Read Online A Charmed Place by Antoinette Stockenberg - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Antoinette Stockenberg
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have to pass, because she didn't have a clue.
Joan gave Maddie a blow-by-blow account of Norah in action. "Okay, she's down. She's just stepped off the board, kind of casually. You wouldn't call it a fall."
"Her bikini wouldn't take the force of a fall," said Maddie.
They laughed together. Joan's mood was less tragic now, and Maddie was glad.
"I wonder if Norah can actually pull it off," Joan mused.
"If necessary," Maddie deadpanned. They laughed again.
"Okay, she must've got the fin off. Now she's climbing back on the board. Now she's standing.-The sail's lying flat in the water. What great balance she has. If that were me . ... Now she's cupping her hands, yelling at the lighthouse."
"I think I hear her from here."
"I wonder if he's even home. Just because the Jeep is there . ... And in the meantime, she really is drifting away fast. Oh, why did she pick a day when the wind was blowing offshore?''
"Joannie, think about it. It wouldn't make sense to pick a day with a sea breeze nudging her gently back onto the beach, would it?"
Joan sighed and said, "No ... but ... she's getting farther out. He won't be able to hear her, not with the wind blowing her cries away from the lighthouse. Oh, Maddie, we should go! We can knock on his door, point her out to him. Oh, let's," she begged.
"We'll wait a little longer," said Maddie, but even she was getting nervous. It really was far windier on the water than it was in her sheltered garden.
"He may not even know how to use the boat that's moored in front of the lighthouse. We're just assuming!"
"Joan, shh-hh. Just ... wait."
They watched in silence as Norah, still standing, waved her arms in wide, crossing arcs, her cries for help a mere sigh in the wind. Her image became smaller ... and smaller ... and smaller, until at last Maddie said, "Damn it! We'll have to find somebody else to tow her back, or she's going to end up on Bermuda . Of all the dumb stunts!"
She went inside for her car keys, and when she came out again, Joan was grinning. "Look for yourself," she said, handing Maddie the binoculars.
Maddie held them up and readjusted the lenses. Norah was tiny, even through the glasses. But if a woman in a bikini on a broken windsurfer drifting out to sea could be said to look relaxed, then Norah looked relaxed. Very relaxed. Maddie panned to the left. Oh yes. Now she saw why. There he was in the skiff, full steam ahead for the damsel in distress.
"She did it," Maddie whispered, almost in awe.
Joan sighed with relief and said, "She can do anything. They'll be bonded now."
"Won't they? It's a regular Hallmark moment," said Maddie dryly. Inside her heart was being squeezed. It was like watching the Titanic converging with a certain iceberg.
Why had he come to Sandy Point at all? Not to see Maddie; that was obvious by now. If he was there to write his memoirs, then Norah Mills would make a da rn interesting footnote to them.
Maddie handed Joan the binoculars. She couldn't bear to watch. "Let me know if we have to call in the Coast Guard," she told Joan briskly. "I've got work to do."
****
Dan Hawke had waited as long as he possibly could for someone else—anyone else—to come to the lady's rescue. But no one had and so here he was, circling like some shark in the water, trying to figure out how the hell to lasso a windsurfer with a missing towing ring.
No good. He was going to have to wrestle the thing bodily into his skiff.
After he wrestled her in, of course. She was incredibly voluptuous; he actually had to avoid looking at her while he tried to figure out how to untangle the sail from the mast, the mast from the board, all with her lounging on the board as if it were a Victorian fainting sofa. Hell!
Flat stomach, firm breasts, limbs that went on forever—she didn't look real and maybe she wasn't; he'd had the impression, when he talked with her in Annie's that day, that she'd been under the knife for cosmetic surgery. She looked no more than thirty, but his
Joan gave Maddie a blow-by-blow account of Norah in action. "Okay, she's down. She's just stepped off the board, kind of casually. You wouldn't call it a fall."
"Her bikini wouldn't take the force of a fall," said Maddie.
They laughed together. Joan's mood was less tragic now, and Maddie was glad.
"I wonder if Norah can actually pull it off," Joan mused.
"If necessary," Maddie deadpanned. They laughed again.
"Okay, she must've got the fin off. Now she's climbing back on the board. Now she's standing.-The sail's lying flat in the water. What great balance she has. If that were me . ... Now she's cupping her hands, yelling at the lighthouse."
"I think I hear her from here."
"I wonder if he's even home. Just because the Jeep is there . ... And in the meantime, she really is drifting away fast. Oh, why did she pick a day when the wind was blowing offshore?''
"Joannie, think about it. It wouldn't make sense to pick a day with a sea breeze nudging her gently back onto the beach, would it?"
Joan sighed and said, "No ... but ... she's getting farther out. He won't be able to hear her, not with the wind blowing her cries away from the lighthouse. Oh, Maddie, we should go! We can knock on his door, point her out to him. Oh, let's," she begged.
"We'll wait a little longer," said Maddie, but even she was getting nervous. It really was far windier on the water than it was in her sheltered garden.
"He may not even know how to use the boat that's moored in front of the lighthouse. We're just assuming!"
"Joan, shh-hh. Just ... wait."
They watched in silence as Norah, still standing, waved her arms in wide, crossing arcs, her cries for help a mere sigh in the wind. Her image became smaller ... and smaller ... and smaller, until at last Maddie said, "Damn it! We'll have to find somebody else to tow her back, or she's going to end up on Bermuda . Of all the dumb stunts!"
She went inside for her car keys, and when she came out again, Joan was grinning. "Look for yourself," she said, handing Maddie the binoculars.
Maddie held them up and readjusted the lenses. Norah was tiny, even through the glasses. But if a woman in a bikini on a broken windsurfer drifting out to sea could be said to look relaxed, then Norah looked relaxed. Very relaxed. Maddie panned to the left. Oh yes. Now she saw why. There he was in the skiff, full steam ahead for the damsel in distress.
"She did it," Maddie whispered, almost in awe.
Joan sighed with relief and said, "She can do anything. They'll be bonded now."
"Won't they? It's a regular Hallmark moment," said Maddie dryly. Inside her heart was being squeezed. It was like watching the Titanic converging with a certain iceberg.
Why had he come to Sandy Point at all? Not to see Maddie; that was obvious by now. If he was there to write his memoirs, then Norah Mills would make a da rn interesting footnote to them.
Maddie handed Joan the binoculars. She couldn't bear to watch. "Let me know if we have to call in the Coast Guard," she told Joan briskly. "I've got work to do."
****
Dan Hawke had waited as long as he possibly could for someone else—anyone else—to come to the lady's rescue. But no one had and so here he was, circling like some shark in the water, trying to figure out how the hell to lasso a windsurfer with a missing towing ring.
No good. He was going to have to wrestle the thing bodily into his skiff.
After he wrestled her in, of course. She was incredibly voluptuous; he actually had to avoid looking at her while he tried to figure out how to untangle the sail from the mast, the mast from the board, all with her lounging on the board as if it were a Victorian fainting sofa. Hell!
Flat stomach, firm breasts, limbs that went on forever—she didn't look real and maybe she wasn't; he'd had the impression, when he talked with her in Annie's that day, that she'd been under the knife for cosmetic surgery. She looked no more than thirty, but his
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