Smooth Sailing by Susan X Meagher Page A

computer’s under the cushion of the bench by the table. It’s not very fast, which means you’ll have to be patient…if you can be.”
    “You’re a lifesaver,” Laurie said, nearly skipping into the cabin.
    *
     
    About ten minutes later Laurie poked her head out. “I don’t think I’ve ever yawned that much in my life. My jaw’s getting sore.”
    “Did you get everything to work?”
    “Yeah. I sent a message to him and his secretary and mine. He’ll write back soon.”
    “Is the computer charged?”
    “I didn’t check. Why?”
    “You should bring it out here.”
    “Really? Won’t it get wet?”
    “No, we’re just using the jib to keep us heading in the right direction. You’ll feel better out here.”
    “I feel fine.”
    “You think you do, but yawning a lot is the first sign of seasickness. Next comes sleepiness.”
    “Uh-oh. I can hardly keep my eyes open.”
    “Bring it out here. Trust me.”
    Laurie went back inside and disconnected the computer from its power source. Kaatje started putting away the mainsail, the huge bundle of cloth billowing all across the trampoline and the roof of the cabin. “Can I help?” Laurie asked when she stepped back on deck.
    “Sure, but only if you put the computer back inside. This can be a wet mess.”
    Laurie dashed back in and put the computer back in its secure spot. Then she stood on the deck, waiting for instructions. “Hold onto those stays,” Kaatje ordered. Laurie reached out and grabbed a stout-looking rope, but Kaatje twitched her fingers, directing her to a bunch of metal strands. “The sheets move. The stays are always there…remember? Now get your balance and help me fold this monster.” Laurie pitched in with her full attention, carefully following directions. They quickly had it in order, then Kaatje wrapped some bits of fabric around it to hold it secure.
    “All set. Now you can take the computer out onto the trampoline, or anywhere you feel secure.”
    “Can I sit by you?”
    “Of course. I love having company.”
    “Be right back.” Laurie was back in a flash, sharing the bench with Kaatje. She opened the computer and smiled. “My secretary Wendy is always there when I need her. She’s going to find Fernando and tell him I need to talk to him.”
    Kaatje smiled benignly. “It must be reassuring to have someone you can trust.”
    “Oh, it is. Wendy used to work for the president of our division but she was getting burned out. She thought she’d have less stress working for a senior director, but I think she might regret it sometimes.”
    “You look unrepentant.”
    “I guess I am. Wendy could move anywhere, but she’s stayed with me for two years. I think she feels a little maternal towards me. She rode in the ambulance with me to the hospital, holding my hand while she kept telling me that having a stroke wasn’t that big of a deal.” She rolled her eyes. “She can tend towards catastrophe.”
    “It sounds like she has reason to,” Kaatje said, her gaze level and somber. “Fainting from stress doesn’t sound like something to ignore.”
    “It’s a low blood pressure issue. Nothing to worry about.” People made such a big deal about a little fainting episode. She’d hit the “refresh” button at least a dozen times in the few minutes they’d been chatting and her eyes lit up when she received an e-mail from Fernando. “Here he is,” she said. She looked up at Kaatje. “He says, ‘You did what?’ with about ten exclamation points. That means he thinks it’s funny.”
    “That’s good.” Kaatje waved her hand. “Go ahead and do your work.”
    “Okay.” Laurie was deep into her back and forth with Fernando, drumming her fingers on the edge of the keyboard while she waited for each reply. She lost track of where she was and looked up in surprise when Kaatje loudly cleared her throat. “Oh, shit! How long have I been e-mailing?”
    “About an hour. It’ll start to get dark in another hour. We’d