The Last To Know - What I Did While We Dated

by Bridy McAvoy

  “Sorry to startle you.”

  “That’s okay.”

  “You’re Paul Stewart’s girl, right?”

  I swallowed hard. It was obvious this guy had known my dad, and I found it difficult to talk to people who’d known either him or my mother, or both. Given he was here and knew my dad, I was pretty sure he’d never met my mother. After a moment I nodded.

  “I was so sorry to hear what happened to your parents. I was at the funeral, but I guess you were a bit too…well…bound up to notice everyone. It’s nice to see you back on your feet out of that wheelchair. It’s Samantha, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m Max, Max Fisher. I own the boatyard a mile or so up the shoreline here.”

  “Oh, right. Nice to meet you, Mr. Fisher.”

  “Call me Max, please. No formality around me, please.”

  I walked over to the door and offered him my hand. He shook it warmly, didn’t try and go macho on me like he did with you. His hand, though, was enormous, dwarfing mine.

  “Likewise, I guess.” My raised eyebrow must have signaled a question to him, letting him know I had no idea why he was there.

  “It’s not a social call, Miss Stewart.”

  “Please call me Samantha, Max.”

  “I came to find out what you might want me to do with your boat?”

  “My boat?” I guess my mouth dropped open in shock, and he chuckled. “I didn’t know I had a boat.”

  “Sure do. Inherited it from your dad along with this place, I guess. You honestly didn’t know?”

  I shook my head again, something I was doing a lot of. Then, remembering my manners, I invited him in for a coffee, which he accepted.

  Over coffee I found out he’d had an arrangement with my dad for him to look after the boat. Then, when he was coming down to the condo, he’d ring Max and Max or one of his sons would deliver the boat to the dock. Max and his family kept the engine serviced and running, and at the same time kept the fuel tank topped up and made sure the hull was sound. They kept it in good working order.

  Obviously he charged for the service, and since dad had died well over a year ago, he hadn’t been paid for that length of time.

  I asked him straight, without preamble. “How much?”

  “It’s about thirty a week, less in the winter, more in the summer, and a ten dollar tip to either Max Junior or Steve every time they brought the boat around.”

  At the time both had still been in High School, but not the one I’d been at. Good money for a half-hour to an hour of work.

  “I take it you haven’t been paid since…”

  He nodded. “Don’t worry about the bill, I’m sure we can work something out.”

  “You mean like, sell the boat?”

  He shrugged. “Or something.”

  “What, rent it out?”

  He shrugged and I finally realized his eyes were on my legs as we talked. I’d worn a mini-skirt, one of my tight little black ones, and there was a lot of leg showing. I felt a frisson of excitement run through my system. Surely a guy like this wouldn’t be interested in a young thing like me? Then I remembered how Mr. Bryant and Roger Winscott had looked at me, before doing rather more than looking. Mr. Bryant was older than Max, while Roger was about the same age. My mouth went dry, but I pushed the idea out of my mind.

  “Not much call for boat rental around here, so you wouldn’t make enough to cover the costs. The insurance would be steep for a single boat like that.”

  “Ah, right. So how much is it worth?”

  “Well, an eighteen-foot Swift marine hull is about four thou new. The outboard would set you back another two, add a thou to rig the boat and test everything, and you’re looking at seven for a brand new boat.”

  He paused. I could see he was thinking hard.

  “I guess, for a boat four years old, but very low mileage like this one, maybe four total, if you were lucky. Say three-and-a-quarter, three-and-a-half.”

  I sat and thought to myself. I couldn’t believe my father would pay out over a grand a year to house a three grand boat. It didn’t make sense, not for the few times he’d use it each year.

  We both finished our coffee, and I took the mugs away as Max stood up. Once more he towered over me—he must have had at least six or seven inches on me. I guess I felt his masculine presence in the room—pheromones, I suppose—and I could tell he was attracted to me. My body was responding to the animal attraction, but my head was telling me to steer clear.

