Acquiring a wife couldn’t be any different from acquiring a company. He just had to concentrate on finding a loophole, while spending every available minute showing Willa he really did love her.
Chapter Thirteen
Sam stood at the bow as Willa guided the engine-powered RoseWind through a maze of moored boats. He was supposed to be securing the sails, but after getting his thumb eaten by a winch for the third time in three days, he’d had enough. What could she do to him, anyway? Fire him? Throw him overboard? Starve him to death?
He’d already taken an unexpected swim yesterday when a rogue wave had washed him over the rail, getting dragged by his safety harness for nearly two miles before Willa had gotten the boat stopped. As for starving—he’d awakened this morning to find it hadn’t been a thick, juicy steak he’d been gnawing on in his dreams but his pillow.
He wished she would fire him.
“Why does the sign on the harbor master’s office say Prime Point and not Keelstone Cove?” he asked.
“Because this is Prime Point. That storm is right on our tail, and I want the RoseWind on a mooring and battened down before it hits. We’d be cutting it too close to continue on to Keelstone. Check the front latches after you fix those ropes,” she said, apparently hoping to hang on to her authority a while longer.
Not a chance. Sam’s only focus right now was to set foot on a nonmoving surface, stuff himself until he couldn’t breathe, then lay his head on a pillow that wasn’t swaying. She owned the RoseWind; she could damn well batten down her own hatches. His conscription had ended the moment they’d gotten within swimming distance of land.
“So, how are we getting to Keelstone Cove from here?”
“We’re not getting anywhere. I radioed a friend who lives in town, and he’s giving me a ride home,” she said, scowling when he didn’t move. “A bus heading south goes through here every morning. Maybe you could stow away on it.”
Sam turned to hide his smile. When he’d come up on deck that morning, Willa was in a bad mood, and it had gone downhill from there. He wished he’d known that telling a woman he loved her was such a turn-off; it would have saved him countless Dear Jane dinners.
He could see the main pier was crowded with trucks, along with a small army of people hurrying to off-load their day’s catch. The harbor was busier than Times Square at rush hour, and fishing boats zoomed within inches of each other. Willa blithely guided the RoseWind through the turmoil, and Sam scrambled to brace himself when a boat laden with lobster traps suddenly veered straight toward them.
“Willa Kent!” the man at the helm called out as he approached, causing Willa to idle to a halt. The fisherman reversed his own engine, gently inching his boat alongside the RoseWind with amazing precision. “I went to your factory to buy a box for Gramps yesterday, but they told me you were in New York City. You gonna be back at work this afternoon? Funeral’s day after tomorrow.”
Sam’s jaw dropped. This guy had stopped them in the middle of the harbor to buy a casket? He was pushing sixty; how the hell old was his grandfather?
“I’m sorry to hear Gramps died, Cyrus,” Willa said, walking to the rail. “I’m going to miss his outrageous stories.”
“Now, don’t you go feeling sorry for him, girlie. Gramps went to bed every night since Grandma died praying he wouldn’t wake up in the morning. He was smiling when we found him.”
Willa glanced out to sea, then back at the fisherman. “Give me a couple of hours, and I’ll meet you at my factory. We’ll find him a really nice casket.”
The fisherman crossed his heavily muscled arms over his barrel chest. “At a forty-percent discount, I reckon. Better yet, you got any seconds? Gramps wouldn’t mind a few dings and scratches, if’n the deal was sweet enough.”
Sam sat down on the forward doghouse. Now he was haggling over the price?
“I give a thirty-percent discount to locals,” Willa said, breaking into her first smile of the day. She leaned over the rail and dropped her voice. “But I have a beautiful rock maple casket I can sell you at half-price. It was a special order, but the client’s family decided to cremate him, so they never took it. I think Gramps would be right proud to be resting in Maine maple.”
“Sixty percent off. If’n it was a special order, you’re stuck with it. I’d be doing you a favor to get it off your factory floor.”
Willa stepped back to the wheel of the RoseWind. “Half-price, Cyrus, and it’s cash and carry.”
