Willow Smoke (33 page)

Daisy
shook
her
head.

“Like
any
small
boat,
canoes
can
swamp
in
heavy
waves.
If
a
storm
is
coming
up,
the
wisest
decision
is
to
head
for
shore.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t let him scare
you,” Tom admonished. “If he ever swamped a boat, it was to see what it was
like. In water safety
courses,
the
instructor
will
often
ask
you
to
tip
over
the
canoe
to
teach
you
what
to
do
in
case
it
happens
for
real.

“What
I
like
about
Nick’s
designs
is
their
simplicity.
A
canoe
is
the
simplest
of
boats:
it’s
a
hull
with
whatever
else
is needed
to
hold
it
in
place.
Sometimes
designers
get
carried
away;
Nick
doesn’t.
The
result
is
a
simple,
elegant,
serviceable form of water transportation.”

“I
like
your
logo.
The
single
paddle
design
with
Paddle
Dreams
Unlimited
in
script
is
simple
and
elegant.
Did
you
come
up
with
that?”
she
asked,
glancing
at
Nick.

Nick
drank
from
his
cup.
“We
both
did.
This
is a joint venture. We both do just
about
everything
there
is
to
do
in
the
building
process. I just can’t get
Tom to try
one
out.”

“Really?”
Daisy
cast
an
inquisitive
look
at
Tom.

Tom
glared
at
Nick
before
answering.
“That’s
a
whole
other
story,
Daisy.
I’ll
just
say
I
got
too
damn
wet
too
many
times
saving
your
friend’s
ass
while
we
served
together
in
Special
Forces.
Now
I
only
go
near
the
water
to
take
a
shower.”

“They
look
so
pretty.”
Daisy
looked
at
a
picture
hanging
on
the
wall
of
Nick
in
one
of
his
canoes
with
a
forested
island
in
the
background.
The
place
looked
so
remote
and
Nick
looked
so
at
home.
That
was
a
man
she
wasn’t
sure
she
knew.
“I’m
not sure I could get in one. But it
must
be
serene
to
glide
along
in
the
water
without
hearing
the
sound
of
an
engine.”

“That
it
is.
Maybe
you’d
like
to
come
along
when
I
test
the
next
model.
Is
it
about
ready, Tom?”

“Soon. Another week or
two at the most.
Don’t
press
it,
Nick.
You
know
we
can’t
rush
a
good
canoe,
any
more
than
a
good
wine,
or
a
good...well,
I’d
best
be
getting
back
to
work.
Good
meeting
you,
Daisy.
We’ll
be
seeing
you
at
the
ball,
right?”

Daisy
stood
to
shake
Nick’s
partner’s
hand.
“I’ll
be
there.
Nick
has
a
hard
time
accepting
no.”

Tom
tipped
back
his
head
and
howled.
“Didn’t
take
you
long
to
learn
that
one.
I’m
not
sure
no
is
in
his
vocabulary.
Bye.”

She
watched
Tom
Harrison
enter
the
lobby
and
say
something
to
the
receptionist,
who
laughed
and
waved
the
man
on.
“I
like
Tom. He seems so at ease.”

“He
doesn’t
rile
easily,
but
you
wouldn’t
want
to
be
around
when
he
does.
So
how
about
taking
a
canoe
trip
with
me
in
a
couple
weeks
or
so?”

Daisy’s
brow
furrowed.
“No,
I
couldn’t
do
that.
I have to stay with the horses. I
have
a job that ties me down, remember?”

“Okay.
I’m
glad
you
liked
the
canoes.
They
are
something
else,
aren’t
they?”

“So, that’s it. You
accepted my
no.
After what Tom said?”

Nick
guffawed.
“You
two
made
me
sound
like
some
domineering
kind
of
guy.”
His
eyebrows arched. “I’m
not
into
domination.
Are
you?”

“Certainly
not.”

“Good.
Anyway,
you’ve
now
seen
what
I
do
besides
race
racehorses
and
watch
the stock market.”

“At
first
when
you
talked
about
canoe
building,
I
thought
you
were
talking
about
a
hobby,
but
I
see
now
that
this
is
your
love.
Do
you
know
you
talk
about
it
using
the
same
language
you
use
to
describe
lovemaking?”

Nick’s brow furrowed. “I
hadn’t thought about
it quite like
that.” He paused. “I
suppose
you’re
right.

Chuckling,
Daisy
pointed
at
the
various
canoe
designs
covering
the
wall
opposite
Nick’s
desk.
“A
shrink
might
point
out
how
you
spend
much
of
your
time
drawing
the
shape
of
a
woman’s
most
private
part.”

Nick
stared
at
the
designs.
His
mouth
fell
open.
“Well,
I’ll
be
damned.
The
student
is out-performing the master.”

Daisy
stood
and
kissed
Nick
on
the
cheek.
“I’d
better
get
back
to
work
myself.
There
are
some
questionable
knees
to
check
before
evening.”

- o -

After
Nick’s
employees
had
gone
home,
he
walked
toward
the
large,
airy
sanding
room
where
six
canoes
sat
on
sawhorses.
It
was
there
he’d
find
Tom.
The
man
loved
to
rub
sandpaper
against
wood.
When
others
thought
they
were
finished
with
the
job
or
had
given
up
on
an
unrelenting
knot
or
scar,
Tom
would
find
a
way
to
help
the
wood
express
its
unique
personality.