“Of course,” Kate assured him. “Atlas is fine.”
“I’ll just be gone fifteen minutes. Jonah will be back any minute. I hope.”
Emma sat up from the blanket. “Can I come?”
Before he responded, he glanced at Kate. Their eyes met, and he watched her process the same thing he was processing—this might be the opening they’d been waiting for. Kate gave him the smallest nod, so slight that Emma wouldn’t have caught it.
“Sure,” Eli said. “Let’s go.”
They walked across Gulf Shore Drive and down toward the harbor in the late-afternoon heat, which had eased just enough to be bearable. Emma wore shorts and a T-shirt and had her strawberry-blond hair pulled back.
She walked with no hurry, which was a change from the tight, self-contained way she’d been moving since she arrived. The conversation was easy, light, and comfortable, giving Eli hope that this might indeed be his chance to speak seriously.
He’d let it happen naturally, though.
Seamus Donahue was just outside the marina office, using a cutter on a large cardboard container, his sea-blue eyes crinkling when he greeted them with his ever-present smile.
“Eli Lawson,” he said in his warm Alabama drawl. “And who’s this young lady?”
“This is Emma. Kate Wylie’s daughter.”
“That makes you Artie’s granddaughter,” he said, making her whole face light up.
“I am,” she replied. “And don’t tell my brother, but I was totally his favorite.”
Seamus cracked up at that. “Sounds like something my friend would say. Taking a ride on Tessa’s boat this afternoon?”
“We’re just checking on the bilge pump after last night’s downpour,” Eli said.
“Good call,” Seamus said, looking toward the slip. “You know where she is. Slip fifteen. Go on down.”
They walked the dock, the boards warm under their feet, boats rocking gently. The harbor was calm, the water reflecting the blue sky.
TheGood Time Girlsat in her slip looking clean and well-kept, white hull gleaming. Eli stepped aboard and offered Emma a hand. She took it and hopped down with the easy balance of a girl who’d spent a summer as a lifeguard.
“This is such a great boat,” Emma said, looking around the deck. “Is it true Aunt Tessa got it as payment from one of her event planning clients?”
“Hundred percent.”
She cracked up. “I love that woman.”
Eli opened the engine compartment hatch and crouched down to inspect it. Everything looked fine—the pump was cycling properly and the bilge was dry. He ran it manually fora minute just to be sure, checked the battery connections, and closed it up.
When he straightened, Emma was sitting at the helm, her hands resting lightly on the wheel. She wasn’t doing anything—just sitting there, looking out through the windshield at the harbor with an expression that was half daydream, half longing.
“You ever driven a boat?” he asked.
She looked at him quickly. “No. Been on small ones with my grandfather, but I haven’t driven one.”
“Want to take her out? Just around the harbor. No-wake zone, nice and slow.”
Her eyes went wide. “Seriously? I left my license at the house.”
“You don’t need it,” he assured her. “C’mon. Let’s take her for a spin.”
The transformation was immediate. She went from quiet to pure excitement in about two seconds. Instantly, Eli got a look at the real Emma—light, bright, and alive.
He handled the lines and drove them out of the slip, navigating the tight space with ease. Once they were clear, he waved Emma to the helm.
