Most of the boats rounded the beer can buoy and were on a good line back to the finish, but a few had troubles, likely beer or rum induced. and lost ground. Nancy and the girls had no such trouble and did a fairly solid job executing their tacks. She and Hot Rum were leading. Ellis was thirty meters behind, and Roger was still on his long tack to the west.
As the boats came hurtling back with a strong warm wind behind them from the south, Roger had tacked and sent Bucephalus screaming back from his outside line. Turk’s unfortunate decision to tack a moment later had allowed Roger to gain ground on Hot Rum and then on Nancy. She saw him coming, glowering from behind the wheel. She had one move left.
“We’re going to jibe! Lois, Ruthie!”
The women almost jumped when Nancy gave her order.
“Winch!” Lois said.
“On it!” Judy said.
Ruthie released her sheet as Lois madly cranked the sail over. The jibe appeared to take them out of contention for the win, and it confused the girls as they watched the other boats head for the finish line as the Gypsea headed out west.
“Gran, are you sure about this?”
“Trust me, kiddo.”
Ten seconds later, Nancy said, “We’re coming back about! Get ready to tack!”
“Again? So soon?” Judy said.
“Now!” Nancy ordered.
Lois grabbed her line and let go as Ruthie pulled the jib to her side.
“Tighter on that sheet!” Nancy yelled.
Judy handed her winch to Lois, and the sail tightened. They were headed back to the finish line at a crazy angle, but now they had the right of way, which meant no other boat could cut them off. The sails were taut, and they were flying over the water.
“We’re going eight knots!” Charlotte exclaimed as she looked at the knot meter.
“This oughta get us there,” Nancy said to herself as she gauged the wind.
Hot Rum was heading straight for the finish line and would cross in about a minute. Bucephalus was slightly ahead of Hot Rum and looked like the clear winner. But the Gypsea was gaining ground from a sharp starboard angle. If all things remained the same, Nancy would cross the finish line first, by a boat length.
With a hundred meters and thirty seconds to go, Nancy held her line and allowed herself a smile.
But then she saw the bow of the Bucephalus turn toward her and away from the finish line. It defied logic.
“Hell’s bells, he’s tacking,” Nancy said, alarm in her voice.
“Why is he turning? The finish line is that way,” Lois asked.
It was like playing a game of chicken on the water. And it went against the number one rule of safety. Roger knew Nancy would always play it safe. In fact, he counted on it. Given where they were in the water, the Gypsea technically had the right of way. But Roger’s gambit worked. Nancy flinched. She had no choice but to change her line or risk running directly into Roger. She turned the wheel to avoid a collision with Bucephalus, and her sails instantly fell slack. The Gypsea virtually stopped in the water.
“What happened? Why are we stopped?” Judy asked.
“It’s a safety issue,” Nancy grumbled as she glared at Roger.
“My ass,” Ruthie said as she caught Roger’s wicked smile. “He did that on purpose.”
Turning Bucephalus in the direction of Nancy had slowed both boats. Meanwhile, Turk and Hot Rum sailed happily over the finish line, winning the race in a cloud of cigar smoke and the sound of rum tumblers clinking in victory.
Nancy and Roger glided over the finish line in a disappointing second and third, respectively.
“Gran, what was that about?” Charlotte asked.
“The first rule in boating is always safety. Always,” Nancy said earnestly. “And it’s not like we get a trophy for the beer can races anyway. We did well.”
But Lois plainly translated the events. “Roger would rather lose than let us win.”
“That can’t be true,” Charlotte said, surprised. “Gran?”
Nancy just kept staring out at the sea, not wanting to confirm her granddaughter’s suspicions about the absurd behavior of her grandfather.
