“Thanks for doing this. I'm sure there are better ways for you to blow an hour and a half.”
“It was no problem.” She hit the turn signal and easedonto his driveway. "Would you like some help getting this stuff inside?"
"No. You wait here with the heater running. I won't
take long."
And he didn't, even with the cane.
With the last two bags in his left hand, he shut the rear door. She expected him just to wave her off, but he came around to the driver's side. She put the window down. “Seriously, thank you,” he said.
Their eyes met.
Ask me in, she thought. Ask me to stay for a while. For the night. I know you have your reasons to keep away, but—“See you tomorrow, Cassandra”
Chapter Fourteen
A week later Alex clipped his cell phone shut and stared at the thing.
William Hosworth IV, or Hoss as he was known in sailing circles, wanted to buy a boat. From Alex. Which was nuts, he thought.
When he'd sent those plans to Rhode Island, he hadn't an?ticipated this kind of thing. He'd just wanted another set of eyes to tell him if the changes he'd made to his father's designs had in fact improved the overall performance of the craft.
What the hell did he know about building a sailboat? Sure, he'd spent hours upon hours rehabbing the damn things in and out of the water. And there wasn't anything he couldn't do with his hands.
But building a sailboat from start to finish was a differ?ent beast than fixing one.
Abruptly he thought of the unwinterized part of the barn. If it was cleared out, the center aisle was big enough to accommodate a full-size yacht up on blocks. If he bought the wood and hired a couple of guys
No way. He'd need industrial tools and respiratory apparatuses. He'd have to comply with standards and codes he didn't know about.
Except, what if he out-sourced the project? Now there was an idea. He knew a pair of brothers upon Blue Mountain Lake who handmade repros of old-fashioned power boat racers. Maybe they'd be interested in doing a partnership.
Then Alex thought of Mad Dog's impending visit. He knew it wasn't a social one. His crew was going to want him back at the helm. Soon.
If he decided to return as their captain, he could kiss off the yacht-building fantasy. You didn't put boats together as a hobby even if you had someone else pounding the nails. You had to monitor the progress constantly, be on hand and available if problems arose.
Like Cassandra was with her work. She was on site every day, dealing with issues.
He looked at White Caps, hoping to catch a glimpse of her. Instead all he saw were three plumbers walking out with their toolboxes.
Each afternoon when the men left, Alex fought not to go over to the house. Cassandra's presence was a constant—A pounding on the door brought his head around. “Hey, Moorehouse!” Spike called out. "You ready to go see your grandmother?"
“Yeah” He picked up two of his father's original plans and tucked them under his arm as Spike came in. “And I've got another stop I need to make in town.”
“No problem, man.” Spike smiled, his typical, half?cocked grin making an appearance.
Today, the guy was wearing his standard uniform. Black turtleneck, black pants, beat-to-hell biker's jacket. A pair of aviator sunglasses hung on a leash around his neck. With his hair sticking straight up and the earrings, he looked like a GQ model who'd been styled by a goth anarchist.
Alex grabbed his coat and the two of them went outside. Snow was falling lightly, silently. He looked to White Caps, willing Cassandra to come out. Of course, she didn't.
“Why don't you go to her, man?” Spike said quietly. Alex just shook his head and got in the car.
After the plumbers left, Cass sagged against the wall. She felt as if the law of gravity was taking a special interest in her. Her clothes seemed heavy as a lead suit, her arms and legs dragging.
It was all catching up to her. The not sleeping, the not eating.
Bottom line? She was losing weight as well as her mind. And all that was before she'd realized she had fallen in love with Alex.
The sound of a car pulling up to the house brought her head around. Actually, the low growl was more like a diesel truck. So it was probably one of the plumbers coming back for something he'd forgotten.
As the plastic wrap moved aside, Cass had to blink several times.
Holy...that was definitely not one of the plumbers. The woman in the doorway was easily six feet tall, and her face was right out of the movies, all eyes and lips. She was dressed in tight blue jeans and a dark fleece and her long, black hair fell down her back.
She glowed with good health, positively radiated strength and vitality. Next to her Cass felt like a shrub with frost burn.
“Hi, I'm looking for Alex Moorehouse. He said he lived here.” The woman looked around with sapphire eyes. “But I must have the wrong address.”
“He, ah, he lives in the shop.”
“You mean the barn? Oh, great. Thanks.” The woman turned away.
“Who are you?” Cass asked quietly.
“Madeline Maguire. I'm his navigator.” She flashed a smile. Naturally, her teeth were perfect and as white as tile. “Mad Dog.”
The woman laughed, a deep, husky sound. “You must be a friend of his.”
“Not really. No.”
Mad Dog gave her an odd look. “Well, anyway. Thanks for the redirection.”
Cass went to one of the few windows that had some glass left in it and watched the woman jog up to the shop, her body moving with the power and agility of a superior athlete.
Just like Alex's did.
Cass collected her things and shut off the generator. She was about to leave when the plastic flap was thrown to the side again.
Madeline smiled, warmth and apology combined. “If he's not there, you wouldn't happen to know where he might have gone?”