  “Listen, why don’t you come down to the yard later and take a look at it. I’ll get it in the water for you, and we can take it for a trip across the lake to see what you think?”

  I was thinking hard, and the idea was attractive, but I wanted to sort out a few things in my mind first, including the true value of the boat as he’d described it. At that point I had internet at home but not at the condo.

  “I’m sorry, I have things to do today.”

  “Of course.”

  “Are you open tomorrow?”

  He smiled. “Yeah, our busy time is weekends. It tends to be slower on Mondays and Tuesdays.”

  “Well, how about tomorrow, then—say, ten o’clock?”

  “That will be great. We’re along the loop road from here. Turn left as you leave this car-park—you won’t miss us.”

  “Great, see you then.”

  We shook hands again and he left. I finished the cleaning, and packed the groceries to take home. I didn’t have a date that night, so wouldn’t be coming back to the condo until the next weekend—if then. Then it was back to the house again.

  By that time, I’d decided to keep the condo after all. I’d initially been thinking about selling it, but it made a nice place to divorce my two realities from each other. The house saw the staid librarian, and could become a family home. The condo was my little getaway, my hidey-hole, my love-nest if you like, where I could take the guys who I had no intention of marrying. Now I had the chance of a boat to go along with it.

  I guess the lawyers on the read-through of my father’s will had covered the boat. I’d learned about the condo, but must have tuned out for the section about the boat. I couldn’t blame them—I’d still been in shock and convalescing from my own injuries.

  Once I was home it was time to get online and do some research. It made interesting reading and, by the end of an hour, I was pretty sure Max was trying to pull a fast one. There were several eighteen-footer Swift models on the market, and the value of the cheapest one was about a grand more than he said. The top of the range one was well over fourteen grand new and, unlike cars, boats seemed to hold their value better. The second-hand sites were full of low mileage boats with price tags not that far below the list price, even when four to five years old. This was especially true of lake boats. I guess the lack of salt corrosion compared to the ocean boats was the reason. I checked that out as well.

  Another hour and I had four pages of notes. Those I distilled down to a list, typed it up and printed it, then stowed it in my purse. Max might think he was dealing with a little girl, but I was now far better informed. Indeed, I felt pleased with myself, and had a couple of glasses of wine with my dinner before turning in early.

  * * * *

  I was up nice and early the following morning. I took particular care over my appearance, deciding on shorts rather than a skirt, and a lumberjack check cotton shirt over a T-shirt. My feet went into sneakers—no heels—and I pulled my hair back into a pony-tail, just like I did for work. Makeup was understated and, although my legs were bare, I felt covered up enough to deal with a lecherous man who had tried to stiff me for a lot of money.

  I drove down to the boatyard. Max had been right—it was easy to find, even though I was coming from town rather than straight along the lake shore. I parked in front of the small block-built structure they used as an office and knocked on the door. Nobody answered. I spotted a buzzer so pressed that and, about a minute later, a tall gangly lad wandered ar
ound the corner of the building. He was dressed in his working clothes, dirty overalls, and was wiping his hand on the ubiquitous oily rag.

  “Can I help you?”

  “I’m looking for Max.”

  He looked me up and down, spending considerable interest in my legs. I wished I’d worn jeans rather than tight denim shorts, but it was too late for that.

  “You’ve found him, baby.”

  I just looked at him and he grinned.

  “Sorry, I guess you mean my dad, and you’d be…?”

  “Samantha Stewart.”

  “Oh, right. He’s expecting you. Listen, sorry to hear about your parents last year. That was a bad deal. Glad you’re okay though.”

  I think he meant better than okay and I could feel the heat building in my cheeks as he continued to stare at me, concentrating on my legs. I wasn’t getting uncomfortable—after all, this guy was about my age. In fact, I later found out he was twenty, the same age as me. His brother Steve was about eighteen months younger.

  “Look, follow me through here. Dad’s just got the boat in the water. It’s a lovely little thing.”

