to him, ‘Daddy, why don’t we ever eat lobster?’
“Now, he straightened right up like she’d smacked him, and he raps out, ‘Because we can afford meat!’”
I laughed.
“That’ll’ve been quite some time ago—lobster’s a luxury food now, even in some parts of Maine.”
“Well, he was old family lobster; likely his ideas had been formed by his daddy.”
“There’s that.”
We washed up, comfortably. After the galley was shipshape again, he got down his two wine glasses, while I dealt with the bottle.
The cork came out with a satisfying pop, and I looked a question to Borgan.
“Might as well take the whole bottle up. That way, we won’t have to move from the comfy seats if we want another glass.”
“Is that efficient, or lazy?”
“Efficient,” he said promptly, and I laughed again.
He took one step forward, carrying the glasses, frowned slightly, and turned back to open the cabinet and take out a coffee mug decorated with an image of Bug Light.
“Company?”
“Could be. Now I’ve gotta figure out who gets the mug.”
* * *
If company was coming, she/he/they/it hadn’t arrived while we were below. More watercraft had, though.
“If my legs were longer, I could walk across the harbor on the bows of boats.”
Borgan looked out over the accumulated company.
“Is getting a little thick, isn’t it? I’d hate to have to try that walk myself, but I take your meaning. Wine?”
“Please.”
He poured and we settled side by side into deck chairs. Idly, I wondered where our visitor would sit, when or if they arrived. If Gray Lady carried a third chair he wasn’t being in any hurry to bring it out.
I raised my glass, “To the land and the sea,” I offered.
Next to me, he raised his glass in answer.
“Stronger together than apart.”
We drank. I sighed . . .
. . . and a high, fretful voice reached us clearly across the water.
“How much longer , Grandpa? I wanna see the fireworks!”
“Should only be another couple minutes, Eddie. Now, remember what I told you about keeping your voice down, because sound carries over the water, and we don’t want to bother our neighbors.”
“But our neighbors aren’t here!”
“Sure they are,” said a second high voice that seemed older than the first child’s voice. Possibly a sister. “Everybody around us on their boats, they’re our neighbors, because we’re near each other.”
Depending on how old she was, that was either a good or a darn good parsing. It probably wouldn’t satisfy her little brother, though.
I sipped my wine, listening to other, lower voiced conversations, and watching the stars. It was good and dark by now, and I was starting to enter into Eddie’s feelings. When were they going to start the show?
It was just about then that I heard a faint plash, as if someone had thrown a beer bottle into the water. I turned my head toward the stern.
“That’ll be her,” Borgan said comfortably.
“You were certain of me, then?” came a deep, rich voice. A shadow moved in the darkness at the stern, resolving almost immediately into Nerazi, quite completely naked, save the sealskin thrown over her shoulder.
She’s a queenly woman, is Nerazi, her skin brown and smooth, her face round, her eyes large and dark and liquid. Her hair is silver, and worn in a single long braid, much like I’ve taken to wearing my own black, much shorter hair.
“I thought you might stop by,” Borgan said. “Mug o’wine?”
Nerazi dropped her sealskin on the deck somewhat in advance of Borgan’s right, from which point she would be able to see both of us and the fireworks, if they ever got going.
“Did Princess Kaederon not instruct you in the proper vessel for wine?”
Back some years ago, a lot of people had called me “Princess Kaederon,” now Nerazi’s the only one. She might just do it to tweak me, though I doubted it. Nerazi rarely does anything for only one reason. It was possible that she wanted to be sure that I
“Now, he straightened right up like she’d smacked him, and he raps out, ‘Because we can afford meat!’”
I laughed.
“That’ll’ve been quite some time ago—lobster’s a luxury food now, even in some parts of Maine.”
“Well, he was old family lobster; likely his ideas had been formed by his daddy.”
“There’s that.”
We washed up, comfortably. After the galley was shipshape again, he got down his two wine glasses, while I dealt with the bottle.
The cork came out with a satisfying pop, and I looked a question to Borgan.
“Might as well take the whole bottle up. That way, we won’t have to move from the comfy seats if we want another glass.”
“Is that efficient, or lazy?”
“Efficient,” he said promptly, and I laughed again.
He took one step forward, carrying the glasses, frowned slightly, and turned back to open the cabinet and take out a coffee mug decorated with an image of Bug Light.
“Company?”
“Could be. Now I’ve gotta figure out who gets the mug.”
* * *
If company was coming, she/he/they/it hadn’t arrived while we were below. More watercraft had, though.
“If my legs were longer, I could walk across the harbor on the bows of boats.”
Borgan looked out over the accumulated company.
“Is getting a little thick, isn’t it? I’d hate to have to try that walk myself, but I take your meaning. Wine?”
“Please.”
He poured and we settled side by side into deck chairs. Idly, I wondered where our visitor would sit, when or if they arrived. If Gray Lady carried a third chair he wasn’t being in any hurry to bring it out.
I raised my glass, “To the land and the sea,” I offered.
Next to me, he raised his glass in answer.
“Stronger together than apart.”
We drank. I sighed . . .
. . . and a high, fretful voice reached us clearly across the water.
“How much longer , Grandpa? I wanna see the fireworks!”
“Should only be another couple minutes, Eddie. Now, remember what I told you about keeping your voice down, because sound carries over the water, and we don’t want to bother our neighbors.”
“But our neighbors aren’t here!”
“Sure they are,” said a second high voice that seemed older than the first child’s voice. Possibly a sister. “Everybody around us on their boats, they’re our neighbors, because we’re near each other.”
Depending on how old she was, that was either a good or a darn good parsing. It probably wouldn’t satisfy her little brother, though.
I sipped my wine, listening to other, lower voiced conversations, and watching the stars. It was good and dark by now, and I was starting to enter into Eddie’s feelings. When were they going to start the show?
It was just about then that I heard a faint plash, as if someone had thrown a beer bottle into the water. I turned my head toward the stern.
“That’ll be her,” Borgan said comfortably.
“You were certain of me, then?” came a deep, rich voice. A shadow moved in the darkness at the stern, resolving almost immediately into Nerazi, quite completely naked, save the sealskin thrown over her shoulder.
She’s a queenly woman, is Nerazi, her skin brown and smooth, her face round, her eyes large and dark and liquid. Her hair is silver, and worn in a single long braid, much like I’ve taken to wearing my own black, much shorter hair.
“I thought you might stop by,” Borgan said. “Mug o’wine?”
Nerazi dropped her sealskin on the deck somewhat in advance of Borgan’s right, from which point she would be able to see both of us and the fireworks, if they ever got going.
“Did Princess Kaederon not instruct you in the proper vessel for wine?”
Back some years ago, a lot of people had called me “Princess Kaederon,” now Nerazi’s the only one. She might just do it to tweak me, though I doubted it. Nerazi rarely does anything for only one reason. It was possible that she wanted to be sure that I
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