Page 45 of Devlin

"No, he doesn't," Devlin said, an odd note in his voice. "Neither do I."

"But that's the way you like it, right?"

"I've always thought so. Let's get out of here." He led the way upstairs, punching in a code to unlock his door.

She was expecting the apartment to look as sparse and barrenas Devlin's office downstairs, but she was pleasantly surprised. The large living space had floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the water. An open kitchen displayed state-of-the-art appliances and the living area and dining room were furnished with a mix of white and gray furniture, offset by colorful rugs, throw pillows, as well as some very tasteful art on the walls, many of which were framedimages of boat and ocean scenes.

Beyond the wall art, there wasn't much of a nautical theme to Devlin's home. But there was a sense of warmth and comfort that was at direct odds with the feeling she'd experienced earlier.

"This is a beautiful space," she told him, as he set the box on the dining room table. "Was it professionally decorated?"

"My mother and grandmother hada hand in picking out the furniture."

"I had a feeling. But it still feels like you. And that's nice."

"I like it. Hopefully, you've gotten past the creepy feeling," he teased.

"I have. I can barely remember what's downstairs."

"My mother was insistent that I feel like I'd left work when I came home. Of course, she would have preferred I live at the estate full-time,but barring that, she was determined to make me comfortable here."

"Why don't you live at the estate? It's huge. I know there's a housekeeper and a chef and plenty of people to take care of your every need."

"It's not my style. It's too big."

"Too big? You're living all by yourself in a huge building."

"But this space is just right. And I'm close to work."

"Youdon't want your own house?"

"Asks the real estate agent," he teased.

"Guilty. I do like putting people in their own homes. Not that this isn't lovely, but it's still an apartment in a boat manufacturing company. I think it's better for people to have a bit more distance between work life and home life. My father probably could have saved his marriage by simply moving to the nexttown. My mom wanted to feel like when he was home, he was really home."

"I can see that. It doesn't matter to me, because I'm on my own." He opened the box and pulled out a photograph. "This one is from a long time ago."

She took the photo from his hands, then sat down at the table as she studied it. There were four people sitting at a restaurant table, toasting some occasion withfour glasses of champagne. Her parents looked incredibly young, as did Graham and Claire. "They had to be in their late twenties or thirties. Is this at the Bickmore?" she asked, referring to the stately manor at the edge of downtown that had once belonged to a silent film star and then had been turned into a luxury hotel. Its dining room was currently being run by a Michelin-starred chef, and thewealthy summer tourists kept the restaurant booked months in advance.

"It looks like it. My parents loved going there for dinner."

"It was always too expensive for my family. I only went there once for breakfast, and that seemed like a real treat." She frowned. "I don't even remember my parents like this."

"I don't remember my parents like that, either. But this photo feelsmore familiar."

The next picture he handed her had been taken at the beach. The four friends were standing on the bluff overlooking the ocean, a dozen colorful sails behind them. "This must have been at the races. I do recall that sweater my mom is wearing."

"Here's one of you." He handed her another photo.

This picture had been taken at Harbor Park. Her mother and Clairewere sitting at a picnic table with her and a little boy while Graham and her dad were tending to a nearby grill. She was probably three years old in the photo and the boy a year or two older.

"I'm pretty sure that's Ross," Devlin said.

"I wonder where you were."

"Who knows?" he said with a shrug. "Probably running around on the playground." He handed her another picture."This is the last one. It's from six years ago. I can tell because that's when we launched theRebel King. It was right after I came back from traveling around the world. And it was probably the last boat my father had much to do with. Once I started working, he took a big step back."

Her father and Graham were pictured standing in front of a large yacht, and the camera had caught themin a moment of pure, happy friendship. They were smiling at each other with what appeared to be a great deal of pride. "If only we could get them to remember the way they used to feel about each other. What if we show them these pictures?"

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