Arrow's Rest by Joel Scott (best way to read books txt) 📕

in comparison to what you had before. En suite staterooms with giant double beds, leather upholstery in the saloon, a big fridge and freezer with an ice cube maker, ac for warm days, hot water heating for cold ones, Bluetooth sound in every stateroom, and in the cockpit, a great big beautiful—”

“I’m flying up to Desolation Sound next week and meeting a guy there,” Jared blurted out. “He’s a salvage expert and we’re going to look at raising Arrow. I’ve sent him all the info along with the screenshots Cat took of her lying on the bottom. He says given the depth it will be tricky, but she’s sitting well and it should be doable with a good weather window. Deep sea divers, air bags, we’ll lift her and get enough pumps going to make the tow across the inlet to the logging camp on a flat day. Maybe need a sling under her tied off to a companion boat on each side. Then we crane Arrow onto a barge, block her up and chain her down, and move her to a boat yard. Maybe Port Townsend. Lots of wooden boat people there.”

“That sounds stupid expensive.”

“It’s not cheap, but I’m playing with house money here.” Jared intended to use the windfall exclusively on Arrow. If there was anything left after all the work was completed, he’d donate it to a charity; the sooner he was rid of the money, the better. It had felt wrong taking it, but the thought of his grandfather rolling over in his grave about the spending of it made it seem almost okay. “I got hold of that East Coast shipwright who did the repairs on Arrow in Papeete. He’s back home now and I think I can talk him into coming out here to supervise the work.”

Danny sighed and shook his head. “And then, Jared, when all is said and done, what you’ll end up with is an insanely expensive old-fashioned, outdated marine version of a hundred—”

“And if I hear any more talk about old axes from anyone,” Jared broke in, “I’ll take that red one hanging up over there by the engine room door and bury it in that person’s skull.”

Chapter 59

Clarke lounged in teak on the canvassed-in afterdeck of the brand-new forty-two-foot Ranger tug, adjusted the visor of his brand-new captain’s hat, and took a sip of his martini. It was, as always, perfect. He reached across and touched glasses with Merlynn and looked around the anchorage. Not many boats this time of year.

“I suppose we should get going soon,” he said with little conviction.

“Why?” Merlynn queried.

Clarke had no answer. Why indeed? He supposed his mild guilt was the residue from thirty-four-and-a-half years of punching the clock and showing up for work, day after day, week after week, and year after year. It was hard to get used to the idea that that part of his life was now over and he was completely free to do with each day whatever he chose. Putter off to the next anchorage, lay in bed, fool around, any combination of the above. Even after three months, it still seemed a bit sinful to him.

His friends on the force whom he saw at his weekly poker sessions were full of gloomy predictions: “The novelty will wear off and he’ll miss the excitement of the old days” — that one was a non-starter, most of Clarke’s days had been as dull as dogshit. “He’ll end up drinking himself to death” — oh well. Etcetera, etcetera. Clarke suspected most of the doomsayers were married men who would no longer have a valid reason to leave the house. He glanced over at Merlynn who now had her hat tilted down over her eyes and the ever-present book dropped onto the table beside her. In another five minutes she’d be asleep.

He had never been able to nap during the day and read little apart from the occasional bestseller. He could list a dozen other ways in which they differed, diet and lifestyle for starters. Perhaps the difference between them was the magic ingredient in their relationship. That, coupled with the fact that neither of them were zealots. She didn’t try and get him on the early morning treadmill, and he didn’t press her to join him in cholesterol breakfasts. In three months together on and off the boat they hadn’t had one real argument. Not since she’d bought the Ranger with the insurance settlement, registered it in both their names, and presented him with a fait accompli. Clarke, after a long losing battle, drew up a will for the first time in his life and bequeathed his share back to her. He watched Merlynn for a while, a smile on his face. Maybe he should try and get into the nap thing. He leaned back and closed his eyes.

Epilogue

Some of the buses were old and travel worn, but Joseph didn’t mind the rattles. They’d all been warm and comfortable and he’d loaded his tablet with movies for the trip. And he liked old. It had been fifteen years since he’d visited his relatives on the prairies and they’d been badgering him to make the trip. They’d all journeyed out to the coast, they nagged, and it was past time he came out east to them. Joseph thought it was like the people in hell wanting the people in heaven to come and stay with them, rather than the other way round, but it had been good to travel through the high mountains and across the prairies one more time. It might be his last chance.

It had been a fine journey, five weeks of travel and visiting with his people, some of whom were old and he might not see again, but he was looking forward to returning home. Just one final visit to make and one last thing to do. He turned away from the window, leaned back in his seat, closed his eyes, and half