Going Overboard

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  But he wasn’t in tenth grade anymore, even though there were days he wished he were, days when he’d give anything to abandon the prestige and money in favor of freedom. It wasn’t an option.

  “Well, gang, here we are.” Andi parked the van next to the marina. “I’ll get the paperwork taken care of if you’ll load everything into those wheeled carts down by the dock.” Then she hopped out of the van, grabbed a folder of papers and started toward the registration office.

  Chance watched the hypnotizing motion of her bottom for about two seconds too long and Bowie caught him at it. “Well, what are we waiting for?” he asked briskly, ignoring Bowie’s grin as he stepped into the blast furnace of a Nevada summer day. The growl of outboard motors filled the air and the acrid scent of diesel fuel triggered memories of his uncle’s boat and lazy Wisconsin summers. Back then he’d been impatient to grow up, with no clue how precious those carefree days had been.

  “Nicole, you just relax your pregnant self,” Bowie said. “Chance and I, in an incredibly manly gesture, will load up those carts.”

  Nicole spread her arms wide. “Ah, vacation.”

  “Of course, we expect you women to do all the cooking,” Bowie added.

  Nicole laughed. “I’ll be willing to cook whatever you manly men catch, but you’d better not let Andi hear you talking like that. She’ll roast you on a spit over the campfire in no time.”

  Chance didn’t doubt that for a minute. In fact, at the wedding reception, prior to the fountain debacle, they’d spent their obligatory dance together as maid of honor and best man arguing about her decision to hire a stripper for Nicole’s party. Chance had initiated the argument on purpose once he realized how potently she affected him at close range. She’d obliged his need for conflict by taking the offensive and reminding him that men had hired strippers for bachelor parties for generations. She happened to know, she said, that there had been a stripper at Bowie’s party. Chance thought it was the better part of valor not to admit who’d hired her.

  “I’ll go get us a couple of those carts.” Chance headed for the dock, where people dressed in Day-Glo-bright bathing suits or T-shirts and tattered shorts moved leisurely around on rubber thongs. The water looked like heaven, and he had the urge to fling himself into it, suit pants, silk shirt, shoes and all. But that was more of an Andi Lombard thing to do, not a Chance Jefferson move.

  He restrained himself and grabbed two carts, which he started pushing toward the van. He also needed to put in a call to Annalise, his secretary, before leaving the marina, to impress upon her that she shouldn’t hesitate to call him in an emergency. He wished the Ping Golf representatives hadn’t been so irritated when he’d postponed a meeting with them until next week.

  He wondered again how his dad had been able to manage the birthday trips that had become such a tradition. Maybe he’d felt more relaxed because he’d built the business. Chance had the daunting task of keeping it going and making it even better.

  He wheeled the carts up to the back of the van, where Bowie stood.

  “Brings back memories, doesn’t it, bro?” Bowie said with a grin.

  “Yeah, it does.” He’d only seen Bowie this excited twice in the past year—on his wedding day and when he told Chance about the baby.

  Bowie heaved a sleeping bag into one of the carts. “I hope you’re not gonna tie yourself to that cell phone the whole week.”

  “I can’t just cut off communication with the office.” Chance lifted a full cooler out of the back.

  “Dad did.”

  “Well, I’m not Dad.”

  Bowie unloaded bags of groceries. “I hope to hell you’re not. Dead at fifty-six. That’s too young.”

  “He never got any exercise.” Chance put four fishing poles into the cart. By now his shirt was sticking to his back. Damn, but it was hot. “I go to the gym three times a week.”

  “Even that seems to be a job for you. Be honest, what do you do for fun?”

  Chance gave him a smile. “I go on houseboat trips with my brother.”

  “Ah.” Bowie stopped to wipe his sweaty forehead. “So, are we having fun yet?”

  “Well, boys, I just signed our life away,” Andi said, coming up with the folder of papers, swelled by a few extra documents, in one hand. “We’re now the temporary occupants of a ten-person houseboat sitting in slip number ten, A dock.”

