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“Mr. Lowe,” said Lonnie, the yacht club attendant. “How can I help you?”
“I’m at my lakehouse and I wanted to know if I could take the boat out this morning, say at 11.”
“Why, of course, sir. I’ll haveThe Marieloaded at the dock for you. Would you like anything on board?”
“Champagne and sparkling water on ice, please.”
“Very good sir.”
When I got back to the house, I was delighted to see Lola sitting on the porch, wearing an old shirt of mine. She was drinking a cup of coffee, warming her hands with the steaming mug. I parked and got out, striding across the yard. Her flame-red tresses spilled over her shoulder and she looked up at me with a soft smile.
“Thought you’d run away in the night and left me,” she said, jokingly.
“What? You?” I said, bending down. I kissed her and caught the taste of toothpaste and coffee.
“Made you a cup, though,” said Lola softly. “Just in case you came back.”
“How thoughtful,” I said, accepting the cup and drinking.
“What do you want to do today?”
“How’d you fancy going sailing with me?”
“Sailing? On Lake Otisco?”
“Sure. Come on, it’s not far to drive.”
“Is it safe?”
“Of course it is,” I said.
When we got to the marina at the yachting club, they’d already preparedThe Mariefor me. When I’d bought this place, I’d bought a small schooner too, and I was fond of sailing. I’d done it on a school-trip once as a kid, and enjoying learning to tie the knots and fly the sails was about the only thing I’d really learned at school.
The boat had a light blue hull, and a sanded deck. We parked by the marina and stepped onto the jetty, and before long, I’d found her. I put a hand on the wood and felt the rough, sandy texture.
“Pretty, huh?” I said.
“It’s enormous!” said Lola.
“Well, you’d be surprised how much boat you need to feel comfortable.”
I leaped up on board, and offered my hand to Lola. With one swift motion, I hoisted her into the hull. I took off the gangplank and undid the mooring, before letting down a few sails and heading to the wheel. It took a bit of knowledge to keep the craft heading in the right direction, and I was pretty rusty. But soon we were sailing out onto the Lake, with the sun slowly rising up to the center of the sky.
Sailing was fun, but it was hard work too, exhausting me. I hardly had time to talk to Lola. So when I’d brought us out to the shimmering center of the water, I began to slow the boat down, turning it into the wind and feeling the sails’ resistance.
“This is amazing,” said Lola, stretching her arms out in the center of the boat. “Feels strange out here, huh?”
“Yeah,” I said, nodding as I leaned on the wheel of the ship, lasciviously watching her. My eyes stayed fixed on the slender flesh on her arms, her skin slowly bronzing in the sun, while I furled the sails in.
“Feels like I’m alone out here with you, in the middle of nowhere.”
“Well, you are,” I grinned.
“Not like that.” Lola sat up and looked at me over the brow of her sunglasses. “I mean that it feels as though New York doesn’t exist.”
“For me, it doesn’t anymore,” I said, staring at the water which stretched in all directions. Hills and green forest rose up above the shore. “I mean, my life in New York is over.”
“Over?” said Lola. Her face was concerned.
