Page 37 of Wanting a Family Man

Cloe had already learned that Wág?ís?a was the Native name for Bella Bella. The first mate, Johnny, would also join them there.

Everyone smiled and shuffled an eager step forward.

The first to board were a middle-aged German couple, Trudi and Renz, with their two sons, Karl and Stefan, who were fourteen and eleven. Next was a pair of honeymooners from Regina, Nathan and Christina.

Everyone oohed and aahed as they bumped their way down to the cabins.

While the guests were unpacking, Trystan started the engine and Cloe stepped off the yacht to do the one thing she was really nervous about: casting off.

“Do you want me to do it?” Trystan asked her, coming out on deck. He wasn’t openly laughing at her, but she suspected he wanted to.

He cast off alone all the time, when he took the boat for refueling after everyone had disembarked, but Sarah had said this was something she and Johnny did as part of their duties. Cloe was determined to not only do it but get good at it.

She started by stowing the steps. Then, as luck would have it, Sophie came up to her as she was clumsily untying the bow line. Cloe already felt pressured because the engine was grumbling and the two German boys had come on deck to try on life preservers, watching her as they did. She was all thumbs.

“Good morning,” Sophie said.

“Good morning. What are you doing here?”

“I work here.” Sophie gave an amused pluck at the front of her coveralls. “I was diagnosing a problem on that trawler, but I thought I’d come over and say bon voyage. I’m kind of jealous that you get to do this.” She tipped forward to whisper, “Even though I hate cooking and cleaning up after people.”

“That doesn’t bother me, but yeah. I kind of feel likeIshould be payinghim,” Cloe said in an undertone. “Do you know, um, what I do with this now?” She stood with the rope in her hand.

“Sure.” Sophie showed her how to coil it, then toss it onto the bow. “Do the stern, then come back for this one.” She pointed at the middle tie. “Hang on to it as you climb aboard. Otherwise, you could be waving like a loser from the wharf or you’re dragging up a wet line. That’s the voice of experience, by the way.”

“Ha. Thanks.” She followed Sophie’s suggestion, grasped the final line, took hold of the rail, and brought the rope with her as she stepped aboard.

After climbing on and off theStorm Ridgeabout twenty times in the last two days, Cloe had figured out how to do it with some semblance of grace, at least.

Trystan was in the open doorway to the saloon, watching all of this, likely ready to snatch her out of the air like a cat with a bird if she started to fall into the drink. He nodded approval and lifted a friendly hand at Sophie.

“See ya Sunday,” he said to her before he invited the boys to join him in the fly bridge while they crossed the passage.

The boys stripped off their jackets and followed Trystan up the stairs, leaving Cloe to put the life preservers back in the hatch. She began to see exactly what her job would entail.

As the adults filtered up to the saloon, she offered coffee, serving it in covered thermal mugs that guests would take home with them so she wrote their initials on the bottoms. By the time she had handed out a latte, an Americano, and an Earl Grey tea, they were at the wharf where she had waited for the water taxi two short days ago.

It felt like a lifetime had passed!

As she hurried onto deck to tie up—and realized it was more anxiety-invoking than casting off—she saw a heavy-set man around her age wearing a Raven’s Cove windbreaker and ball cap. He had black hair and thick eyebrows, round cheeks, and a thin chinstrap beard that framed a friendly smile.

“Yáu,” he called, which sounded a little like “Yo,” and indicated he would catch the bow line.

Cloe tossed it to him, then hurried to the stern, which he also caught because he was freaking good at this.

“You must be Johnny.” She hurried to get the steps in place.

“You must be Cloe.” He secured the steps with a calm confidence like Trystan’s, as though he’d been around boats his whole life and regarded the gap between wharf and vessel as nothing more than a puddle. He shook her hand as she came onto the wharf.

Trystan came out to greet the four other guests waiting to board. Cheri and Annette were visiting from New York, and Brielle had brought her mother, Elodie, as a sixtieth birthday present.

A few minutes later, they were underway. Johnny provided the safety briefing while Cloe popped some welcome snacks into the oven and ensured everyone was comfortable and had a beverage if they wanted one.

The morning was cool, but not cold. The sunshine came and went behind fluffy clouds. Whitecaps dabbed the chop on the blue-green water.

What Cloe had assumed was the coastline when she was on the ferry was actually a network of islands, passages, fjords, and inlets. They passed a few small beaches and rocky cliff faces, but most of the shoreline was thick forest that grew right down to the tide line.

“Why don’t you have big sandy beaches like we have in California?” she asked Johnny when he brought her a few stray dishes for washing.

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