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“Merry Christmas, my friend,” I said, shaking his hand after he and Calla embraced.
“Come with me.” He motioned for us to follow him to the docks on the opposite side of where I’d left the boat the night before.
“He seems pretty busy. Are you sure you want to do this now?” Calla whispered once we were outside.
“I’mcertain,” Alfred said over his shoulder, winking.
“Calla, this is Andrew,” I said when he met us near the boat’s bow. “Thanks for getting her ready.”
“Aye, ’twas a labor of love.”
“Andrew is Alfred’s son,” I explained in response to Calla’s raised brow, even though I knew that wasn’t what she was questioning.
“Fixing your gas line was a labor of love?” she whispered.
“That wasn’t exactly what they were doing.”
“Wait, what were—”
Before she could ask, people we’d seen in the restaurant and at the bar began filing down onto the docks. Two women stepped forward, each carrying a bottle of champagne—Veuve Clicquot, of course.
“For Poseidon,” the first one said, handing me her bottle.
“And for you.” The second woman winked and handed a bottle wrapped in mesh to Calla.
“What’s going on?” she whispered.
“You’ll see.”
Andrew let out a loud whistle, and the crowd went silent.
Alfred cleared his throat and unfurled a scroll. “Oh, mighty rulers of the winds, through whose power our frail vessels traverse the wild and faceless deep, we implore you to grant this worthy vessel the benefits and pleasures of your bounty.”
I opened the bottle I held and poured some into the two flutes Andrew held out to me.
While Alfred read on, I poured the rest of what was in the bottle in the sea, stopping to turn my body ninety degrees until I’d completed a full circle.
“Boreas, Zephyrus, Eurus, and Notus, exalted rulers of the winds, grant us permission to use your mighty powers in the pursuit of our lawful endeavors, ever sparing us the overwhelming scourge of your scalding breath.”
When he finished, I walked over to Calla. “When you christen a boat with a new name, tradition states you must first appease Poseidon and the gods of the wind. When I refinished her, Alfred asked me what I’d rename her. I knew the answer then, but I was afraid to say it out loud. Afraid you’d never love me the way I love you.” I kissed her and took the bottle from her hand. “Come with me.”
I led her to the boat’s transom and positioned her in front of me on the dock. Andrew was on board, and when my eyes met his and I nodded, he grabbed the tarp and lifted it.
I leaned forward and kissed the cheek of the woman whose name graced the stern.
“Time for the christening,” bellowed Alfred, raising a glass as the crowd cheered and raised the ones they held.
We walked to the bow. “Put your hands on mine,” I said, motioning to where I gripped the bottle.
“I christen thee ‘For the love of Calla.’” As the bottle smashed against the boat’s bow, I leaned into the woman next to me. “Merry Christmas, my love.”
EPILOGUE
SPIDER
“What have you decided?” I asked, plucking two glasses of champagne from the trays the staff at my parents’ New Year’s Eve party passed around.
“Why do I have to be the one to decide?”
