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.
“JUST TELL ME where we’re going. Why can’t you let me in on your big secret?” Brooke asked in a crabby tone.
Andi was more than a little crabby herself. She frowned at her pouty little girl. “You’d think I was punishing you. I told you, this is a surprise.”
Andi shook her head. A surprise that showed every sign of landing with a thud. The rain had started in the middle of the night. It had let up a little in the last hour or so, but not much. It wasn’t the rain that bothered her. She’d put a couple of umbrellas in the car and they had rain jackets, although Brooke’s barely fit anymore. Andi had already added buying her a new one to her expanding list of things to do.
Brooke squirmed under her seat belt. “I wish my riding camp was starting today.”
“I know you do, sweetie, but it’s not much longer. Right after the Fourth of July. Then you’ll get to ride horses every day.”
When had Brooke started talking about horses and longing for one of her own? Maybe five years ago. She’d already named her horse-to-be. Magic was the first name she picked, and Magic it had stayed. Andi and Miles had agreed to wait until she was twelve before letting her have a horse of her own. By then she’d be old enough to take on the responsibilities of owning a horse, and could earn money doing chores to help pay the boarding fees at one of the nearby stables. Two more years.
“Just think, by the first day of your camp, we’ll be settled in our new place.”
“Did you find us a house like Dad’s?”
Andi shook her head. “Nope.” Naturally, Brooke would compare everything to Miles’s huge new house.
“Then it must be a cottage like Lark’s,” Brooke said confidently.
Keeping the spirit of surprise and intrigue going, Andi shook her head again.
“I know, I know,” Brooke said. “You rented a cool apartment above one of those stores downtown. Maybe on top of the bakery or the ice-cream shop.”
Great, that sounded appealing, even to Andi. “I’m thinking you’ll never guess. But it’s lots of fun.”
Brooke had come home last night full of stories about Sue, the dinosaur at the Field Museum of Natural History. And the bus ride to the zoo? The most exciting ride ever. Who knew public transportation could be so exotic? One day, Brooke announced, she would move to Chicago and live in a building and ride an elevator up to her apartment, where she could see the whole city from her huge windows. Andi hoped her daughter would have everything she dreamed of. It was a nice idea. Maybe that idea would stick, just like Brooke’s desire for a horse had lasted.
Lark’s cottage was only a few blocks from Donovan’s, Andi’s shorthand for Zeke’s store and docks. With Brooke sitting next to her with her forehead wrinkled in thought, only the slap of the windshield wipers broke the silence. Please, please don’t rain all day, she begged the gods of weather. Yesterday, she’d opened hatches and portholes to air out the boat and cut through the stale odor clinging to everything. She’d used her hand vacuum to clear away the first layer of dust and then wiped away the grime stuck on the woodwork in the staterooms. Then she’d finished up her workday by making up both bunks in the second stateroom, Brooke’s room. Satisfied she’d put the boat in suitable living conditions, she’d gone back to the cottage to wait for Miles to drop off Brooke.
Before leaving the cottage this morning, she encouraged Brooke to pack up a few of the wooden and ceramic horses in her collection, hoping the smile she sent Brooke’s way conveyed the air of fun mystery she intended. “There’s a perfect place for them in your new bedroom,” she’d said.
Andi was eager to share her excitement about restoring Drifting Dreamer. She’d explain to Brooke that the two of them would always remember the year they lived on a yacht all summer. It would be their special adventure. She’d tell her that even this run-down boat could be made beautiful again, just like she’d made their house in Green Bay beautiful. Not that Brooke could remember the months stretching to years of hard work that had made that happen.
Andi pulled into a parking place at the Bean Grinder and took Brooke inside with her to pick up coffee, a carton of milk and two blueberry muffins. “We’ll have our treat at our new table.” Or if the rain and wind let up, they could sit under the canopy at the deck table.
Brooke, distracted by all the pastries in the glass case, nodded but said nothing.
It