Page 7 of Stars Shine In Your Eyes

Her cheeks pinkened. “I have this habit of making up stories about the lives of strangers. In airports, at the grocery store, in a bookstore.”

“That’s got to have something to do with all the books you read,” he noted. “Does this mean you’re a writer too?”

She shook her head. “I write when I have to—mostly emails, the shorter the better. But I far prefer spending hours reading rather than writing. Or talking to my clients about books. We start with the reading list, and then we talk about what they’ve read and how it’s helped them, and maybe we pick a few more titles.”

He laughed. “I like short emails too. That’s the beautiful thing about my line of business. I can send one-sentence emails, and everyone assumes I’m too busy to write more.”

“Wow. What kind of business do you run?”

He paused, trying to explain in simple terms what he did. He’d never found a simple explanation for his work. “I find businesses that are ready to expand globally and put them together with money. The latest one’s a New Zealand–based business. They have a line of small-footprint, eco-friendly homes that come packed like flat-pack furniture. Easy enough for anyone with decent DIY skills to assemble. Then they bring in a plumber and electrician to finish off the home. It’s been phenomenally successful in Australia and New Zealand and begs to be a global brand. I’m talking to finance partners in Hong Kong and New York, putting together the money, then my firm will help take the products worldwide. That’s just one of many projects I have on the go. It’s exciting, and stressful, and I’m never bored.”

“Just busy all the time?”

“I suppose I am,” he said as he unlocked the door to the houseboat, then handed her the key. “Welcome home. Why don’t you go in and take a look around while I bring in your suitcases? I won’t need to go to the gym after lugging the one stuffed with books, that’s for sure.”

“Sorry,” she said again.

“No apologies necessary. It’s all part of my airport-pickup service,” he said with a grin that almost felt out of place on his face. It had been a long time since he’d felt like smiling.

The moment she walked inside, she gushed, “Oh my gosh, this is better than anything I could’ve imagined! It’s like an apartment inside. I wouldn’t have guessed. So charming and cozy.” She peered out one of the windows, clearly delighted. “Seeing the river right outside your window is extraordinary.” She turned back to him. “How do you ever bring yourself to leave?”

Looking at it through her eyes made Malcolm feel as though he was seeing his boat for the first time. He remembered when he’d bought it. He’d been in his early twenties, and the boat had been this close to ending up in a dump somewhere. He and his brothers and father and sisters—whoever was available—would come over and help him rebuild it. Both Malcom and his family had put their heart and soul into the River Star. Malcolm had hand-sourced all the tiles in the kitchen and bathroom and around the woodstove from eclectic sellers throughout London. Even the soft furnishings had been something he’d been very particular about, knowing exactly what the ambience of a riverboat should be. He’d found exactly what he wanted in Cornwall—deep blue fabric with small seashells printed on it. Seafaring, but comfortable too.

Those first few years, he’d lived on the boat full time. He’d go to flea markets and source pottery and glassware from local artisans. That was when he began thinking about helping small-business owners reach wider markets. Using his degree in business, he’d begun putting together franchises, helping business owners find financing and international markets. Now he helped business all over the world grow their markets. Over time, he’d become so successful that he’d barely found time to leave his office in central London. When he did, it had been too much of a slog to come back to the houseboat late at night. So he’d bought himself a place in Clerkenwell, in the business district of London, then upgraded several times over the years to bigger and grander places with even better views. His current penthouse had a view of St. Paul’s Cathedral with the Thames in the background. And he rarely, if ever, came back to his boat.

A tug of regret yanked at him. Regret that didn’t make any sense. He had everything. More money than Croesus. Everything he touched turned to gold. Even today’s deal would be one he’d surely pull together in the end. The business owner, the investors, and he would make a sizable profit. His business was great, and so was his personal life. He dated the most beautiful women in London and had some good friends. He had a great family.

And yet, the regret was still there. A sense that maybe the path he’d ended up on wasn’t exactly the right path for him after all.

Finally, he answered Josie’s question. “This boat was a labor of love. It was ready for the junkyard when I bought it, and I fixed it up with the help of my family. For several years, I did live on it full time, until the commute to my office got to be too much on a daily basis.”

“If it truly was ready for the junkyard when you got it, then you did an amazing job bringing it back to life. It feels so much bigger inside than I could have imagined.”

“You’re right that it’s one of the bigger ones, with two beds and two bathrooms. When I lived here full time, I liked having family and friends stay over. And there was always room on the couch. But, like I said earlier, the roof deck is where the boat really shines.”

“It’s a dream to get to stay here, Malcolm. Thank you so much. I know I’m going to love every single second of it.”

“You’re very welcome, although perhaps we should talk tomorrow after you’ve spent a night here, and see if you’re still as pleased. The hot water can be a little tricky sometimes, and if the jet lag doesn’t get you, the birds will have you up at the crack of dawn.”

“Waking up with birds will make it even better,” she said with a very happy grin.

It struck him that she was remarkably easygoing, especially after the terrible welcome he’d given her at the airport.

Malcolm had never dated an easygoing woman. Suddenly, he found himself wondering if he had been searching out the wrong kind of woman all along. His sister Alice certainly thought so—she’d hated every single one of his girlfriends over the years. He assumed that was because Alice had nothing in common with his posh, polished girlfriends, given that she spent 24/7 covered in dirt and mulch out in the garden. But now he wondered if she simply had a better girlfriend radar than he did.

Alice worked at Kew Gardens, her dream job. Still, like him, she was looking toward her next step. Everyone in the family knew that her ultimate dream was to manage her own large garden. Something similar to the extensive and amazing gardens at Sissinghurst in Kent.

It was a dream he’d love to help her with. He often joked that he’d happily give her the seed money to buy a plot of land to grow her dream into reality. But Alice was quite stubborn about getting things done on her own merit, and he respected that. It always felt good to put your own blood, sweat, and tears into things. At the same time, asking for help wasn’t a bad thing either.

Especially given that if there was one thing the Sullivans were good at, it was pitching in for one another… and also poking their noses into one another’s business, whether they lived in California or Australia or England.

Malcolm had always counted himself very fortunate to have the unconditional acceptance and open arms of his family. Regardless of what else was going on in his life, he always knew his family, both near and far, would be there for him.

Josie yawned again, and he decided he’d better give her a quick tour of the boat before she fell asleep on her feet. “The tour won’t take long. Here’s the lounge. The woodstove is fairly easy to light and will warm up the entire space nicely.” He pointed out the printed instructions he’d taped near the stove for people other than himself who needed to light it. “The galley—” He gestured to the attached space that had a small peninsula jutting into it. “—is tiny, but it does the job. The fridge is also small, but comparable to what you’d find in a lot of flats. It just means you’ll have to stock up on fresh fruit and veg more often than you would in the States. And as I said earlier, the hot water can be a little tricky, but if you do a little dance to the gods when you turn on the water heater, hopefully you’ll be okay.”

She did a funny little tap dance in front of him. “Will this do?”

He laughed, surprised at how easily it came when he hadn’t been in a laughing mood lately. “It should do nicely. Now, if you’ll head down the hallway, you’ll see the guest bedroom on the right. It’s barely bigger than a coat closet, but will sleep two people in a pinch. And the bathrooms are back to back beyond that, the smaller bathroom for the lounge and the guest room and then a separate one for the primary suite.” He put the words primary suite in air quotes, acknowledging that it was a very tiny space.

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