she’ll never match the modern charter boats for speed.”
She handed him a plate from the two stacked beside the barbecue. “You guessed right!”
He wasn’t deterred. “Which also boast sunken cleats, modern fittings, in-floor live-bait tanks—”
“I’m not competing with the luxury end. My prices will be midrange and I’ll target those anglers who value polished wood and history in their charter experience.”
“Sixty years of history, in fact.” One dish filled, Nate picked up the other.
“And the advantage of more space,” she argued. “Even with a full complement of fifteen clients on board, there’s easily five feet between anglers.… Let me go set the table.” Claire escaped inside.
He’d made a sacrifice in coming home. She’d glimpsed the measure of it on the plane, but that didn’t mean she was going to encourage the third degree.
Still, as Claire cleared the table of reports and replaced them with cutlery, she acknowledged he’d raised some good points. The magnitude of her new project was daunting, but a “one day at a time” mentality had served her well since Steve’s death. There was no reason to pull a Chicken Little now. And this day was plenty busy enough with multiple appointments with the estate agent, lawyer and bank. At least, she thought as Nate placed a laden plate in front of her, they’d be working on a full stomach.
She pulled out a chair and sat down. “This looks delicious.”
Dumping his plate, Nate picked up the marketing report from the pile of documents she’d stacked on the couch and opened it.
“Don’t let breakfast get cold,” she warned.
“You’re looking at a four-passenger minimum.… Will that cover costs?”
No prickles. Claire speared a piece of sausage and added a wedge of barbecued tomato. “Mooring fees here are minimal compared to the usual charter bases. I’ll do pick-ups from Whangarei if necessary. And I’ve got support from my former boss at the hotel.” She paused to eat, savoring the tomato-beef combination. “Mmm, this is so good.… We’ll be putting together taster packages for guests and targeting family groups.” She cut into the egg, watched the golden yolk ooze over the toast. “I’m conscious that being a female skipper will work against me with some anglers. But I’m confident I’ll find a niche within the tourist, family and female market. A lot of women game fish.… I’m one of them.”
His expression eased. “You’ve put a lot of effort into this.”
“I had a lot of sleepless nights to fill.” Claire snatched the report out of his hand. “Eat.”
Nate sat down and picked up his cutlery. “I am aware of the irony,” he said. “Showing interest after months of avoiding any involvement. But my absence didn’t mean I stopped caring about you…or Lewis.”
It was an olive branch and Claire took it. No matter what Nate thought, there were some bonds that couldn’t be broken. His concern only confirmed that.
“I know it’ll take time to build up the business,” she admitted. “For the first couple of years I’m only expecting to make enough to cover the boat’s running costs and meet basic living expenses. I’m fully prepared to dip into what’s left from the sale of the house to supplement that. Maybe I’ll have to do a little freelance marketing. Or sublease the boat to another skipper occasionally. I have a lot of options, but the most important thing is to begin.”
She glanced at her watch and started eating faster. “And that means selling the family home in Whangarei, today, if possible.”
He waved his fork. “Have you considered selling this place instead?”
“Absolutely not. It’s been in my family for four generations. It passes to Lewis and Lewis’s kids eventually.”
Nate refilled her coffee mug. “What if you rented out the Whangarei house for a year, see how it goes?”
She shook her head. “I need too much capital, Nate.”
“I could—”
“No, I’m not
She handed him a plate from the two stacked beside the barbecue. “You guessed right!”
He wasn’t deterred. “Which also boast sunken cleats, modern fittings, in-floor live-bait tanks—”
“I’m not competing with the luxury end. My prices will be midrange and I’ll target those anglers who value polished wood and history in their charter experience.”
“Sixty years of history, in fact.” One dish filled, Nate picked up the other.
“And the advantage of more space,” she argued. “Even with a full complement of fifteen clients on board, there’s easily five feet between anglers.… Let me go set the table.” Claire escaped inside.
He’d made a sacrifice in coming home. She’d glimpsed the measure of it on the plane, but that didn’t mean she was going to encourage the third degree.
Still, as Claire cleared the table of reports and replaced them with cutlery, she acknowledged he’d raised some good points. The magnitude of her new project was daunting, but a “one day at a time” mentality had served her well since Steve’s death. There was no reason to pull a Chicken Little now. And this day was plenty busy enough with multiple appointments with the estate agent, lawyer and bank. At least, she thought as Nate placed a laden plate in front of her, they’d be working on a full stomach.
She pulled out a chair and sat down. “This looks delicious.”
Dumping his plate, Nate picked up the marketing report from the pile of documents she’d stacked on the couch and opened it.
“Don’t let breakfast get cold,” she warned.
“You’re looking at a four-passenger minimum.… Will that cover costs?”
No prickles. Claire speared a piece of sausage and added a wedge of barbecued tomato. “Mooring fees here are minimal compared to the usual charter bases. I’ll do pick-ups from Whangarei if necessary. And I’ve got support from my former boss at the hotel.” She paused to eat, savoring the tomato-beef combination. “Mmm, this is so good.… We’ll be putting together taster packages for guests and targeting family groups.” She cut into the egg, watched the golden yolk ooze over the toast. “I’m conscious that being a female skipper will work against me with some anglers. But I’m confident I’ll find a niche within the tourist, family and female market. A lot of women game fish.… I’m one of them.”
His expression eased. “You’ve put a lot of effort into this.”
“I had a lot of sleepless nights to fill.” Claire snatched the report out of his hand. “Eat.”
Nate sat down and picked up his cutlery. “I am aware of the irony,” he said. “Showing interest after months of avoiding any involvement. But my absence didn’t mean I stopped caring about you…or Lewis.”
It was an olive branch and Claire took it. No matter what Nate thought, there were some bonds that couldn’t be broken. His concern only confirmed that.
“I know it’ll take time to build up the business,” she admitted. “For the first couple of years I’m only expecting to make enough to cover the boat’s running costs and meet basic living expenses. I’m fully prepared to dip into what’s left from the sale of the house to supplement that. Maybe I’ll have to do a little freelance marketing. Or sublease the boat to another skipper occasionally. I have a lot of options, but the most important thing is to begin.”
She glanced at her watch and started eating faster. “And that means selling the family home in Whangarei, today, if possible.”
He waved his fork. “Have you considered selling this place instead?”
“Absolutely not. It’s been in my family for four generations. It passes to Lewis and Lewis’s kids eventually.”
Nate refilled her coffee mug. “What if you rented out the Whangarei house for a year, see how it goes?”
She shook her head. “I need too much capital, Nate.”
“I could—”
“No, I’m not
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