This is a good fish, Jonathan thought. His hands trembled and he felt sweat dripping down his nose, even in the cool of the coming night.
“You need some help over there?” his friend yelled.
“I don’t need you comin’ over here and breakin’ this fish off, if that’s what you mean,” Jonathan answered with a laugh.
He could feel the fish slowly giving in. It was circling now out in front of him just below the surface. It made a couple of last drastic attempts to pull away, but Jonathan was prepared for this and patiently reined the fish back in. It was close now, beginning to roll on its side in exhaustion. It had enough energy left to splash its tail weakly on the surface as Jonathan reeled it in within reach.
He could see the fish clearly now, its silvery sides gleaming in the clear water and the bright shock of red down its side. The trout came alongside him and he reached down and eased his hand under its belly. He lifted gently and the fish abandoned hope and sagged in his hand. He felt the satisfying weight and looked down into the eye of the fish. Its mouth opened and closed slowly.
What a beautiful fish. He held it up for his friend to see across on the other side of the creek mouth. George whistled in admiration. He took a last look at the fish and reached behind and slipped it into a large pocket on the back of his vest. It felt heavy there and he could feel the fish squirm a few times in its new captivity. Then, it was still.
On the way home that night on the dark lake, Jonathan thought of the fish and the evening he had spent with his friend. It had been a good night, unless you were a fish.
Chapter Five
It was a typical Saturday morning for Sally as she walked to work down Bridge Street, stopping in for coffee at her friend Ingrid’s coffee shop. She had seen a few friends and chatted briefly. Mostly, the shop and the rest of the town were full of visitors in for the Venetian Festival. She had come down through the crowds of people on the sidewalk to her gallery at the end of the street. Her partner, Gwen Roberts, had already arrived and opened for business. A few people were milling around inside looking at the work she had on display. She nodded to Gwen with a smile and then went back into her studio and office.
There were a few phone messages from the previous day and a stack of mail that looked much too daunting this early in the morning. She sipped her coffee and looked through the messages. Sensing movement behind her, she turned and saw that Alex Clark was standing in the doorway.
“Good morning Sally, didn’t mean to startle you.”
“No…no, good morning.”
Alex walked into the office. “May I?” he said, pointing to a chair next to her desk.
“Sure, would you like some coffee, or…”
He held up a cup from Ingrid’s coffee shop.
“I see you’ve found the best coffee in town,” Sally said. “Did you meet my friend, Ingrid?”
“She was so busy I don’t think she has time to meet anyone this morning,” he said with a smile, taking a sip from his coffee. “You have a wonderful gallery here. I was just looking at some of the work. I assume that the S. Thomason signed on some of the paintings would be you?”
Sally took a deep breath and smiled, “Why yes, it is. What do you think?”
“I think they’re incredible.”
“Well, thank you. That’s very nice of you. Which is your favorite?”
“The scene of Round Lake and the sailboats moored is wonderful. Have you done any with the EmmaLee?”
“No, I’ve never painted the EmmaLee. I have terrific old photos from my mother, but I just haven’t gotten around to it. Actually, I was thinking of it yesterday and was able to take some great photos for more reference as you were bringing her into town.”
Alex looked directly at her for a few moments, seeming to take in what she had told him. Sally returned his gaze, a little uncomfortable looking him straight in the eye. She noticed for the first time that his eyes were a deep green color. He was dressed in worn jeans, a plain white golf shirt and boat deck shoes that had obviously been worn for more than a few seasons.
He nodded slowly and said, “Would you have the time to paint her this summer?”
“The EmmaLee?”
“Yes, there is a perfect space at the head of the table in the ship’s dining cabin. Your work would look absolutely terrific there.”
“I have two other commissions I’m trying to finish,” she said, “but I’m sure I can make time.”
“Well, take all the time that you need,” Alex said.
“Do you have any thoughts on how you’d like to see the ship, in what setting?” she asked.
