“That’s right, Dad,” Zeke responded, as if on autopilot. Talk about a rut. Same walk, same quip every morning.
When the door closed behind the man and the beast, Zeke counted on fifteen minutes to catch up after yesterday’s glitch. He’d put over one hundred miles on his truck driving to exchange orders addressed to the wrong customers so that each package got to the right person. Fortunately, the people involved had done business with Donovan Marine Supply for years. Don’t worry, they’d said. They understood. But how could they? Zeke sometimes had trouble understanding what was happening to his dad.
Correcting these mistakes not only took time, but it also meant leaving Dad alone in the shop. Now, before he got too deep into handling the orders that had come in online overnight, Zeke hurried to the section his dad has stocked the day before. Familiar dread settled in his chest as he prepared himself to double-check the pricing and placement, and, if necessary, fix mistakes.
Crouching to look at the cost of the existing stock of various sizes of nylon line, Zeke matched them against the pricing on the new order. He let all the air out of his lungs and his breathing returned to normal. But that didn’t clear his conscience. No matter how well he prepared himself, he couldn’t fight off little stabs of guilt every time he did precisely what his dad had accused him of—going behind him to check his work.
Maybe he wouldn’t feel like such a sneak if his dad’s memory lapses, or more typically, loss of focus, occurred every day or even every week. But they didn’t. Most of the time, his dad’s work lived up to the standards their customers expected from Art Donovan, and that Art expected of Zeke. But even occasional glitches cost them money—and goodwill—all the same.
Zeke checked the last of the new stock of stainless deck hardware. Satisfied it was in good shape and priced correctly, he went back to orders on the computer.
Zeke’s mood lifted when he saw the orders for two anchor packages—anchor, chain and line. Not bad. They hadn’t even opened the door yet and they already had a substantial sale scheduled for customer pickup later that day. He moved on to the next order, this one for paint and varnish. That made him think of Drifting Dreamer. As he’d gone to sleep last night, the old yacht hung out in his thoughts. What had happened that turned such a classic boat into a wreck? One thing was sure—if they decided to sell fast and get it off their hands, the new owner was going to need a whole lot of both paint and varnish.
Or maybe he’d take on the job of giving that yacht a new life and recover the costs in the sale price. It was an appealing idea Zeke made himself shake off. He barely had time for the occasional building restoration job that came his way. Where would he find time to restore an old boat? He shouldn’t go down this road, anyway—the one where he saw the boat like she was a person with a brain and a heart and whose glory days were behind her.
Zeke heard the back screen-door hinges squeak, the signal his dad and Teddy were back.
“Hey, Zeke, there’s a lady down by the boat,” Art said, coming around the corner to the counter. “You know, that old yacht from yesterday.”
“Drifting Dreamer, Dad,” he said drily. “She’s the only boat we own.” Was there more to the story? “Uh, did she have a question or want something?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t talk to her. We have too much to do around here to stop and chat to a stranger. Even a good-looking one. The gal has some long hair.” Art let go of the leash and in a flash, Teddy turned and made a beeline for the back door.
“There goes the dog.” Zeke bit his tongue before he could snap at his dad, who hadn’t hooked the latch on the door to keep Teddy inside. “I’ll go get him.”
Teddy was out the door and headed for the dock, but Zeke managed to grab the leash off the grass and slow him down. “Hey, buddy, you can’t go out by yourself.” The dog pulled on the leash and led Zeke straight for the woman standing on the dock looking at the boat. He saw what his dad meant. Her dark hair fell more than halfway down her back.
“Okay, Teddy, we’ll stay out a little longer.” He let Teddy take him to the woman, who was tall and slender, and wore jeans and a red T-shirt. When she saw him coming, she lifted her sunglasses and perched them on her head. In her other hand, she held a giant-size Bean Grinder to-go cup.
“Good morning,” she called out, smiling. “I suppose I’m trespassing.”
He was tongue-tied. By a pretty smile and long legs. He raised his hand in protest. “Probably so, but we won’t call the sheriff, at least not yet.”
“I see. I have to prove myself first.” She held up the cup. “I’m armed only with the Bean Grinder’s morning mix.”
“In that case, we’ll...” Zeke watched Teddy sniffing the woman’s sneakers. “I was going to say we’ll call off the dogs, but, too late.”
She reached down and scratched Teddy behind his ears. “No problem. I’m not afraid of a curious dog. I was out walking last night and saw this boat, but it was dark so I couldn’t see much. Something made me walk over this morning to get a better look.”
“Well, you’re only our second visitor since the boat arrived yesterday morning.” He explained that Nelson White, the owner of the marina and boatyard next door, had also wandered down to see the new arrival. Zeke nodded to the boat. “Nelson probably thinks the Dreamer is an eyesore bringing down the neighborhood.”
Zeke pulled on Teddy’s leash to stop him from circling the visitor and wrapping the leash around her legs. “What do you think?” Why had he asked that? Just to keep her from walking away?
“Right now, I’m thinking your dog is using his nose to learn all about me and where I’ve been this morning.” Her smile grew bigger as she stared at Teddy.
“That’s no doubt true.” Zeke eagerly grabbed the chance to play along. He hadn’t had this much conversation with a stranger—a female stranger—in a long time. Well, except for customers. What else had he been missing? “His name is Teddy, by the way.”
“Theodore Donovan, I presume,” she said, deadpan, as she pointed to their giant sign mounted high enough on the building to be visible from the water. “Hmm, sounds like he should run for office.”
Zeke laughed from deep in his chest. “We never got as far as Theodore. He’s plain ol’ black-and-brown Teddy. And now he has a last name. We won’t tell him, or he’ll get a big head.”
She narrowed her eyes in amusement. “If Teddy is like most dogs I know, he’s probably spoiled rotten and already has a big head.”
Her dark blue eyes glanced down at Teddy and then to the side to take in Drifting Dreamer. But, he noted, she now seemed to be studying him. “I’m Zeke, and as it happens, my real last name is Donovan.”
He offered his free hand and she switched her coffee cup so she could grasp it. “I’m Andi Sterling. And I’m new in town.”
“I figured that out,” Zeke said. Her soft hand, extra warm from the coffee cup, gripped his.
“How so?”
No good reason, he thought, but that was no answer at all. “Because you don’t look familiar. Sometimes I think I’ve met most everyone around here at least once.”
“Well, now you know me, too. I’ve only been in Two Moon Bay for a few days.” Suddenly, her expression changed from lighthearted to serious.
“Were you curious about the boat?” He gestured to the stern. “Drifting Dreamer. The name mostly wore off with the other paint.” The hull once had been glossy black with the name painted on in bronze gold.
“You own the boat?” she asked, not looking at him but at the yacht.
“We