Jesse knew what that was like.
Circulating the photograph was the best way to spread the word about this woman. He fished it out of his breast pocket where it had lain against his heart. His hand shook slightly as he handed it to Judson, but he pretended it was just the wind.
Judson stared at the photograph for a very long time. Then he let out a low whistle. “Damn, she looks like a princess out of that fairy tale. You know, where she pricks her finger—”
“I don’t read fairy tales.”
Judson put the photo plate in his pocket. “This is one amazing catch.”
“You don’t know,” Jesse muttered, walking Judson back to his horse. “You don’t know the half of it.”
All that day, the new information and old memories haunted Jesse. Ordinarily, he kept the past in some dark corner of his heart, where he couldn’t see it, couldn’t feel it. But somehow, the arrival of the woman lit a candle in that shadowy place, shedding light on things he had kept hidden for years.
There was an almost eerie serendipity in the idea that the stranger had been borne into his life by the Blind Chance. In his mind’s eye, he could see the schooner-rigged ship as it had been the day they’d christened it fourteen years before. Jesse hadn’t known it at the time, but his future had been defined that day. He closed his eyes, letting the memories in….
The sleek hull of the ship gleamed with fresh paint, the brass fittings were polished to a sheen and the teakwood railings felt silky to the touch. The scent of ocean spray filled the air.
“Blind Chance,” Emily had teased, tugging at his sleeve. “What sort of name is that for a ship?” She looked as fresh and perfect as the ship, in lots of ruffles and lace, a bonnet shading her china-doll face. There was more to Emily than blond-and-pink prettiness, though. She had a streak of mischief in her that delighted, and a breezy charm Jesse knew he’d never tire of.
“Granger’s idea. He insisted on being the one to name it, since I got to name the Trident.”
“Oh, now there’s an original name.” Her laughter made a bright counterpoint to the melody played by the brass band on the afterdeck. Everything about the day glittered with a diamond brilliance. The ship’s rigging was hung with rows of ensign flags, each deck festooned with huge flower arrangements. Tables laden with sweets and hors d’oeuvres lined the pier.
Company officials and the crew and all their families had joined in the festivities. The ship, Jesse reflected, was a microcosm of his world—friends and family and business associates all united in commerce. He surveyed the scene around him with complete satisfaction.
“You’re grinning like the Cheshire cat,” Emily said, tapping her kid-booted foot in time to the music.
“And why shouldn’t I? As the luckiest fellow in all creation, I think I have the right.”
She leaned into him—discreet as always, for Emily was nothing if not a perfect lady—and said, “Do you think everyone will be surprised when we tell them our news?”
“I don’t see how. It’s been pretty obvious that I adore you, Miss Leighton.”
“Oh, Jesse.” A breeze off the bay caught her sigh. “It’s going to be so perfect. We’ll be so happy together.” She gazed down at the midships deck, where ladies were milling about, twirling their fringed parasols. More than one shot a glance toward the rail where Jesse and Emily stood.
“Such a shame, though,” Emily said.
“What’s a shame?”
“After we make our announcement, that deck will be positively littered with broken hearts.”
He grinned at her. “You exaggerate, darling.”
“Oh, heavens, don’t pretend you don’t know. Half my class at Saint Albans sleeps with some token from you under their pillows.”
“And what do you sleep with, Em?”
She winked. “Nothing but dreams, Jesse. Nothing but dreams.”
They watched in companionable silence, waving as Emily’s parents arrived. Gentlemen in seersucker suits joined the ladies, and the dancing began. “It’s men’s hearts that’ll be in pieces, Em,” said Jesse. He spotted Granger in the high bow of the ship. Together, he and Granger would take over the helm, leading the Shoalwater Bay Company into the future.
At the moment, Granger sat on an upended crate with his fair head bent, a thick rope in his hands as he demonstrated sailors’ knots to a rapt group of boys.
“No matter what else you think about Granger, he does love children,” Emily said, noticing where Jesse’s attention had wandered. “I always thought he would be the first of us to marry.”
A few moments later, Granger left the boys practicing their half hitches and went to the deck. Jesse’s younger sister, Annabelle, was there, looking coltish and shy as she clung to her mother’s hand and greeted the guests.
Granger made an elaborate bow before the ten-year-old, then led her into a dance. Even from a distance, Jesse could see her blush with pride and pleasure.
A blast from the ship’s horn interrupted the dancing. Jesse’s father waved to him and Emily, gesturing them down to the pier. Thomas Clapp, Granger’s father, announced through a bullhorn that it was time for the christening. The crowd surged along the dock and gathered there, buzzing with excitement.
Photographers with their cameras mounted on tripods jockeyed for position during the brief speeches from Morgan and Clapp. Granger leaned over and gallantly kissed Emily’s hand, whispering, “I hope you saved me a dance.”
She blushed, but before she could reply, the speeches ended. Both Jesse and Granger were handed bottles of Dom Perignon, tethered by scarlet ribbons to the prow of the ship.
“Lord have mercy,” Granger complained good-naturedly. “What a waste of fine champagne.” He pressed his lips to the bottle in a passionate kiss, and the crowd roared. His grin was slightly hard-edged—chiseled, Jesse knew, by the constant, strident demands of his parents. “Ready, old pal?” Granger asked.
“Not quite.” Jesse’s heart filled with anticipation. What a perfect time, what a perfect day, to share his news. He made a great show of stepping back to hand Emily the bottle. “This is an honor that belongs to Emily Leighton, my bride-to-be.”
For just a heartbeat, there was stunned silence, broken only by the shivering of lines against the masts and the lapping of the water at the hull. In that heartbeat, Jesse took it all in—Emily’s glowing smile, his mother’s wordless gasp followed by a gush of tears, his father’s hand lifting to slap him on the back, Mr. and Mrs. Clapp exchanging a cold glare before pasting on their smiles. But most of all, Jesse saw Granger. More clearly than he’d ever seen him. It only took a moment, but he saw something in Granger’s eyes ignite and then die. Granger, too, had been in love with Emily.
“Congratulations, son,” his father declared, and the hearty applause that followed chased away the frozen moment Jesse had sensed when he’d looked at Granger.
“All the best to you,” Thomas Clapp said expansively. He thumped his own son on the back a bit harder than good nature dictated. “How about that, eh? Your partner beat you out again. Looks like you’d better find yourself a bride and give me some grandkids to spoil.”
Granger went red to the tips of his ears. “All in good time, Father,” he muttered.
Something had changed that day. Though Jesse hadn’t realized it at the time, there was a subtle shift in the dynamics of the three friends, as if the world had tilted on its axis, never to right itself again. Jesse and Granger and Emily. They’d