Alex thought for a moment. “I’m fascinated with the period when she was first here, back in the 30’s and 40’s. I understand she had her own boathouse around on the south side of the harbor. I would love to see you recreate that time and place.”
“Let me give it some thought and perhaps do a few sketches before we decide. Would that be okay?” she asked.
Alex stood up. “That would be great. Whenever you have time. I really don’t want to impose on you.”
“I’ll let you know as soon as I can,” she promised.
Alex took another quick sip from his coffee. “I was taking a walking tour around the town when I happened to notice your shop. Again, I hate to impose, but do you have some time this morning to join me and show some of the sites only the locals know?”
Sally hesitated for a moment. She hated to leave Gwen alone on such a busy morning, but then justified to herself that a short walk couldn’t hurt.
“Sure, I can get away for a bit,” she said. “Is there anything in particular you would like to see?”
“You decide,” Alex said. “Are you sure it’s not a bother?”
“No, not at all. Let me check in with Gwen out front and then we can go.”
She was surprised how comfortable she felt with Alex Clark. Having heard a lot about him before his visit from George Hansen, she wasn’t sure exactly what she had expected, probably a computer geek with an attitude. She hadn’t been ready for how normal he seemed, in spite of his wealth and success. She usually wasn’t all that comfortable talking with men she didn’t know particularly well, but for some reason she had felt at ease with Alex from their first meeting yesterday. Maybe it was their common connection to the EmmaLee.
She introduced him to Gwen on the way out. “Alex, this is my partner, Gwen Roberts.”
“Hello, Alex. It’s very nice to meet you,” Gwen said, shaking his hand. “I love your boat!”
“Good morning and thank you,” he said. “Would you mind if I borrowed Sally for a quick tour of your town?”
“No, of course not,” Gwen answered. “Enjoy this beautiful morning.”
Sally gave Gwen a quick hug and then led Alex out of the store and turned left up the main street of town. Out across the street the city park spread out before them with a wide green lawn that sloped down to the boat docks. They could see the EmmaLee tied up at the far end. They made their way through the crowds with Sally pointing out some of the shops and restaurants along the way. It was another warm summer morning with just a little breeze.
Sally took him on a wide circle through town, up Park Street showing him some of the older homes along the channel and talking about some of their history. They turned south on State Street and walked slowly by the old Congregational Church and the Harsha House, explaining that it now held the Historical Society. She encouraged him to come back in the afternoon when they were open to see their file on the EmmaLee, explaining that it held a lot of old photos and information about the ship.
They headed back down along Bridge Street and she turned them east down Belvedere along the south shore of Round Lake. She wanted to show him her grandparents’ old home. They walked slowly down the quiet street. The large hardwood trees had grown full and shaded the sidewalk and old homes. They came to a corner with a large grass lawn.
“This is where the Belvedere Hotel stood for many years,” s
he said. “It was really quite grand back in its day. You’ll have to see some of the pictures I have of my family here. And that’s the Casino down on the beach. They still use it for meetings and receptions. I’m told there used to be some lively parties there back in my mother’s day.”
She turned and looked at him. “I hope I’m not boring you.”
“Absolutely not,” Alex said. This is a wonderful little town and the history just makes it that much more interesting.”
“I’d like to show you my grandparent’s house. My uncles sold it years ago after my mother died.”
“Lead the way. I’d love to see it.”
They walked back up the sidewalk toward town and a few blocks down, turned on a street going up a steep hill. They turned right at the next corner and she stopped in front of a big white Victorian house.
“They lived here for many years in the summer,” Sally explained. “My mother, Emily Compton, grew up here and loved the place. I can remember coming over to visit my grandparents when I was a little girl and how big this house seemed to me then. I guess it still is pretty big,” she said, looking over at him.
Alex was taking in the scene. “You’ve painted this home, haven’t you? I saw it down at the gallery.”
“Yes, it’s one of my favorite pieces.”
“You’ve really captured it beautifully.”