  “Oh, which model is it? Your dad never said.”

  He grinned, I guess happy to be on safe ground as he talked to me. “It’s a beauty. A Swift 18SC, with the 35hp Yamaha with the overdrive as standard. Teak decking, fabulous.”

  I started to walk toward him, then turned around to grab my purse from the car. “Hang on a sec, just got to check my cell.”

  “No worries.”

  I kept my back to him and bent through the open window of the car to grab my purse. I wasn’t checking my cell, I fished the list of boats from inside my purse and scanned down for the prices of the configuration he’d told me. As I had expected, the boat was worth at least three times what Max had told me. It had to have cost Dad over thirteen thousand new. Worth, say, nine, nine and a half now.

  Locking the car up, I walked over to Max Junior and smiled up into his face. He was as tall as his father but, by comparison, gangly. He looked like a basketball player, but not quite tall enough to make the grade. By comparison, Max Senior looked like a linebacker. Steve, I later found out, took after his mother—shorter, more compact, but still well-muscled. All three were attractive in their own right.

  “This way. Let me lead, it can be a bit of a maze through here. Watch your step and mind your head. Some of these boats you’ll have to duck under.”

  “Okay.” I followed him down to the triple dock at the lake edge of the yard. I didn’t have to duck at all, but he did, several times.

  “Dad!”

  I almost jumped when Max Junior called out. His voice was loud, way loud!

  A head appeared from inside a boat tied up to the middle dock, and Max waved to his son.

  “You go on down, that’s your boat.”

  “Wow, it does look nice.”

  “As I said, a little beauty. If you decided to sell it, I’d love to buy it.”

  “Would you?”

  He shook his head. “I’d love to but I can’t afford it. He may be my dad, and it may be a family business, but he don’t pay shit.”

  I chuckled and went to shake his hand. He pulled his hand away at the last minute and showed me how dirty he was. “Wouldn’t want to transfer such muck to you. Nice to meet you, and I hope to see you again.” He walked off whistling some tune. It took me a moment to place it, then blushed at the memory it triggered. I guess he was paying me a compliment but that song had a rather different meaning to me after my experience three weeks earlier with Mr. Bryant.

  I walked down to the dock and Max jumped out of the boat to meet me. He shook my hand and draped an arm protectively around my shoulders as he turned to show me my boat. I fell in love with it at that moment. All thoughts of challenging him about his under-valuation fled my mind. He could see I was enraptured by it and he chuckled.

  “I knew you’d like it. I guess your father fell in love with it at the boat show he ordered her from.”

  “She?”

  “All boats are female.”

  “Ah.”

  He let go of me, stepping down into the well in front of the seat, and held out his hand. I stepped into the boat to join him.

  “You want to take her out?”

  “Do I ever!”

  “You ever run one of these before? Any kind of motor-boat?”

  “Nope.”

  “Easy to learn, but you do need lessons.”

  “Okay, license?”

  “Nah, not in this State, just as long as your driver’s license is valid. I’ll take her out, and then we’ll swap over on open water and let you loose.”

  “Fine.”

  He put two fingers in his mouth and whistled piercingly. A head popped up from a boat moored to the other side of the dock.

  “Cast us off, Steve.”

  “Just a sec.”

  Steve hopped from the boat he’d been working on and undid the stern rope, then the middle one, and finally the front rope. All the time his eyes were on me, just as much as his brother’s had been. As I said, he was different from both of them, just as the two Max’s were different from each other.

  Max pressed the self-starter and the motor fired first time, and Max eased us past the boat in front of us and then out into open water. Even though we were moving slowly, it felt fabulous as I sat there with a gentle breeze on my face.

  “You have to remember the lake has a speed limit. Only eight miles an hour, no more. The rangers do patrol, and it’s a hundred dollar fine if you exceed it. If you’re over ten, it’ll go to court, and the penalty there is steep. I’ve seen a guy pick up fifteen hundred dollars and a night in a cell for doing twelve. So be careful.”

