““So,” he said, clearing the roughness out of his throat. “Where should we set up?” There was a narrow galley belowdeck and, he knew from Tom’s brief tour earlier, there was also a small cabin tucked up in front, with a snug queen-size bed wedged inside and a small shower between the two. All completely outfitted, ready for its next occupants. He tried like hell not to think about that. He knew she’d been about to say or do something when she’d closed the lid of the bin, but whatever it was, she let that go. He had no doubt she’d get back to it, if it was important to her. “Foredeck,” she said, motioning with her free hand to the expanse of white fiberglass and sealed teak that formed the raised, flat, front end of the boat, where the thick masts soared upward, rigged out under full sail. “You okay to maneuver up there? I can take the hamper.” “No worries,” he said. “I’ve got it.” Given the way things were going and the war he was waging with his body, better to keep his hands full for as long as humanly possible.””