  Chance blinked. “Did you say ten-person?”

  “Yeah,” Bowie put in. “Remember? I told you that the only thing available on short notice was a cancellation from a church party, and they’d rented the biggest boat they had, so we got it.”

  Chance figured he hadn’t been listening carefully when Bowie told him that, because the houseboat plans hadn’t been high on his list of priorities. “Just how big is a ten-person boat?” he asked.

  Andi thumbed through her papers. “I have the dimensions right here. Aha. Forty-seven by fourteen.”

  “Feet?” Chance asked.

  She looked at him with a deadpan expression. “No, inches. All four of us should fit nicely on a boogie board, don’t you think?”

  “Hey, so what if it’s a big boat?” Bowie said. “More room to party!”

  “What’s all the commotion about?” Nicole asked, climbing out of the van and coming around to the back.

  “Chance seems to think the boat’s too big,” Andi said.

  “No, he doesn’t,” Bowie said.

  “Yes, he does,” Chance said.

  “Look, as I told Bowie when we made the arrangements,” Andi said, “it was the same price as a smaller boat, because they had this last-minute cancellation, and they gave us a special deal. So if you’re worried that it’s costing us too much money—”

  “No, it’s not the money. That’s just a damn big boat.”

  “So?” Andi asked.

  “So it probably takes more than one motor to run it.”

  “Well, of course it does,” Andi said. “It has—” she paused to consult her papers “—twin screws, according to this. I guess that means two sets of propellers. When I signed up they heckled me about getting propeller insurance, but I said we didn’t need that because we had two experienced houseboat pilots in the party.”

  “One for each screw,” Bowie said with a grin.

  Chance scratched the back of his head and looked at Bowie. “Twin screws. Wasn’t Uncle Trevor’s a single screw?”

  “Twin screws, single screw, what difference does it make?” Bowie said. “A houseboat’s a houseboat. A motor’s a motor. One for you, one for me. Come on; let’s get under way.”

  Andi looked from Chance to Bowie and back to Chance again. “You two are beginning to sound a lot like Laurel and Hardy, and that makes me nervous. You do know what you’re doing, right? Neither of you crewed on the Exxon Valdez or anything?”

  “Very funny,” Bowie said.

  “’Cause I can always go back and get propeller insurance. They had an example of a pretty ugly shredding job on display, just so you can see what happens if either of you Jacques Cousteaus back that sucker into a pile of rocks.”

  “I’m sure that won’t happen,” Nicole said, “considering all the time they spent on their uncle’s houseboat.”

  “Exactly,” Bowie said. “Chance and I aren’t about to back this baby into the rocks, are we, bro? Propeller insurance. What a joke.”

  Chance longed for that insurance, but he didn’t want to argue with Bowie about it. “We’ll do fine. No worries.”

  Andi gazed at him. “So said the captain of the Titanic, I hear.”

  That finally got his back up. He wasn’t used to being questioned. “Trust me, we can handle this. Now, let’s stop standing around in the heat, and get aboard our bargain boat.”

  With Chance pushing one cart and Bowie the other, they started toward the dock. After a brief stop for ice at the general store, where Chance also put in a quick call to Annalise, they continued toward the mooring slip. Andi and Nicole walked ahead of them, showi
ng the way toward slip number ten.

  Chance lowered his voice as he leaned toward Bowie. “I take it Uncle Trevor let you run that boat of his?”

  “Are you kidding?”

  Chance looked at him in alarm. “You didn’t ever drive it?”

  “Hell, no,” Bowie murmured. “Uncle Trev thought I was a complete screwup and wouldn’t let me touch the controls, but I figure you have enough experience for both of us.”

  “And what makes you think I was allowed to operate that boat?”

  “Because you were always considered the responsible one, and I—” Bowie brought his cart to an abrupt stop. “Oh my God. He didn’t let you, either?”

  Chance shook his head.

  “Holy Houseboats, Batman. What do we do now?”

