Evan should have kept walking. Instead, he looked back at Blue Heron rocking against the dock. Clare saw it. How long were you planning to disappear? I wasn't disappearing.
You tried to buy a boat for weekends to do what? Sail alone? That was the attractive part. Clare studied him. Bad breakup?
No. Divorce? No. Secret family? Evan stared at her. I like to eliminate possibilities. My friends have decided being single is a medical condition.
Clare laughed. Every dinner becomes a setup. Every barbecue has someone's cousin. I wanted one summer where nobody asked if I was dating. Clare nodded toward the boat.
And now a woman stole your sailboat. You outbid me by $50. I prefer one fairly. And now you want me on it for one afternoon. Evan shook his head.
Clare tilted her head. What exactly are you avoiding? Women or boats? At the moment, both? She smiled.
Friday, noon, one trip to Eastport. No, I'll bring lunch. No, you can call it your boat while you're sailing. Evan looked at her. Clare held up one finger temporarily.
For the first time since the auction ended, he laughed. That annoyed him more than losing the boat. Friday, Clare said. Evan started walking. He made it six steps before calling back.
What kind of lunch? Clare's grin widened. She had him. Neither of them knew it yet. Friday at noon, Evan arrived at the marina 7 minutes early and immediately regretted it.
Clare was already on Blue Heron with one foot on the dock and both hands wrapped around a line that had somehow tied itself into something resembling a legal dispute. You're early, she said. So are you. I own the boat. My condolences.
My boat. Evan stepped aboard. One afternoon, he said, we move her to Eastport. I make sure you don't hit anything expensive. And then I returned to my peaceful, complicationfree life.
Clare handed him the tangled line. That life sounds fragile. He looked at the knot. What did you do to this? I tied it.
That wasn't my question. For the next 20 minutes, Blue Heron seemed determined to prove Evan right. The cabin door would not stay closed. A jib sheet had wedged itself under a cleat. The radio produced only static until Clare hit the side with her palm.
A weather report came through immediately. Evans stared at her. What? You fixed marine electronics by slapping them. It responded to leadership.
That is not leadership. It worked. He checked the engine, the fuel line, then the engine again. Clare watched from above. Do you inspect your toaster like this?
My toaster has never left a harbor. You worry professionally. I prepare. You prepare anxiously. That's still preparing.
By the time they cast off, Clare had stopped asking whether something was safe and simply waited for Evan to announce it. She took the helm once they cleared the marina. Evan watched the wind, the traffic, the sail trim, and possibly the rotation of the earth. "Relax," she said. "I am relaxed.
You've checked that telltale six times. It keeps moving. That's what wind does." He looked at her. Clare smiled toward the water.
The Chesapeake opened around them, busy with white sails. For the first time since the auction, neither was arguing. Then a kettle whistled below deck. Evan turned. You put a kettle on coffee while we're under sail.