Sally looked at her watch. “I really need to get back to give Gwen some help. Would you mind if we headed back?”
“No, not at all. Thank you for taking so much of your time this morning.”
Alex walked with her back to town and to the door of the gallery. “I’d like to take you up on that offer to look through your family’s photo albums. Let me know when a good time would be.”
“Of course,” she said, but before she could fully answer, he broke in.
“I’ve also invited a number of people to join us tonight on the EmmaLee for the festival boat parade. Do you think you could join us?”
Sally thought for a moment. She had been invited to go with the Hansen’s on their sailboat tonight, but she was sure George would understand. “That sounds great. What time are you heading out?”
“Well, we’re planning to start around six with a little dinner onboard. It’s going to be very casual. I’m sure you’ll know most of the people. Maybe Gwen would like to come along as well. George can’t make it. He has a long history of sailing his own boat in the parade, I hear.”
“Yes, this is his favorite weekend of the year,” Sally said. “I’m sure you could see how excited he was yesterday when you got here.”
He reached out for her hand. “Six o’clock then?”
She took his hand and felt the firm warmth of it. “I’ll be there and thank you for the invitation. Maybe tomorrow, or Monday we can make some time to look through the old albums.”
“We can talk about it tonight and thank you again,” Alex said. “Remind me to show you the dining cabin where I’d like to hang your painting of the EmmaLee.”
“That sounds fine. I’ll look forward to it.” She watched him smile and then turn and walk away through the crowds.
At a little after three that afternoon, Sally was in the gallery talking with some customers when she heard a loud commotion coming through the front door. Looking over, she saw Mary Alice Gregory walking in with two other women. Mary Alice was making wild gestures with her arms trying to give emphasis to whatever point she was making with her friends. Her voice seemed to carry, even over the loud street noise, and as usual, she was dressed immaculately. She spotted Sally at the back of the gallery and headed that way. Her friends fanned out to look at some of the work displayed.
Sally excused herself for a moment from her customers. “Mary Alice, how are you today?”
“Oh Sally, I’m fine, but I’m in a bit of a rush and maybe you can help me. I’m going out on the EmmaLee with Alex tonight for the boat parade,” she said with obvious delight and thinly veiled malice.
Sally didn’t show any emotion, but inside she was struggling to keep calm. I have no reason to be jealous of this woman.
“What could I possibly do to help you,” Sally finally answered.
“I’m looking for a welcome gift for Alex and I’d like something he could keep on the boat. Do you have any ideas?”
Sally swallowed hard and gathered herself, “Don’t you think a nice bottle of wine would suffice?”
“Oh, come on, Sally. He probably has a wine cellar onboard with a thousand selections. I’d like a special piece he wouldn’t be able to find anywhere else.” Mary Alice noticed a collection of bronze sculptures of sailboats against the far wall. “Who are these by?” she asked, walking over to the work.
“I’ve just brought them in,” Sally said, walking along behind. “A young artist from Petoskey. Her name is Williams.”
Mary Alice picked one up and examined it quickly. Without bothering to ask the price, she said, “This will be perfect. Can you wrap it?”
Sally reached for the piece. “Of course, I’m sure Mr. Clark will appreciate your thoughtfulness,” she said with a not-so-subtle tone of sarcasm.
Mary Alice didn’t seem to notice the comment. She was already walking to the counter, pulling a credit card from her purse.
When the transaction was completed and the wrapped package ready to go, Sally brought it out and set it on the counter. Mary Alice walked over to take her present.
“Well, it should be a beautiful evening for the parade,” she said. “Alex is having a little party for a few of us before the parade.”
“Oh, how nice,” Sally answered. She didn’t think it was worth the time to explain she would be there as well.
“Thank you, Sally,” Mary Alice said. “I can always count on you when I’m in a pinch.” She gathered up her friends and headed out into the street.
Sally stood watching, shaking her head in disbelief. This should be quite an evening.
