By The Sea, Book Three: Laura by Antoinette Stockenberg Page A

Amanda's husband and a friendly Brit with
graying hair, signaled to his son, who was a few years older than
Neil and looked as at ease in the launch as Neil did in his dory.
The boy used the launch to give the schooner a gentle if slightly
undignified nudge in her behind, and the Virginia began to
move.
    With a bit more pushing and pulling by them,
she was soon secured in her new berth, with her snoring crew
belowdecks none the wiser.
    "Well done," said Geoff to all. "Right then,
James; let's get that boat out of the water before she sinks to the
bottom."
    Durant dropped back below for the moment,
leaving Laura with the shipyard's co-owner, with whom she was
forming an instant bond.
    "My father is going to have a conniption
when he learns about this," Amanda confided to her. "He's had that
boat forever."
    "I know," Laura agreed. "Men can be so
irrational. They fall completely in love with the things—"
    "And call them 'she.'"
    "And hate to let anyone near them. My
husband is like that."
    "Colin? His attitude seemed a little more
businesslike than that to me," Amanda said candidly.
    "No, no, Mr. Durant's not my—"
    "Oh, I'm sorry," Amanda interrupted. "I
misunderstood."
    "Actually, my husband's sailing with Harold
Vanderbilt in the America's Cup races that are going on now—"
    "Really!"
    "And Mr. Durant—Colin—is filling in for him,
but as first mate."
    Amanda glanced at the deck where Durant had
last been and said only, "Ah."
    A perfectly innocent remark said in a
matter-of-fact way; so why did Laura feel suddenly guilty?
    Amanda said, "Look, the men can haul my
dad's boat out without our help. Let's have coffee in the office.
Even for a shipyard, this is an ungodly hour to be working."
    They made their way toward a long, low
building with Amanda peppering Laura with questions about living
aboard a coastal schooner. How did they manage without an engine?
How did they handle the paperwork? Where did they handle the
paperwork? What about school? Did Laura home-school? How did they
keep in touch with friends and relations? How did they manage
without a telephone or a mailbox? How did they vote? Where did they vote? You couldn't vote without a permanent address. How
did they get around without a car? Everyone needed a car.
    Laughing at the barrage, Laura finally threw
her hands up and said, "I don't know; we just manage!"
    The pot was done percolating. While Amanda
filled two mugs, Laura studied a photo that was obviously of Sir
Thomas Lipton with his arm around the shoulders of a young boy in
knickers. "Is that who I think it is?" she asked. His image was on
practically every box of tea in the shops.
    "Yep. Sir Tom himself. The boy is my nephew.
He's grown up now, with a child of his own." Amanda brought out
cream from a small fridge, and set a sugar bowl down. She took a
long sip and sighed. "I needed that."
    It soon became clear that she was as free
with information about her own life as she was curious about
Laura's. "Sometimes when the alarm jolts me at six a.m. I think, 'I
gave up the life of a Bohemian for this ?' No more getting
zozzled and then sleeping in; no more working when I felt like it, if I felt like it. And cigarettes! I still miss my butts.
But with a child on the way, all of that had to go. And then two
more arrived, and that pretty much sealed my fate—we have a nanny,
in case you're wondering if I've left them home alone. But anyway,
after I abandoned all of my delicious bad habits, it became only a
matter of time before I took on a regular job, much to the delight
of my father, damn it. I used to be a sculptor. Ask me when's the
last time I sculpted. There's a half-finished bronze in Shed 6
that's mostly gathering dust. I'll get back to it. Some day. Do I
sound as if I'm whining?" she finished up, finally pausing for
breath.
    Laura had been sizing up the cheery office
with its family photos, dog bed in the corner, highchair in another
corner and official-looking citations of excellence covering