Windward Whisperings (3 page)

“Preachy is honorable. Thank you.”
Her toes curled, and she felt an odd sense of dislocation. She was teasing him, and time slipped
backward. They were alone in his quiet office. Outside, a wren sat on a branch of whispering leaves,
reminding her of office gossip. She stayed on task. “I admit my statement’s lofty.”
“Not at all, it gels with me. Yesterday, I experienced your quality fittings first hand.”
“I’m conscientious, hardworking, and, as you noticed, punctual.” She gritted her teeth, having
laid it on ridiculously thick.
He nodded approvingly. “Considering your disposable income, I’m impressed you’re working.
In fact, you’re driven.” His gravely voice now fit with his commanding status.
She laughed. “Women are driven. Men who do the same thing are conscientious. Does it matter
what happened to Piermont Sails?”
“Consider it professional curiosity.”
“It was a squandered fortune when Grayson Warner Biltmore picked it up.” Her voice came out
in a squeak, caught off guard by her least favorite topic.
“I knew it had merged into the Naiad conglomerate.” Garrett never pried. This she knew.
Neither did he cover up discomfitures with meaningless chitchat. Direct but kind defined him. Out
of concern, he’d get back to it, whether or not he’d offer her this position.
She blinked, not from the question but from the genuine concern in his deep voice. Her primal
urge was to rip off his clothes and ravish his body, but she stuffed it. She was here for uphill
climbing, not for him.
“When did that happen?” His question, atypical for an interview, was anticipated.
“It happened when my parents lived high and dry. They didn’t keep tabs on their sinking
company.”
“You’re saying Piermont Sails sunk.”
“In case you’re wondering, I don’t hold it against them. You can’t expect third generation rich to
know any better.”
“They’re not living in Landings Beach?”
“No, they’re not.”
“Where are
you
living?”
“When the estate sold, I bought the gardener’s cottage. Biltmore bought the rest. In case you
wondered, I applied for my job here like anyone else.”
“Sounds like you’ve managed well, made a comfortable life.”
“I embrace it.” Her heart beat twice, hammer-hard for him, until she spotted her wool blanket
on his credenza. Her muscles screamed with fury at his negligence. “I believe that’s mine.” She
centered herself on high heels, zipped over, and grabbed it.
Watching her, he said, “Ah, the souvenir of my near drowning experience.” He looked at her.
His small attempt at levity hadn’t worked.
“I’m glad I didn’t have to cover you with it and send you to the morgue.” She didn’t hide her
anger. “You know what to do next time, Gar. Check the forecast before you head out.”
“You know I will.” The simmering twinkle in his bourbon brown eyes nearly undid her. She
liked the way he took an insult like no one else.
“You saved me, but you like beating me up.” His words had a powerful effect on her. He’d said
them before, when they’d wrestled and ended up in the nude. “Uncle.”
She couldn’t help but grin. Compared to him, she had the upper arm strength of a kitten. As she
retrieved it, she glanced over her shoulder.
Staring at her rear end, his gaze held her mesmerized. “How about giving me a private sailing
lesson, Kitzie?”
“My schedule’s packed.” She was conflicted, imagining what she’d like to do to him in private,
now that they were all grown up. “I do have an opening in my beginners’ class.” Nervousness
pitched her voice higher. “Do you like kindergarteners?”
“I probably would, but I need a private instructor. After that sailing disaster, I went out and
bought a keel boat. A boat with a ballast of six thousand pounds doesn’t capsize.”
“Where is it and what is it?” Her interest piqued.
“It’s sitting in the yard of Woody’s Marina, wait listed for a vacant slip. It’s an Avalon-40.” He
gave her a climb-aboard look. “It’s not a high-powered stinkpot.”
“I know.” Her nerves stretched tight. He’d bought the boat of her dreams. “The Avalon doesn’t
have a predatory look with sharp angles. But, make no mistake—”
“The Avalon is fast.”
She pictured its dipping sheerline, curve spoon-bow, and graceful hull. There was nothing soft
below the waterline. She tinged of envy. She couldn’t afford one.
He glanced back to her folder. “Edgar Wedemeyer hand-delivered this memo. He bragged up
your work ethic.”
“I’m deserving.” She’d faced tough situations coming up the ranks. Dismissing accomplishments
was never wise.
“He flaunted your talents. He did tell me your options in production are limited. I suspect he
wants to get rid of you so that you won’t take his job.”
He spoke like a seasoned executive. She wasn’t willing to fight like a greedy shark and took a
long, shuttering breath. “I’m here for the senior analyst position. If I’m not a good fit, I’ll look
elsewhere. I have savings, won’t be living out of a shopping cart any time soon.” She linked her
fingers, twisted them together, and stood to leave. “Thank you for your time.”
He laughed. “Please, sit. I’ve been interviewing candidates all last week. I couldn’t decide
between them. This morning I reviewed your qualifications. The boat I sailed yesterday was one of
your designs. It had amazing components. Your fleet of twenty was manufactured within budget and
under the pollution index for fiberglass.”
Someone had
finally
noticed she understood regulatory complexities. Kitzie felt warm all the way
to the bone.
“I’m offering you the position of senior financial analyst.” He pinned her in place with his
unyielding gaze.
There was no looking away. She wanted to melt into him. It was hard to look beyond his
incredible appeal. She wasn’t going to give herself to him. Not immediately, anyway. “I accept. Can
you give me a heads-up on my first project?”
“You’ll accumulate fiberglass production credits from Air Quality Management. See where we
stand with that limitation.” When he handed her a contract to sign, his smile claimed her.
“I’ll get those figures into a graph by boat type.” She was glad to have something specific to
work on. Of late, her work days had been rudderless.
With precise movements, he reached into his drawer and opened a Kit-Kat bar. He held it up
for her to see. It wasn’t the first time he broke it and put half in her mouth. “We’ve got a deal.”
She admired his teeth, almost perfect without the braces advantage. Crunching on his half of the
chocolate, she found herself sipping his cold coffee as she read the small print. The flutter in her
stomach wasn’t due to hunger. “Gar, I’m not reporting to you.”
“Not on paper. As a consultant, I’m unnamed.” He patted her knee.
She noticed his lingering hand. His fingers, warm and reassuring, covered her knee and sent
pleasurable sensations to other parts of her body. “This means we can fool around, and I won’t get
in trouble for it. Naturally, I’ll lie about it.” She signed her name under her nearly doubled salary and
enjoyed kidding with him.
“You’re not married?”
She looked up at the face made up of handsome masculine planes.
“Involved?”
“Not at the moment.”
“Good. This time around, we’ll turn the tables. I’ll take
you
for a walk on the wild side.” The
wake of his smile remained with deepened lines around his eyes.
“Sorry, I wasn’t serious about turning you into a mate.”
“What are you doing for lunch?”
“Today you’ll attend a company-wide lunch at the marina. Purpose is twofold, but one is to
welcome you. Noon sharp.” She had an hour to organize it.
“The hike is downhill and less than a block. Want to walk it with me?”
His nearness was intoxicating. She felt the warmth of his shoulder through her sleeve-covered
arm. “Thanks, but Edgar and the head of advertising will pick you up and walk you down. I’ll see
you there.” She hugged her wool blanket.
He inhaled sharply, and then leaned in so close she could see the fan of long lashes shielding his
dark eyes. “Kitzie, I can tell by the atmosphere around here, I have few supporters. Don’t take off
on me.”
She stared into his eyes, the rims almost outlined in black. She was appalled at the man he’d
become, but if anyone had the skill to save Naiad, it’d be him. “I won’t. You’re an absolutely perfect
boss.”

