”
“Sure, Terry, what is it?”
The teenager put one hand on Dennis’s wrist and the other on the drill. “If you angle your drill this way”—and he moved both wrist and drill at the same time—“you’ll almost always get a perfect forty-five-degree entry.”
Dennis tried it, and then took another screw and tried it again.
“Well, that’s very good, Terry,” he said excitedly. “I never knew that. Thanks a lot.” For the first time that day Terry smiled.
Watching the men’s major struggles and minor triumphs, Gabrielle and Mac passed time with idle conversation. “So, are you going to the Montis Inn party after the race?” Gabrielle asked.
“Probably not. I think that would just worsen everyone’s perception.”
Gabrielle looked at her quizzically. “I don’t follow.”
“The folks who oppose the Walkers think that I’m on their side.”
“I didn’t know there were sides.”
“I didn’t either until I said that the Walkers weren’t as heinous as some people had suggested. I think since then I’ve been labeled a ‘yuppie lover.’ Isn’t that just ludicrous?” She was frustrated and paused to calm herself. “So, I’m just keeping my distance.”
Brian yelled out again. “God, Dad! What are you doing? You just sawed through the tiller!”
Mackenzie jumped up. “I’ll be back,” she called over her shoulder and raced over to the makeshift boatyard.
Mac picked up the plans and handed them to her son. “Terry, take the prints and you and Brian go build the stanchion and outrigger over there.”
Dennis looked at her in surprise. “Can he really do that?” he asked softly as the boys walked away.
“Better than either of us, I guarantee it,” Mac said confidently. “He thinks it would be a crime if people actually knew he was good at something. And I’m sure he enjoys working with his hands.” She paused, looking at her son. “But he astonishes me sometimes. He can construct anything out of anything…very much like his father.”
The memories of those years flashed in her eyes, and Dennis asked cautiously, “Do you ever hear from him?”
“No, that ship’s long set sail,” she said bitterly. “We got a call about three years ago when Rick was unemployed and down on his luck in California.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Me too. Actually, I’m sorry for Terry—no son deserves that from his father.” She desperately wanted to change the subject. “Here, help me lift this, and let’s get this deck finished.”
At one-thirty, Gabrielle brought out lunch for the workers. Brian and Terry filled their plates and quickly went inside.
“God forbid they spend any time with us,” Gabrielle said, hearing the front door slam.
“Honey, don’t take it personally. They’re boys.”
“They’re legal adults,” Gabrielle corrected him.
Mackenzie chimed in. “You know, what concerns me more than being shunned is Terry’s blatant avoidance of any responsibility. That and his bad attitude toward almost everything.”
“I can’t agree more,” Gabrielle said, serving up the plates.
“Ahoy!” a voice called out.
Everyone turned and saw Joshua walking up the driveway, waving.
“Come to illegally photograph the competition, or are you just here to steal our plans?” Dennis said in a sinister tone.
“Dennis, how could you say that to a man of God?” Joshua innocently asked.
“Excuse me?” Dennis laughed. “Wasn’t that eons ago? And if you still have a rapport with your maker, you should start praying now because there is no chance you’ll win this year.”
Joshua looked over at the front yard. The deck was finished and resting on two large pontoons. Likewise, the boys had completed the outrigging and had attached it to the hull. “It actually looks Viking,” Joshua said. “Too bad you’ll lose all that wood when it sinks.”
Gabrielle looked apprehensively at Mackenzie, who just shook her head.