“I'm sorry, I don't.” But then she remembered seeing Spike arrive and leave about an hour ago. “Wait. He probably went into town. He shouldn't be long.”
At that moment the Honda came down the drive and pulled up to the shop.
“Here he is.”
The woman glanced over her shoulder. “I wonder how this is going to go,” she said softly.
“Excuse me?”
“It's been a while and a lot has happened,” Madeline murmured. “God, look at him move. So carefully.”
Alex eased out of the car and leaned on his cane while he waved Spike off. Before he started for the shop, he eyed the black Dodge Viper the woman had evidently come in.
“Mad Dog!” he called toward the shop. “Where are you?”
Mad Dog, Madeline, whatever her name was, burst out of the plastic and jogged with that awful grace across the lawn.
Cass followed, going to her car.
“I'm right here,” the woman said.
Alex looked over his shoulder. The woman stopped about ten yards away from him.
“Hey, girl,” he said, as he turned around.
“Captain”
He smiled slowly. “So you gonna hug me or just keep staring at me like you've seen a ghost?”
The woman let out a soft sob and galloped into his arms.
As their bodies melded, Cass closed her eyes.
Fumbling for her keys, she got in the Rover and drove to Gray's. When she was parked in front of the house, she put her head down on the steering wheel. The car was freezing cold by the time she went inside.
She gave Ernest a brief hello and skirted the issue of dinner by telling Libby she'd eaten a big lunch with the workmen. “And this might sound antisocial,” she continued, “but I really want to lie down. Even though it's only six o'clock.”
“You head on up to bed, then,” Libby said. “You look exhausted. Oh, by the way, we're having visitors again. Alex's sister Frankie has asked everyone to come up here. Well, everyone being Joy and Gray, that is.”
Cass frowned. “I hope she's not worried about the progress we're making at White Caps. I talk to her at least once a week to update her.”
“I'm sure she's perfectly happy. Now get on up to bed, will you? You make me tired just looking at you. And if you wake up hungry at midnight, there's plenty in the fridge to snack on”
Upstairs, Cass took a quick shower and climbed be?tween the sheets.
So why aren't you with your Miracle?
It can't work between us.
She's not in your life?
Not the way I wish she was. Not the way...I want her: It would be inappropriate.
Of course it would. Alex couldn't have a personal rela?tionship with one of his crew, his navigator. And if the woman was indeed one of the strongest assets on his boat, he wasn't going to let her talents go to someone else. Clearly, he'd rather forgo the relationship for the winning. Which made him the professional, the champion, he was.
Madeline Maguire was his Miracle.
God, this hurts, Cass thought, massaging her chest. This really hurts.
Later that night Alex lay back against his pillow and glared at the ceiling. “I don't want you on my floor.” “Your leg trumps chivalry, Captain.”
He rolled over onto his side and looked at Mad's face.
She was staring up at him, waiting for him to let her say the things she'd come to say. Over dinner in town and through several great racks of pool, they'd talked about the old times, the good times, and she'd caught him up on the crew's latest and greatest.
But that was all preamble. And they both knew it. “So let's get it over with,” he said.
“We want you back.”
Alex almost smiled. The stories they'd shared over the Silver Diner's blue-plate special and then across all that green felt had gotten him thinking. Missing. Wishing.
The words just came out. “I want to come back.”
“Thank God,” Mad breathed.
“But I don't know when” He wasn't about to tell her that the state of his mind made his leg look like a real winner, so he focused on the physical stuff. “I've got a lot of rehab I need to do before I'm up and rolling. You'll see tomorrow, if you work out with us.”
“Us?”
“Yeah. Me and Spike. You'll like him.”
“I already like his name”
Alex chuckled. They were silent awhile, and then Mad murmured, “Captain?”
“Huh?”
“There's one more thing.”
“Let it fly, Mad.”
“The boys and me...we liked Reese. We were grateful for what he did for us. You know, all that money and support and he was a nice guy, too. His death, it shook us up. But we want you to know, if it had been you who hadn't come back, we, uh, we would have been ruined. We would have bailed on the sport. We wouldn't have been able to go on without you”
“Thanks, but you'd have gotten over it. Trust me.” He thought of the deaths of his father and mother. He'd gone on. Gone on and left his sisters to clean up the mess, sure, but he'd moved ahead. God, he hated himself some?times. He really did. “Now, enough of the sentimental stuff, okay?”
She laughed softly. “Aye, Captain.”
They were silent for a time.
“Hey, Mad? I want you to be aware of something.” “What?”
“Reese's wife is working on White Caps. She's our architect and general contractor. I just wanted you to know in case you ran into her.”
“The redhead? That was her?”
He tried to remember if Cassandra had come to any of the races and realized she hadn't. The only times he'd seen her were when he and Reese were going out on, or coming home from, private trips.
“You haven't met her, have you?” he said.
Mad shook her head. “You know how Reese was all into keeping his lives separate. I did see her from a distance at the funeral, but she looked so different then. I didn't recog?nize her today.”