The girls sat in the cockpit, dejected. They let out a collective sigh. The rookies had come so close to a tantalizing victory in their first race, only to have it ripped away in such an underhanded fashion. Nancy glanced over at Hot Rum just in time to see Turk, cigar clamped between his jaws, beat on his chest like Tarzan at the helm of his boat, while his cheerful crew downed chalices of grog. He saluted Nancy and gave her the peace signs on both hands, which was sailor shorthand for victory cocktails back at the yacht club. Nancy smiled and gave him a thumbs-up. Nancy looked over at Bucephalus and saw Mac and Tony grimace when she gave them a halfhearted salute. They knew what they had done under Roger’s orders. Roger’s back was turned when Mac and Tony gave her a sad wave in return.
The warm breeze that had kept them on a sure course during the race died down just as they limped back to their slip.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
VICTORY COCKTAILS
Swagger. That’s what the winner of the beer can races got upon entering the yacht club. And that’s just what Turk and his veteran crew had that Tuesday evening. He was greeted with many congratulatory pats on the back and raised drinks, and he loved every minute of it. It was one of the rare moments when Turk’s cranky demeanor melted away and threatened to expose the kind, happy man underneath. Winning looked good on him. Everyone tried to buy him a drink, but in true Turk fashion, he ended up picking up the entire bar tab that evening.
Nancy and the girls took up residence at a table by the floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over the channel. Charlotte sipped her lemonade and watched the sea lions hanging out on the docks, warming themselves with the last rays of sunshine. The rest of the ladies were on their first bottle of wine, knee-deep in a group sulk. Roger, Mac, and Tony had yet to arrive. Turk was busy celebrating when Peter Ellis came over and squeezed Ruthie’s shoulder.
“Shame about tonight, girls. I think you could have won it.”
“Thanks, Pete,” Nancy said.
“Thanks, babe,” Ruthie said as she touched his hand.
“We were robbed,” Lois piped up. Judy and Charlotte nodded in agreement.
“You’ll get ’em next time.” Then Peter looked at Ruthie and said, “If you need some extra support after your loss, might I offer up my excellent listening services?”
Ruthie smiled at him. “Your listening services are legendary. Meet at your boat in a half hour?”
Pete winked. “Can’t wait.” Then he walked over to the bar to hang with his crew.
“Gross.” Charlotte rolled her eyes.
“Hey kid, trust me, when you get to my age and someone offers up ‘listening services,’ you take them up on it.”
“Well, we should hit it soon. Otis and Suzanne are still on the boat and likely plotting their escape.”
Just as Nancy was getting up from her chair, Roger walked up to their table, his chest puffed out. He let out a deep and posturing sigh. “Tough loss out there today.”
No one said anything for a long moment. Finally, Nancy looked up at him with a lava-hot glare that would have melted a less ironclad soul: “Rotten luck, I guess.”
Roger’s mouth grew into a thin line. “Well, it takes knowing the right line.”
“It sure as hell does,” Lois said. “And we had it.”
“All evidence to the contrary,” Roger said coolly. “But I’m sure you’ll eke out a win one of these days. Count yourselves proud of your second-place finish, hens,” he said and then as he turned to go back toward the bar, a small, strong voice piped up.
“We’re not hens.” Charlotte stood up. “We’re Mermaids.”
Nancy, Lois, Ruthie, and Judy all sat there, stunned at her strength, but also because it was the first time their name had been said in public.
Roger looked puzzled. “The what?”
“And we’re going
to beat you next time, Grandpa Rog,” Charlotte said, her chin jutting out rebelliously.
“I see your grandmother has been serving as a poor role model,” Roger said, irked by his granddaughter’s audacity. Then he chuckled slowly. “I look forward to it, Charlotte. The old hens, er, mermaids, renew my vigor. By the way, does your mom know you’re here?”
Charlotte sat back down quickly, suddenly nervous, and didn’t say a word.
“Of course she does,” Nancy answered for her. Then she looked at Charlotte. “Right? Your mom knows you’re here?”
Charlotte turned a shade of red and said, “I forgot to leave her a note.”
“Oh god.” Nancy immediately got out her phone and texted Stella. “Just so you don’t worry, Charlotte was sailing with me tonight. She forgot to leave a note. All is well.”
After a few moments, Stella texted back. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.
