treatment? She bit her lip.
When he was the Vampiress’s favorite client, and the son of her dream client, you did
. . . .
She let the passengers find their places while she fumbledwith the main-deck microphone. There was another one up in the bridge, but she didn’t want to use the one next to Mr. Grumpy. While she waited, she rummaged through the drawers in the galley until she found what she was looking for: one of Drew’s whale books. As she flipped through, she scraped her mind to remember anything Drew had told her about whales, or how he usually started his presentation. She’d been on this ride with him several times, sometimes on business so she could give him marketing tips, and other times on private outings with their friends because Drew loved it so much.
Baleen
. The word jumped off the page. He always explained that to them, and how whales were divided into baleen and something else. . . .
“Welcome, everyone!” she began into the microphone. “We hope you enjoy your visit today on the
Duke
. My name is Lia, and I’ll be narrating for you today. We have Captain Evan Betancourt navigating our ship, and Coraline Jones offering coffee, soft drinks, popcorn, and other sundries in the galley. . . .”
“And chocolate-walnut cookies!” Coraline yelled.
Lia had to bend down from her perch outside the galley door to peer inside toward Cora’s voice. “What?”
“I brought homemade chocolate-walnut cookies!” Cora said in a stage whisper. “One free per passenger.”
“. . . And homemade chocolate-walnut cookies,” Lia said into the microphone. “One free per passenger.”
Giddy claps erupted from the first-graders.
The motor gave a funny rev right then, like an impatient boyfriend gunning his V-8 in the parking lot, and Lia wondered if that was Evan’s weird way of communicating. She glanced up the steps. She didn’t want to extend their interaction any more than she had to—he’d made his request pretty clear—but she clicked off the microphone and jogged up to see if everything was okay. On the second step, though, she winced and grabbed her ankle. This thing was going to swell like crazy once she got off it. She remembered the Advil packet and emergency ice sitting on the galley counter and gave two small points to Captain Betancourt.
Up at the helm, Evan had found a pair of Drew’s binoculars and was adjusting them with another scowl.
“Are you signaling me?” she asked, trying to throw enough indignation into her voice to let him know she didn’t like to be summoned with engine revs.
“We ready?” he drawled.
The view from up here was pretty spectacular—she never came up here with Drew. The entire north end of the marina was visible, a thicket of white masts sticking up like matchsticks against the jewel-tone blue of the ocean. On the other side, palm trees and Cape Cod–styled buildings surrounded a brick-lined patio to make up the small Sandy Cove marina: two gift shops, a tackle shop, a high-end clothing shop, a sandwich-and-coffee shop, and the ticket office. Lia took a split second to take it all in, along with a deep breath of salt air. Navigating from up this high must be pretty life affirming.
“We’re missing a few people,” she said, taking one last sweep of the shingled shops and hyndrangea-lined parking lot. “But it
is
past ten.”
“Do you know how to cast off the lines?”
“Oh . . . not exactly.” She glanced down at the cleats on the dock. “I can probably manage if you show me. How many are there?” From up here, she could see they crossed one another like a game of cat’s cradle.
“Four.” Evan ducked under the canopy and lumbered down the stairs and through the crowd of tourists.
So much for keeping him hidden from the guests.
Lia followed, leaping off the boat where he did, watching him unravel the first line from the cleat. His movements were natural and forceful, despite the hangover—like some kind of machine on
When he was the Vampiress’s favorite client, and the son of her dream client, you did
. . . .
She let the passengers find their places while she fumbledwith the main-deck microphone. There was another one up in the bridge, but she didn’t want to use the one next to Mr. Grumpy. While she waited, she rummaged through the drawers in the galley until she found what she was looking for: one of Drew’s whale books. As she flipped through, she scraped her mind to remember anything Drew had told her about whales, or how he usually started his presentation. She’d been on this ride with him several times, sometimes on business so she could give him marketing tips, and other times on private outings with their friends because Drew loved it so much.
Baleen
. The word jumped off the page. He always explained that to them, and how whales were divided into baleen and something else. . . .
“Welcome, everyone!” she began into the microphone. “We hope you enjoy your visit today on the
Duke
. My name is Lia, and I’ll be narrating for you today. We have Captain Evan Betancourt navigating our ship, and Coraline Jones offering coffee, soft drinks, popcorn, and other sundries in the galley. . . .”
“And chocolate-walnut cookies!” Coraline yelled.
Lia had to bend down from her perch outside the galley door to peer inside toward Cora’s voice. “What?”
“I brought homemade chocolate-walnut cookies!” Cora said in a stage whisper. “One free per passenger.”
“. . . And homemade chocolate-walnut cookies,” Lia said into the microphone. “One free per passenger.”
Giddy claps erupted from the first-graders.
The motor gave a funny rev right then, like an impatient boyfriend gunning his V-8 in the parking lot, and Lia wondered if that was Evan’s weird way of communicating. She glanced up the steps. She didn’t want to extend their interaction any more than she had to—he’d made his request pretty clear—but she clicked off the microphone and jogged up to see if everything was okay. On the second step, though, she winced and grabbed her ankle. This thing was going to swell like crazy once she got off it. She remembered the Advil packet and emergency ice sitting on the galley counter and gave two small points to Captain Betancourt.
Up at the helm, Evan had found a pair of Drew’s binoculars and was adjusting them with another scowl.
“Are you signaling me?” she asked, trying to throw enough indignation into her voice to let him know she didn’t like to be summoned with engine revs.
“We ready?” he drawled.
The view from up here was pretty spectacular—she never came up here with Drew. The entire north end of the marina was visible, a thicket of white masts sticking up like matchsticks against the jewel-tone blue of the ocean. On the other side, palm trees and Cape Cod–styled buildings surrounded a brick-lined patio to make up the small Sandy Cove marina: two gift shops, a tackle shop, a high-end clothing shop, a sandwich-and-coffee shop, and the ticket office. Lia took a split second to take it all in, along with a deep breath of salt air. Navigating from up this high must be pretty life affirming.
“We’re missing a few people,” she said, taking one last sweep of the shingled shops and hyndrangea-lined parking lot. “But it
is
past ten.”
“Do you know how to cast off the lines?”
“Oh . . . not exactly.” She glanced down at the cleats on the dock. “I can probably manage if you show me. How many are there?” From up here, she could see they crossed one another like a game of cat’s cradle.
“Four.” Evan ducked under the canopy and lumbered down the stairs and through the crowd of tourists.
So much for keeping him hidden from the guests.
Lia followed, leaping off the boat where he did, watching him unravel the first line from the cleat. His movements were natural and forceful, despite the hangover—like some kind of machine on
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