There was a small band playing on the rear deck when Sally and Gwen arrived at the EmmaLee that evening. The little gathering Mary Alice had alluded to looked more like half the town onboard. Sally smiled, thinking how disappointed Ms. Gregory would be in having to share Alex with such a huge crowd. They came up on deck and were greeted immediately by waiters with glasses of wine and trays of food. They both took drinks and walked through the milling crowd toward the rear of the ship. Sally knew most of the guests and stopped to say hello several times along the way.
She and Gwen found some room along the rail, looking out over Round Lake and the dozens of large sailboats and motor yachts that were assembling for the parade. All of the boats were decorated with lights and banners. The parade would start just after dark and the illuminated boats always presented a spectacular scene sailing out through the channel into Lake Charlevoix, then back again. Fireworks would accompany their journey and light up the sky as well.
Sally looked over the crowd seeing who else was in attendance.
Gwen touched her arm. “How does a guy throw together a bash like this with such short notice? And he’s already had the boat decorated with what looks like ten million lights.”
“It’s amazing what you can do when you have a few extra zeros at the end of your bank statement,” Sally said with a grin. She hadn’t seen Alex, or Mary Alice. She tried to tell herself she really wasn’t interested anyway.
“So how was your little walk around town with the man of the hour?” Gwen asked, taking a long sip from her wine.
“I don’t think I bored him, too much,” Sally answered. “He seems genuinely interested in the town and the people. I’m sure he travels a lot, but I think the charms of sleepy little Charlevoix may have gotten to him.”
“Or maybe the charms of Mary Alice Gregory,” said Gwen, gesturing to the arrival of the woman coming toward them hanging on Alex Clark’s arm. “She is a slick little package, isn’t she?”
“I’m not sure if slick does her total justice, Gwen,” Sally said. “Well-oiled migh
t be more appropriate.”
They both laughed and saluted each other in a mock toast with their glasses. They watched the couple walk across the deck to the other side of the boat, stopping to talk to a small group of people. A waiter came by again and they traded their glasses for refills.
Although the wine was helping to dull the irritation Sally was trying to suppress, she couldn’t help thinking about her suspicions of Mary Alice with her ex-husband. The ache from that relationship had never really left her, not so much because she still had feelings for the man, but because she had been so blindly trusting, then betrayed. She suddenly thought how unexpected it had been for Alex to invite Gwen along this evening. She wondered if he had heard about their relationship.
About two years after her divorce was final, she had met Gwen Roberts one morning when she had walked into the gallery. Gwen was in town from New York and staying with some friends out on the lake for a week. She was very impressed with Sally’s paintings and explained she worked at a gallery back in Manhattan. They spent the morning sharing stories of the business and finally decided to have lunch.
Sally remembered the bond she felt with Gwen Roberts that first day. They saw each other again later in the week for drinks and stayed in touch over the next several months. Gwen had invited her to come out to New York for a visit. They had a wonderful time in the city. A year later, Gwen came back to Charlevoix in June and never left. They became lovers later that summer and Sally found a new sense of fulfillment and trust with her. Gwen had moved into her house that fall and they had been together for the past ten years. She had been surprised by her feelings for a woman. It had never happened to her in the past, but it had felt so natural and comfortable from the outset. There had been a few difficult times when Gwen grew frustrated with the small town and being away from the city, but they had settled in fairly well over the past few years.
She reached out now and took her hand. There was no secret about their relationship, but they tried to be discreet, primarily so others wouldn’t be uncomfortable around them. Gwen was several years younger than Sally, just past forty and she was as tall as Sally, but more athletic and rail thin from regular morning runs. Her brown hair was cut at shoulder length and hung straight. Her eyes were a soft hazel and Sally found herself looking deeply into them. What a blessing, she thought, that she had found someone who returned her love so honestly.
The Seasons of the EmmaLee: One grand ship. Two love affairs, decades apart. An idyllic summer resort town torn apart by betrayal, murder and shattered dreams. (The Charlevoix Summer Series Book 1) Page 5