  “Okay.”

  He tapped the speedo. “You can see there’s a red line taped to it, so keep under that.”

  Once clear of the dock, Max pointed the boat toward the far shore and opened it a bit further. The boat tilted up a little and the engine roar increased. We could still talk, but we had to raise our voices a little. He placed one arm along the back of the seat—incidentally, behind my shoulders—and gripped the wheel with his other hand to keep it straight.

  It was exhilarating. The lake surface was a little choppy and the boat bounced from wave to wave with a slight grinding motion that felt fantastic. The vibration from the motor was transmitted through the seat straight to my butt. All of a sudden I knew why my father had the boat. A quick trip up the lake and back with his latest squeeze and she’d be hot to trot. Every single time.

  “You want to take over?”

  I repeated my earlier words. “Do I ever!”

  “We do this the safe way. You squeeze past me.”

  I wasn’t bothered—I just wanted to get my hands on that wheel, be in control. Remember how I hated riding as a passenger after the accident? I’d still rather drive—at that point it was still a real fear for me. It wasn’t so bad in the boat, but the fear was still there.

  He half stood, and slid toward me. I stood upright, grabbing the top edge of the windshield, and slid along toward the wheel. We were obviously destined to pass somewhere around the centerline of the boat.

  All the while he kept hold of the wheel with one hand to keep the boat steady—or so I thought. Just as we reached the mid-point, he jerked the wheel down and the boat jolted. I heard him swear under his breath, then the boat heeled slightly over and I was thrown back to land in his lap. His arm curled around me, ostensibly to steady me, but I knew better. He’d made the boat jerk like that to pitch me very conveniently into his lap. He was a player all right, no doubt about that.

  “Sorry.”

  I looked back and up into his face, which was very close to me. I could feel his muscular thighs through his jeans under my bare legs. I wasn’t exactly sitting ladylike—I had one leg between his, and one still outside his legs, forcing me to spread my thighs apart to sit there.

  “I thought my father was a friend.”

  “
He was.”

  “So you’re making a pass at his daughter?”

  “Am I?”

  “Yes, I saw you with the wheel.”

  I didn’t move though, and remained on his lap. To be honest, I was enjoying the fact there was another older man who found me attractive.

  “Busted!”

  “Correct.”

  “Sorry.”

  “What would your wife think?”

  I watched a flicker of pain cross his face, and realized I’d possibly put my foot in it. His next words confirmed that.

  “She died, five years ago. Cancer.”

  “Oh, shit. I’m sorry.”

  He squeezed me tight then let go, putting both hands on my waist and lifting me down to the seat behind the wheel.

  He shrugged. “We both lost someone. It was a while ago. You had no way of knowing.”

  “I’m still sorry.”

  “Don’t be.”

  He brushed his thumb across my chin then nodded toward the wheel. “I suggest you grab hold of that and take control before we hit anything.”

  By then we were more or less in the middle of the lake, I guess not that far from where we are now, and there was nothing within half a mile for us to hit. He was sitting closer to me, his leg pressed against mine, his arm around my shoulder holding me tight against him.

  For the next thirty minutes he gave me rudimentary instructions on how to work the boat, gradually taking us around in a circle so we were approaching the dock again. I knew Sunday was a busy day for him, so I couldn’t monopolize his time. Nor could he monopolize mine, even if he did want to get into my panties.

  I didn’t raise the subject of selling the boat, nor what I thought it was worth. Steve tied us to the dock, and Max handed me up to him to help me out of the boat. His hand brushed against the back of my thigh and my ass as he pushed me up but I ignored it. I begged a week to think about what I wanted to do and arranged to see him the next week, again on the Sunday, to sort everything out.

  Steve walked me back to my car and said goodbye. He was quieter than either his father or his brother—I guess the sensitive one of the family—and I headed back home. I’d made up my mind I was going to keep the boat, but I decided not to tell them that yet. That would wait until the next Sunday. I didn’t expect things to go the way they did, though.