  “We stay cool.” Chance started pushing the cart down the dock and Bowie continued beside him. “We’ve both seen the ads for these vacations, and nobody mentions having to be experts at boating, right?”

  “Right.”

  “We haven’t operated a houseboat, but we’ve both driven motorboats.”

  “Yeah,” Bowie responded with a little less confidence. “A few times, anyway.”

  “And there’s got to be some sort of manual.”

  “And we can both read! Hey, I’m liking this plan. We’re smart. Or at least you’re smart. We’ll figure this out.”

  “I just wish we didn’t have such a big boat,” Chance said.

  “Maybe forty-seven by fourteen isn’t as big as you think. Maybe—”

  Andi spun around to face them and gestured dramatically toward her left. “Here we are! Home sweet home!”

  Bowie turned and gulped. “My God, it’s an aircraft carrier.”

  Speechless, Chance stared at the monster tied up to slip number ten. He’d seen ranch homes in the Chicago suburbs smaller than this.

  Andi and Nicole seemed as thrilled by the size of the boat as he was dismayed. They swung open the railing gate and hurried aboard, chattering happily about the spacious accommodations.

  “It’s spacious, all right,” Bowie said in a subdued voice. “I’ll bet the church group was gonna hold a revival in there.”

  “Hell, you could take this across the friggin’ Atlantic Ocean.”

  Bowie rubbed the back of his neck. “Here’s an idea. We just stay right here. People do that in Seattle, right? Smart people, those Seattlites, living on houseboats that are permanently tied up to the dock. Never worry about sailing anywhere, those folks. We could—”

  “Nope. We’re going to take this tub out of here, Bowie. Our manhood is at stake.”

  “Hey, you guys, get a move on,” Nicole called from the deck. “If you don’t hurry up, Andi’s liable to get sick of waiting around and start up those motors herself.”

  “We’re coming!” Chance and Bowie shouted together as they nearly collided in their effort to get aboard.

  3

  ANDI FELL IN LOVE with all the little nooks and crannies of the houseboat. As she and the others stowed their gear, she kept finding interesting cubbies for stashing stuff. She’d also discovered something else. Chance wasn’t as immune to her as she’d imagined. He probably hated the fact that he reacted to her, but react he did. A slight flush and a quicksilver gleam in his blue eyes gave away his X-rated thoughts about her. It could prove useful. She could teach him a lesson about all work and no play— and perhaps teach him to better appreciate his brother.

  At last the four of them gathered in the living-room area of the houseboat. Bowie and Nicole’s sleeping bags Jay in a back double bunk and Chance had chosen a foldout bed in the living room. Andi would sleep in the middle of the boat on the top bunk of a single set of bunks.

  Nicole dusted her hands together. “That’s it for the housekeeping chores. Anchors aweigh.”

  “You bet,” Bowie said, grabbing the thick operations manual from the shelf beside the captain’s chair.

  Chance took the book out of his brother’s hands before he’d even opened it. Frowning, he started flipping pages as Bowie peered over his shoulder.

  Andi watched the interaction with some impatience, although she had to admit that air of command could be attractive. Chance had rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt and his arms had a nice flex to the muscle as he turned the pages. A man as disciplined as Chance probably worked out on a regular basis. But how long had it been since he’d thrown a Frisbee or cannonballed into a swimming pool? Probably years.

  “So which one of you is taking us out?” she asked.

  “He is,” they said in unison, pointing to each other.

  “Oh, this is good,” Andi said, folding her arms.

  Bowie gestured toward Chance. “Just deferring to your age and experience, buddy.”

  Chance sent him a long look before walking into the pilothouse and slowly taking his seat at the controls. “Right.” He flexed his shoulders and studied the panel.

  “You’re both quite sure you can handle this?” Andi asked.

  They responded with a flurry of assurances that left her feeling not the least bit reassured.

  Chance ran his fingers over the buttons and stood up again. “I’m going aft to take a look at the motors and figure out the best trajectory when we back out.”

  “Good idea. I’ll go with you.” As Bowie followed Chance, he said over his shoulder “Aft means the rear of the ship.”