He scowled, obviously not liking being outtraded. “I’ll be there at six sharp. You ferrying this Sengatti to Emmett for repairs?” he asked, suddenly as congenial as before the negotiations. “I seen him waiting over at the public pier.”
“No, the RoseWind belongs to me,” she said, pushing on the throttle as she waved good-bye to the gaping fisherman. “See you at six, Cyrus. And bring your brothers. Rock maple is heavy,” she finished, darting the RoseWind between two lobster boats leaving the main pier. “That mainsail is not going to tuck itself into that boot,” she told Sam.
“It’s going to have to,” he said, staying put. “You’re not paying me enough to move.”
“You ate your weight in food, Sinclair.”
“And I’ve still lost twenty pounds.” He stood up when he spotted a lobster shack next to the pier. He tossed over the bumper, then grabbed the front line, which he handed to the waiting man as Willa inched the RoseWind against the dock. Before she had even shut off the engine, Sam scrambled over the rail, stepped onto the pier, and fell flat on his face.
“Whoa there,” the man said with a laugh, helping him to his feet. “It’ll take you a while to get back your land legs. How’d she run, Willa?” he asked, dismissing Sam by handing him back the rope and walking toward the stern. “Could you feel the difference in that hull design?”
“She practically sailed herself.”
Sam didn’t hear the rest of Willa’s response, because he was already—very carefully, so he wouldn’t fall again—making his way toward the lobster shack.
“Wait up, Sam.” The man, who had to be in his late seventies, was loping toward him. “Where are you going?”
“As far away from Captain Bligh as I can get.”
The man chuckled, then held out his hand. “Emmett Sengatti. I’m sorry for your loss. Bram was a hell of a man.”
Sam shook his hand, surprised by the powerful grip—until he remembered that Emmett Sengatti used to hand-build boats for a living. “Yes, he was. Thank you.”
“You’re not going to help Willa secure the RoseWind before the storm hits?”
Sam glanced down the pier to see her tucking the mainsail into its storm boot. “Trust me, she has everything under control.”
Emmett shook his head, though Sam noticed a distinct glint come into the older man’s eyes. “If I was trying to persuade a girl to marry me, I sure as hell wouldn’t be abandoning her when there’s work to be done.”
Sam stiffened. “What makes you think I’m trying to get her to marry me? For that matter, how the hell do you even know who I am?”
“Bram spent many evenings at my place these last six weeks,” Emmett said without taking offense. “Our little chats usually centered on you three boys, and you look exactly like your picture. As for the marrying part, Spencer is holding money from both Bram and me—and your showing up with Willa just made me a thousand bucks poorer.”
He lowered his voice. “Bram said you might be the one to recognize what a gem Willamina is, but he also thought Ben might go after her, since Bram knew he’s more interested in Tidewater than you are. I was guessing Jesse.”
“You two bet on which one of us would marry her?”
“No, we bet on which one of you would try.” Emmett glanced over his shoulder. “I tried my damndest to talk Bram out of writing that will, but he was convinced his plan would work.” He crossed his arms over his chest with a smile. “Though you have me to thank for his leaving in that loophole.”
“There’s a loopho
le?” Sam said in surprise.
“Big enough to sail a cargo ship through.”
“What is it?”
“If I have to tell you, I reckon you don’t deserve to marry anyone—especially Willa.”
Sam seriously thought about shoving the man off the pier.
“The way I see it,” Emmett said, “you’ve got three choices. You can hold that bequest over Willa’s head and make her marry you, you can find the loophole and then pursue Willa because you really want her, or you can walk away from the entire mess. Like you’re doing right now, leaving her to batten down the RoseWind all by herself.”
Emmett eyed Sam speculatively. “Walking away might appear to be the easiest thing in the world, but it’s been my experience that guilt is a hell of an anchor to drag around the rest of your life. But then, Willa would know more about that sort of thing.”
Everything suddenly clicked into place. “Bram came to Maine because of you. But why? He rarely ever mentioned your name, except when he was buying the RoseWind.”
