Page 41 of The Seven Miracles of Beatrix Holland
Fritz gave her Hector’s number, and he met her at the marina ten minutes later. Hector was a short, round man who wore a flannel jacket that looked like it had gone through two world wars, and by the looks of his beard, he’d had eggs for breakfast. But his smile was kind as he helped her on board with a warm hand. He warned her, “This gal’s a ridiculous charmer, I’ll have you know. A forty-foot legend.”
“I’m not really in the market.” Beatrice felt her cheeks flush. “Lookie-looing. That’s all. I hope you don’t mind.”
His eyes twinkled. “Just you wait till we get inside.”
TheForget-Me-Knotwas a delightful boat, yes. That was, if she evenwasa boat. As Hector searched his pockets for the key,he explained she was more of a stationary houseboat, because she didn’t reallygoanywhere. She was attached to the dock, almost growing out of it, and looked from the outside more like a tiny home than a boat. “It’s why I’m selling her—I finally want to be out on the high seas. Run away to a far-off land, you know?”
Beatrice did know.
“You a sailor?”
“No,” she said apologetically.
“Eh.” He shrugged and two screws fell out of a hole in his jacket’s pocket. “Better that way, honestly. Wherearethose keys?”
He found them, and they entered through the front door. (An actual front door proved that it was more house than boat, right?) The main cabin was lined in warm reddish wood, the ceiling curving up like the swell of a wave. Three skylights let in the sun. There was a tiny galley kitchen, and a table with four chairs in matching wood. A potbelly stove perched next to a soft-looking sofa, and the brass fittings gleamed. An armchair made for a person with very short legs looked like it was waiting for Mama Bear to come home. The space felt roomier than she would have thought possible. Seven or eight people could sit comfortably inside. If they liked each other.
She wouldn’t—shouldn’t—ask. But the words came anyway. “I know you’re looking to sell, but would you consider a short-term rental?”
“Extended holiday, like?” His bushy eyebrows rose.
“Something like that.”
A pause. Then, as if she hadn’t spoken, he ushered her up six steps to the raised bedroom. The room was small but the bed was a good size. “The way she rocks you to sleep, you’ll never know what hit you. Ever have insomnia?”
Beatrice nodded. “On occasion.”
“Never again. I tell you, never again. Now, look here.” He pulled a knob at the foot of the bed. “Morestorage!”
The bathroom (the head, he corrected her) was minuscule and didn’t produce a lot of hot water (“just a wee twelve-volt heater”) but it would do. The rest of the power came from a bank of four six-volt batteries.
The only thing it lacked were bookcases of any sort. But the space between two of the windows in the main cabin would be an ideal place for a built-in bookcase, wouldn’t it? And at the end of the counter there was a bit of wasted space. Another bookcase could go there. And perhaps under the window seat? And next to it? Beatrice—or whoever bought the boat—would have to figure out how to keep books from getting damp on board. A dehumidifier perhaps?
Hector slapped a pile of battered-looking papers onto the galley counter. “Inspection report! Clean as a whistle!”
She wasn’t buying a boat.
But even if shewereconsidering anything this preposterous, shouldn’t she get her own inspection report, at least, and not just trust his? What if the deed that was going through the vessel dealer fell through, or if there were liens on the property? It was a houseboat, not a house, but she should still follow proper protocol.When everything is in perfect place, worry can be perfectly released.She pushed her father’s voice out of her head.
So what if it all fell apart? The money was just sitting in Beatrice’s bank account, enough of it liquid to make this happen. Rather easily, in fact. She’d been saving for a rainy day. And if there was even a small possibility that she wouldn’t live long enough to see that rainy day (just like anyone else—she wasn’t special in this, she reminded herself), why not spend it on something she wanted?
I want this.
A shiver slipped through her. “Would you rent it to me?”
Hector fixed her with a knowing eye. “No. But I’ll sell it to you.”
I want to live here.
They agreed to the price on a handshake. Hector called the vessel dealer and his friend at the bank, who made a phone call (an actualphonecall) to her bank in LA, and the cash flowed through the money pipes. Then he handed her the keys, even before he got the transfer confirmation.
Nine phone calls and three hours later, Beatrice owned a houseboat. Feeling rather green, she shook Hector’s hand one last time.
“Thank you.” What had she just done?
“She’s all yours, and you won’t regret it, my dear!” He spun around, gave the doorframe a friendly pat, and walked down the dock, whistling cheerfully.
Beatrice watched him greet someone in the parking lot, who nodded back to him politely. Reno, dressed in a black beanie and a well-worn jean jacket, headed her direction down the dock.
