Summer Secrets - Barbara Freethy [1]
"But you will." Kate followed her to the door. "Don't think twice. You deserve a night off with that darling husband of yours."
Theresa blushed. "Thanks. After eight years of marriage and two babies who need a lot of attention, sometimes I forget how lucky I am."
"You are lucky."
"And you are great with kids. You should think about having some of your own."
"It's easy to be great for an hour."
"Brrr," Theresa said as they walked out of the store together. She stopped to zip up her sweater. "The wind is picking up."
"Out of the southwest," Kate said automatically, her experienced nautical eye already gauging the knots to be between twelve and fifteen. "There's a storm coming. It should be here by six o'clock. Take an umbrella with you."
"You're better than the weather report," Theresa said with a laugh. "Don't stay too late, now. People will start to suspect you don't have a life."
Kate made a face at her friend. "I have a fine life." Theresa was halfway to her car and didn't bother to reply. "I have a great life," Kate repeated. After all, she lived in Castleton, one of the most beautiful spots in the world, a large island off the coast of Washington State, one of the several hundred islands that made up the archipelago known as the San Juans.
Her bookstore at the northern end of Pacific Avenue had an incredible view of the deep blue waters of Puget Sound. It was one of the interesting, quaint shops that ran down a two-mile cobblestone strip to Rose Harbor, a busy marina that filled every July with boats in town for the annual Castleton Invitational Sailboat Races.
Castleton was known for its rugged beauty, its fir and evergreen-covered hillsides and more than one hundred miles of driftwood-strewn beaches. Most of the island traffic came via the Washington State Ferry, although boaters were plentiful, and small private planes could land at the Castleton Airport.
The unpredictable southwesterly winds created swirling, dangerous currents along many of the beaches and had driven a few boats to ground on their way to shelter in the harbor. But the winds didn't stop the boats from coming or the sailors from congregating. Tales of sails and storms could be overheard in every restaurant, café, and business in town. There were more boat slips in the marina than there were parking spaces downtown. The lives of Castleton's residents weren't just by the sea, they were about the sea.
Kate loved her view of the waterfront: loved the one from her house in the hills even better -- but more than anything she appreciated the fact that the view didn't change every day. Maybe some would call that boring, but she found it comforting.
The wind lifted the hair off the back of her neck, changing that feeling of comfort to one of uneasiness. Wind in her life had meant change. Her father, Duncan McKenna, a sailing man from the top of his head to the tips of his toes, always relished the wind's arrival. Kate could remember many a time when he had jumped to his feet at the first hint of a breeze. A smile would spread across his weatherbeaten cheeks as he'd stand on the deck of their boat, pumping his fist triumphantly in the air, his eyes focused on the distant horizon. The wind's up, Katie girl, he'd say. It's time to go.
And they'd go -- wherever the wind took them. They'd sail with it, into it, against it. They'd lash out in anger when it blew too hard, then cry in frustration when it vanished completely. Her life had been formed, shaped, and controlled by the wind. She'd thought of it as a friend; she'd thought of it as a monster. Well, no more.
She had a home now, an address, a mailbox, a garden. She might live by the water, but she didn't live on it. The wind