“If you didn’t want anyone to find you, would you hide in your usual haunts? I met Abram nearly fifty years ago, when he was attending Maine Maritime Academy over in Castine. We’ve always kept in touch.” He shrugged. “When your grandfather needed a place to run off to, he called me.”
“That makes sense, I suppose. But how does Willa figure into all of this? Why was Bram renting from her instead of staying with you? And what’s your relationship to Willa? Did you introduce my grandfather to her?”
Emmett shook his head. “Two ornery old men living together is the quickest way to end a friendship. Bram found Willa all on his own, when he saw her For Rent sign out by the road. As for Willa and me, I’ve had the privilege of watching her grow up. When she wasn’t dogging her daddy’s heels, she was at my boatyard dogging mine. She’s the child I always wished I’d had.”
“You a member of the marriage posse?”
Emmett chuckled and shook his head. “No. And I’ve told Willa to tell those nosy busybodies to go straight to—”
“I need a mooring, Emmett!” Willa called out.
Both men turned, and Sam saw his dry sack and Willa’s gear, including her mangled suitcase, sitting on the pier. She was coiling the ropes he’d made a mess of earlier.
“My color is still the same blue it’s been for the last twenty-nine years,” Emmett called back to her.
Sam looked out at the harbor and saw at least a dozen empty mooring balls in several different shades of blue.
With a pointed glower at Sam, Willa released the RoseWind’s dock lines and idled out into the harbor.
Emmett looked back at Sam and grinned. “You must have really pissed her off. What’d you do, make a pass?” His smile widened. “No wonder you’ve got bruises.”
Sam sighed. “I told her I loved her.”
“And do you?”
“Yes.”
Emmett nodded. “That’s a start. Do you know what you’re up against?”
“I believe it mostly has to do with her niece.”
“You’re in for a treat when you meet Jennifer. We could all take a few lessons from that girl.” He turned serious. “Willa especially.”
“And you think forcing Willa to marry and have children is magically going to fix her?”
“Nope. But there was no persuading Bram otherwise. He said if it was you who fell for Willa, then the two of you could fix each other.”
“Fix each—I’m not broken.”
“No?” Emmett’s eyes glinted again. “You don’t have abandonment issues when it comes to women?”
“What in hell are you talking about?”
“You don’t dump your girlfriends within a few months, before they can dump you first?”
Sam spun on his heel and headed for the lobster shack.
Emmett fell into step beside him. “I’m sorely relieved to realize you don’t blame your mother for abandoning you boys to travel with your dad on his business trips.”
“I have no idea what you and my grandfather talked about these last six weeks,” Sam ground out, “but I do know it’s none of your goddamn business.”
“It became my business when Bram decided to involve Willa.”
“Willamina Kent is a grown woman. She doesn’t need any more interfering bastards messing up her life.”
“Just you?”
Sam took a calming breath. “Stay out of my way, old man. There’s more at stake here than you know.”
“Barry Cobb checked into the Stone’s Throw Bed and Breakfast two days ago,” Emmett said with equal calmness.
Sam dropped his head with a quiet expletive.
“We can be allies, or we can be adversaries,” Emmett continued. “It’s your choice, Sam. I love Willamina like a daughter, and I’ve been the only thing standing between her and outright chaos since her parents died. If you truly do love her, you have my blessing. But if you hurt her, you won’t be safe hiding on the moon. Abram Sinclair didn’t have fools for friends, so don’t underestimate me, and don’t disappoint me. And together, we just might be able to turn this mess into a miracle.”
Sam stared out at the harbor in silence, watching Willa rowing a small dinghy back toward the pier, the RoseWind gently bobbing on a mooring the exact same color as her eyes. He looked over at Emmett, silently studied him for several seconds, then turned and walked away.
Emmett watched the oldest Sinclair grandson stride off and smiled. Bram, you old bastard, I don’t know whether to curse you or thank you for dragging me into your cockamamie scheme. But it sure is damn invigorating squaring off against a man half my age.
“The ungrateful wretch,” Willa said, coming up behind him.
Emmett turned as she dropped her gear at her feet, a scowl on her face that would turn back a shark. “I pulled him out of the ocean—twice!—and he abandons me at the first whiff of food.”
