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Michelle stared at the beautiful blue sky. “I say it’s boating time. Nothing like a spin on the water to get the mental juices flowing again, especially on a day like this.”
“We don’t have time—” King stopped and his expression turned softer. “Okay, after nearly being killed twice, maybe a little break wouldn’t be so bad.”
“I knew you’d see my logic. Sea-Doos or jet boat?”
“Jet boat. I’m getting tired of you always wanting to race on the Sea-Doos.”
“That’s just because I always beat you.”
CHAPTER
79
KING WAS AT THE WHEEL,
and Michelle sat next to him in the twenty-foot Bombardier jet boat as they cruised along at thirty knots over the lake’s calm surface. The summer season was still a ways off, so they had the water pretty much to themselves.
“How much of Cardinal Lake have you seen?” asked King.
“A lot. I don’t let the grass grow under my feet.”
King went on in a pedantic tone. “You know, this lake was formed by damming up two rivers and letting the water back up over ten years. The end result was a very deep thirty-mile-long lake with excellent fishing, water sports and about two hundred coves and inlets.”
“Wow, you sound just like the real estate agent who sold me my place. Do you also refinance mortgages?”
They headed toward the hydroelectric dam, which was really two dams, an upper and a lower one. Then they hit the main channel and turned west. Where the two rivers came together, King headed north until they came to a smaller channel that doglegged north and then east. They kept this heading, passing the even-numbered red channel markers that ran upriver, until he pulled back on the throttle and steered straight into a small uninhabited cove. A few minutes later they’d anchored down in about twenty feet of clear water, and King pulled out a basket of food and a cooler with sodas and water he’d put together.
“I’m going to swim before we eat,” said Michelle.
“How’s your arm?”
“Will you stop with the arm? It was only a nick to begin with.”
“Why do I think if you took a thirty-thirty round through your chest, you’d only ask for a Band-Aid, and a small one at that?”
She stripped down to her one-piece swimsuit and dove in.
“God, the water’s great,” she said after coming back up.
King eyed his instrument panel. “Water temp’s seventy-five, still a little cool for me. I’m an eighty-one, eighty-two kind of guy.”
“You mean you’re a wimp.”
“That’s another way of putting it, yes.”
After they’d had their lunch, King pulled up the anchor and they started off again. Michelle pointed to a long, wide point up ahead. It was quite a sight: a six-slip boat dock with a gazebo, bar, dining area and equipment sheds and about six thousand square feet of decking, all encased in cedar siding and shake roofing. It just begged for an Architectural Digest spread.
“That’s pretty impressive. Who owns it?”
“What, you lose your sense of direction on the water? That’s Casa Battle.”
“What! I didn’t even know they were on the lake.”
“You don’t put up a mansion in Wrightsburg without lakefront access. They have the whole point plus about twenty more acres. Their dock is a ways from the main house. In fact, you can’t even see the mansion from the lake. I think they designed it that way so there wouldn’t be gawkers coming by on boats all the time. They use golf carts to come and go.”
“What a life.” She squinted against the intense sunlight. “Who’s that out there on the sailboat?”
King grabbed his binoculars and zeroed in on the skipper of the other boat. “Savannah.” He pondered for a moment, then fingered the throttle forward and steered toward the sailboat.