Nancy looked back at Roger who was near the bar now. She stood up. “What makes you think we can’t beat you, Roger? I mean, if we’re being honest, I did most of the sailing on the Bucephalus. You merely barked orders and took the credit.”
Snickers and murmurs came from the rest of the crowd as they quieted.
“Orders that you blatantly ignored most of the time!” Roger snapped.
“Which resulted in winning most of those races!” Nancy came right back.
Roger stood there, twirling the straw in his drink. Nancy could almost feel the heat radiating from his fuming face. Finally, he brushed off her comment. “Fine, fine. You won us a bunch of beer can races. You realize those aren’t real races. Not even close. It takes a true sailor, a leader, to win the big races.” He dismissed her with a wave.
Lois got up out of her seat with her fists clenched, ready to punch Roger in the throat, but Judy held her back. Ruthie stopped chewing on the cherry from her old-fashioned and glared at him. Charlotte joined in the glaring.
Given the fact that everyone knew Roger and Nancy were having marital issues due to Roger’s naked boat charades with Claire Sanford, they all listened intently to the increasingly hostile exchange at the table. Nancy became aware of all of the faces looking in their direction. Her face grew hot. Still, she stood her ground.
Nancy leveled her gaze and said, “Roger, I’d be willing to bet serious money my crew could beat your crew in any race, any day, any time.”
Roger chuckled, “Do you have serious money anymore, Nance?”
Burn.
“Name the race,” Nancy challenged him.
Someone from the back of the room, who sounded suspiciously like Pete Ellis, piped up, “The Border Dash!”
A couple of hoots from across the room made Roger’s neck turn red. The Border Dash, the storied yacht race from Newport Harbor to Ensenada, Mexico, was his race.
Nancy raised her eyebrows and then gave a single nod, acknowledging the call. Your move, big guy.
“You wouldn’t stand a chance against Bucephalus in that pathetic bathtub of yours.”
“Her name is the Gypsea. And are you saying it’s on?”
Ruthie, Lois, and Judy hadn’t moved.
Roger stood still, like a snake before a strike. All eyes were on him when he finally let the words slither out of his mouth. “It is on, you silly woman.”
“That’s mermaid to you,” Nancy shot back.
Roger growled, slammed his drink on the bar, and stalked out of the yacht club in a rage. He tried to slam the door behind him, but because it had been under repair, the door just swished back through. Very unsatisfying.
Once Roger was gone and the coast was clear, a roar of applause started up.
Nancy let out her breath, unaware that she had been holding it, and nearly fell over. Everyone was looking at her and their table. Turk, who was leaning up against the bar, came over and offered a toast. “It’s about time someone knocked that old turkey off his roost. Seems rather poetic that it would be you. To the crew of the Gypsea!”
“To the Gypsea!” The entire room raised their glasses to Nancy and the girls. Then, led by Turk, they added, “To the Mermaids!”
Ruthie let out a laugh, and Judy and Lois grimaced. Charlotte shrunk from the attention but still managed to raise her glass. Nancy stood up. “Thank you all. We’ll do our best.”
And just like that, the Gypsea and her crew were slated to enter the Newport to Ensenada Border Dash. Nancy appeared calm, but inside, panic barreled through her like a tsunami.
That was the bluff of all bluffs. My god, what have I done?
When she took the last sip of her Chardonnay, it went down like battery acid.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
OLD GRIEVANCES LAID BARE
Fifteen minutes later, flush with nervous but excited energy, Nancy and Charlotte were walking to the dock just as Stella was pulling up in her SUV. There was a quiet understanding between Nancy and Charlotte that they were “in trouble” with “Mom.” Stella had likely been hysterical thinking Charlotte had been abducted by a serial killer, or more likely, smoking weed somewhere with her aimless friends. Nancy assured Charlotte it would be okay once she got a chance to explain everything. But judging by the way Stella slammed the car door and marched down the gangplank to meet them, the hope of a smooth apology suddenly vanished like sea mist at sunrise.