“Twice?”
“The idiot jumped out of a helicopter, then pretended he was drowning so I’d fish him out of the sea. And when he got swept overboard yesterday, I had to fish him out again.” She broke into a nasty smile. “After I dragged him a good quarter-mile.” Then she sobered. “Please, Em, tell me you didn’t have anything to do with Abram’s will.”
Emmett pulled her into his embrace and rocked her back and forth. “Oh, Willy Wild Child, you know me better than that.”
She hugged him fiercely. “How come you didn’t warn me?”
He leaned away without releasing her. “I was caught between a rock and a hard place, Willy. I owed Bram one hell of a favor, and I gave him my word. But just because I couldn’t dissuade him from writing that will doesn’t mean I think it’s all bad. Everyone needs the barnacles scraped off them once in a while.”
“But what am I going to do, Em?”
He hugged her again. “I’ve been thinking about that ever since you called and told me you were sailing the RoseWind home.” He tightened his grip. “I believe the wisest thing for you to do, at least for now, is nothing.”
“Nothing?”
Emmett hid his amusement. “You’ve got three whole months. Why not sit back and see how this plays out? If it hasn’t solved itself by then, then we’ll use the loophole and end this farce.”
“There’s a loophole?”
“There’s never been a contract written that didn’t have a back door to sneak out of.” He gave her a reassuring smile. “Sam seems like a bright boy; he’ll figure it out. Just give him some time, Willy.”
“I am not sitting around waiting for Samuel Sinclair to rescue me.”
“You’re not the only injured party here, Willy. Abram blindsided his grandsons, too. You can let Warren Cobb have Tidewater and still walk away a very wealthy woman, but those boys will have lost everything.”
“They’re young and capable; they can go out and build their own empires.”
Emmett sighed and stepped back. “I know you’re angry at everyone named Sinclair right now, but you’d never be ab
le to live with yourself if Cobb destroyed Tidewater International. You’re going to have to play this game to the end.” He gave her a crooked grin. “Why not consider it an adventure? It’s not every day a woman has a wealthy, handsome man chasing after her.”
She picked up her bags, and heading down the pier. “Let’s go. It’s starting to rain.”
“What about Sam’s gear?”
“The seagulls can have it, for all I care.”
“Did you make a pass at him, Willy?” Emmett narrowed his eyes at her. “You did, didn’t you?” He pointed at her. “I know how your wild child takes over when you’re feeling the salt wind on your face. You’ve gotten your panties in a twist, little girl, because he up and turned you down, didn’t he?”
She continued down the pier, stalking past Sam sitting at a picnic table, stuffing a lobster roll into his mouth. Emmett picked up Sam’s bag and sauntered after her. Willa stopped a truck leaving the fishing pier, spoke to the driver, then climbed in on the passenger side. Emmett dropped the dry sack beside the picnic table, stepped up to the window, and ordered a lobster roll for himself.
“I thought Willa called you to take her home?” Sam said around a mouthful of lobster.
“She’s got her shorts in a twist right now.”
Sam snorted.
Emmett took his plate from the vendor and sat down. “You open to a bit of advice, Sam?”
The younger man gave a grunt as he chewed.
Emmett took a bite of his own roll, watching the solid sheet of rain sweep into the harbor as heavy drops began drumming on the canopy over their heads.
“Willa would have been on the Cat’s Tail with her parents when it went down off St. Maarten eight years ago,” he said softly. “But she’d married David Sommers that year, and it was the first time she didn’t make the trip south with them.” He looked over at Sam, who had stopped eating. “It’s my guess Willa believes that if she’d been with them when that squall hit, they’d still be alive.”
Sam said nothing.
“She was two months pregnant at the time. She miscarried about a week after we got the news,” Emmett shrugged. “I don’t know if it would have happened anyway or if the pain of losing her parents caused it. I just know we very nearly lost Willa with the baby.” He looked back at Sam. “Willamina is the strongest person I’ve ever known, but even tempered steel has its breaking point.”
The Man Must Marry Page 14
