Love, Unexpected. Virginia McCullough
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back, he’d brought an outdoor electrical cord and tested the interior lights and the fridge. They’d started a list of mundane items, like light bulbs and ice trays. Together, they’d motored to Nelson’s fuel dock and flushed the water tanks,and Zeke showed her how to fill them. He’d checked all of the equipment on the boat against the spec sheet. A couple of exhilarating hours flew by, not only because she saw proof that Drifting Dreamer would be a fun temporary home, but, with her imagination clicking along, she also saw the yacht’s potential to make a comeback. Kind of like an old band getting back together to relive the glory days. Grinning at her comparison, she realized she was eager to dive into the work.
Watching Zeke, listening to him explain the controls on the hot water heater, she’d wondered about his other work. Restoration, he’d said. That piqued her interest. And why had he drifted away from it? Her word, not his.
After about five miles on the deserted dirt path, the woods ended and the paved path set back from the beach started. The cooler air now carried the slightly fishy scent of the lake and the beach. She shared the trail with walkers and adults and kids zipping along on Rollerblades. A few brave souls, mostly kids, had waded into the cold water and squealed as they bounced up and down to keep warm. She watched a couple of adults scurry back to the warm sand.
Andi could have shouted with joy herself. She’d taken on a big job, but for a couple of months, she’d wake up every day and do something that didn’t involve a medical file, test result, patient inquiry, or insurance paper. Never had she imagined living on a motor yacht—in any condition.
By the time she stopped at a turnout to rest her legs before finishing the loop back to the parking lot, she’d burned off not only the nervous energy, but also any lingering self-doubt, too. Instead, she was filled with overwhelming confidence that she’d done the right thing. Rather than struggling to create a normal life for Brooke from a hotel suite, the summer with her little girl stretched long and sweet on the water.
From the minute she’d met Zeke, she was as curious about his dad as she was about him. For one thing, why had Zeke snapped at her over her question about living with his father? His only prickly moment. None of her business, of course, but Zeke had learned about Brooke and Miles. She might have known he’d already met them both, especially since Miles and Lark were part of the waterfront community in Two Moon Bay.
Did Zeke need to know about her second ex-husband? Of course not. Why had she even thought of it? No matter how much time had passed, whenever Roger came to mind, a heavy sensation settled into every muscle in her body. Those memories still had the power to make her feel bad about herself.
Andi walked her bike to an empty picnic table in the turnout and pulled her tablet out of her backpack. A few minutes later, she had a new document with to-do lists side by side on her screen, each with items under the headings Before and After, in reference to the move. It took no time at all to create a couple of long lists.
Done with her lists for the time being, Andi texted Miles, telling him she’d found a place. She added, Details later, want to surprise Brooke.
And what a fun surprise it was.
And mysterious, she thought, as she got on her bike and began pedaling back to the parking lot. But if Drifting Dreamer was a classic design and had been built in a well-known boatyard, there would have to be some record of her somewhere. A boat registry? Or boatyard records? It couldn’t hurt to do a little online research.
* * *
IT WAS LATE that night before Zeke had a chance to do even a quick search. And it was a fluke that a notice in a Duluth newspaper led to the first mention of the boat that was bobbing in the breeze at his dock. It seemed that someone named Charles Peterson had thrown a launch party in September of 1939 for Drifting Dreamer. He must not have had much time to use it that late in the year, not up in Lake Superior.
Zeke’s first thought was how many Charles Petersons probably lived in Minnesota in the 1930s.
“Well, we have one clue, Teddy,” Zeke said to the dog snoozing at his feet. “Are you impressed?” The dog opened one eye. Zeke laughed. He bet Andi would find this news quite intriguing. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.
He sat back in the chair, staring at the man in the photo standing on the dock next to his boat. Now, almost eighty years later, a woman he didn’t know was moving onto a boat he’d never heard of forty-eight hours ago. It made him wonder what would happen next.
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