“Get in the car,” Stella snarled to Charlotte.
“But I’ve got my bike,” Charlotte weakly protested.
“It’s locked; leave it. You can get it another time.”
Charlotte obeyed and headed to the car. She looked back at her Gran, looking like someone being led to the gallows.
Once Charlotte was safely ensconced in the glass and steel of Stella’s BMW, Stella let loose on her mother.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Mom?”
“Stella, calm down. We went sailing. It was the beer can—”
Stella cut in. “Do you have any idea how irresponsible this was?”
“Look, I know she forgot to tell you, and I can imagine your worry, but everything is fine. We had a great day.”
“No, Mom, everything is not ‘fine.’ She completely missed her study group!”
Stella stood there, facing off against Nancy.
“Didn’t she just get out of school? It’s the start of summer.”
Stella shook her head, disgusted. “Why would I expect you to know any of this? She’s in an advanced-placement study group that helps with college admissions.”
“She’s fourteen. Does she really have to start thinking about college?”
“Only if she wants to have a future,” Stella said, with biting sarcasm.
Nancy relented. She didn’t like seeing her daughter so upset, but she had the feeling this wasn’t just about taking Charlotte sailing or the study group.
“Okay, okay, I’ll make sure Charlotte only goes with us when she doesn’t have important stuff going on.”
“Mom, you’re not getting it,” Stella said, frustrated, and then she blurted out, “I don’t want her sailing with you at all.”
Nancy was taken aback. “Why?”
Stella stammered on, still in the grips of anger. “She should be making connections and hanging out with the right crowd!”
It was Nancy’s turn at sarcasm. “Right, I can see your concern. The inherent dangers of hanging out with her grandmother. And since when do kids make ‘connections’ instead of friends? I was just trying to introduce her to something new, to conquer a fear. It seemed to make her happy.”
“Yeah, well, happy is all fine and good, but it’s not going to get her into Stanford.”
“Is that what’s important to you? Because I’m pretty sure it’s not important to her, not yet. Which is fine, because she is fourteen! And I don’t see your Ivy League education increasing your happiness to any great degree. Life is about more than money, Stella.”
“Oh, I know that, Mom. It’s about achievement, and I want Charlotte to have opportunities.”
�
�And you don’t think sailing is a good life skill to open up ‘opportunities’?”
“Stop!” Stella shook her head, almost turning red with frustration. “I want her to have role models that actually do something with their lives, Mom. I don’t want my daughter thinking it’s okay to not have any goals other than ‘being happy.’ ” Stella used air quotes.
A pit opened up in Nancy’s stomach.
“What are you saying?”
“You never had the guts to go out and do anything on your own, Mom. What can you teach Charlotte about the real world? You’ve never lived in it. You never had to pay rent or get a job. Do you even have a dream to do anything? Forgive me if I want more for my daughter. I was too young when I had her. Just like you were too young when you had me. It’s ironic that the one thing I have in common with you is the one thing I regret. And let’s not forget that you literally walked out on Dad—I’m not sure that’s the best thing for Charlotte to see either!”
It stung, hard and long, like a blinding slap to her face. So, there it was. This is what her daughter thought of her. All the love and work of raising her daughter amounted to her believing that Nancy was a silly old woman who never had the courage to do anything on her own. Her own daughter had rendered Nancy and her path in life meaningless. She could tell that Stella knew she had breached a boundary that she couldn’t cross back over.
“I see,” Nancy said quietly.
Stella stood there defiantly, so much like her father, ready to take on whatever else came out of Nancy’s mouth. But Nancy saw her chin quiver. A sign that even Stella might not feel as strongly as she sounded. The damage, however, was done. Nancy’s shoulders sagged and she looked at her daughter. Maybe Stella was right. Maybe Nancy had very little to offer her bright, promising young granddaughter. Nancy gave Stella a weak smile and said, “Well, I have to go take care of Suzanne. She’s hungry. You two should get going.”
Beware the Mermaids Page 18