  “Thank you, Captain Ahab,” Andi called after him. She turned to Nicole, who was sitting on one of the bench seats. “What do you think, sis? Do they know what they’re doing?”

  “I’m not sure about Bowie, but I’m under the impression Chance always knows what he’s doing.”

  “He is pretty damn sure of himself. Does it bother you the way he discounts Bowie’s contributions?”

  “Drives me nuts. But from what I understand, their father treated Bowie the same way. I’m hoping that maybe on this trip…well, we’ll see.”

  “That’s assuming we ever get out on the lake.”

  “Oh, we will,” Nicole said. “You and I both know people who’ve taken houseboat trips with no boating experience at all. These guys at least have some idea of the process, and I’m sure we can manage it. Plus, I really need this break, Andi. I didn’t realize bearing the first Jefferson heir was going to be such a big deal.”

  “Is Mrs. Chauncey M. giving you a hard time?”

  Nicole gave her a weary smile. “You know those language tapes you’re supposed to play while the baby’s still in the womb, so the kid is born already programmed to be bilingual?”

  “She bought you some of those?”

  “No, she hired a French teacher to come over three times a week and talk to my belly.”

  “No!” Andi started to giggle. “What does Bowie think of this?”

  “He doesn’t know. It’s supposed to be a surprise for him.”

  “And when is this surprise going to be unveiled? When little whozit sails onto the delivery table shouting bonjour?”

  Nicole grinned. “I have no idea.”

  “What does this French person say to your belly?”

  “How should I know? I don’t speak French.”

  “Me, neither, but I gotta try this.” Still chuckling, she walked over and got down on her knees in front of Nicole. “Parlez-vous frangais?” she murmured, patting Nicole’s belly. “Hey, she kicked back! That must mean she understood me!”

  “Oh, I’m sure.”

  Andi searched her memory for French phrases. “Darling, je vous aime beaucoup. Let’s see—what else? Oh, that little cartoon skunk.” She leaned closer to Nicole’s belly. “Pepe le Peu.”

  “Oh, do go on,” Nicole said, laughing.

  “That’s all the French I know. No, wait. Food. French food.” Between giggles, she leaned forward again. “Filet mignon,” she crooned. “Pâté de foie gras. Croissants. Come on, Nic. You cook more than I do. Help me communicate with this kid.”

  Nicole laughed harder. “Coq au vin.”

 
“Coq au vin,” Andi repeated. She pushed her lips out in a Gallic pout. “Ch#226;teau…briand. Vichyssoise. Oui, oui, oui, all zee way home, my little radish.”

  Nicole laughed until tears ran down her face.

  “Will you look at that, Chance?” Bowie said, coming through the hallway. “We leave them for five minutes and all hell breaks loose. What’s up, Nic?”

  Nicole just shook her head, helpless with laughter.

  “It’s a surprise,” Andi said, getting to her feet. “But I’ll give you a hint. Start practicing ‘Frère Jacques’ in the shower.”

  Bowie stared at her before turning toward Chance. “You make any sense of this?”

  Chance stood gazing at Andi with a bemused expression on his face. He seemed totally absorbed by the playful scene he and Bowie had interrupted, absorbed by Andi, for that matter. Andi looked into his eyes and saw an emotion she hadn’t associated with him before— delight. She was encouraged.

  “Chance?” Bowie prompted.

  Chance snapped out of his reverie and broke eye contact with Andi. “Uh, sorry. What was that?”

  “Never mind. You ready to start the motors?” Bowie asked, exchanging a glance with Nicole.

  “Yeah, the motors.” He walked quickly to the captain’s chair and sat down. Then he consulted the control panel a few seconds more before he started flicking switches. Soon the boat hummed and throbbed as the twin engines chugged to life.

  Andi watched the mantle of responsibility settle on his shoulders again. Tension tightened his jaw and narrowed his eyes. The boy inside him had been banished, at least for the time being. Andi wondered if she’d be able to coax that boy out again during this trip…and if she dared get close enough to try.