Agitated with thoughts of Kitzie, he’d done next to nothing in the last hour. Violent ripples of
affection grabbed him in the gut, and then sent panicky messages of commitment to his brain. He
was sipping a cup of industrial strength sludge when he heard a sharp rap on his office door. “Come
in, Miss Hudson.”

“Please call me Sedona. I’m feeling matronly enough.” She waved a page of ocean blue stock.
“What have you got there, Sedona?”
“This is an invitation for a company-wide lunch. It’s today and in your honor, sir.” She waddled

toward his desk and dropped it.
“Thank you.” He watched the pregnant woman toddle back to her post which was a reminder to
always use precautions. Maybe by now Kitzie used birth control pills. He’d ask. He sure as hell
wasn’t ready for a Piermont-style ball and chain.
He’d met her a dozen years before. During their junior and senior years in high school, he’d
constructed her life summary with names, events, and dates. He knew about the debutant ball, the
ballet lessons, and the cheer camp where she’d learned to be a flyer. She was the great-granddaughter
of Black-French settlers, as close to aristocracy as could exist in southern California. Even though
her parents had squandered their wealth, the imprint of privilege remained.
Perusing the Naiad letterhead, he identified her spiked handwriting under a quick sketch of a
sailboat, underlined with a loopy wave of glitter-glue. He found it engaging.

Please come to a companywide
Welcome Aboard, Name-a-Boat Luncheon for
CEO Consultant, Garrett Mackenzie
Noon Today!
Woody’s at the Wharf, next to Landings Marina
Iced Tea, Lemonade, and Wraps Provided

The event caught him by surprise. His fear of commitment dissipated with a final gulp of muddy
brew. As usual, he felt socially inept around her. There was no such animal as a boat-naming party.
He had a sneaking suspicion she’d come up with it on the spur of the moment. She’d done it for
him.

She’d retained her flare to attract and push him away at the same time. She tantalized him like no
other woman, tearing at his core, making him think about her and nothing else. He knew better than
to jeopardize what was truly important. He had a responsibility to Mr. Biltmore and the Naiad
stockholders to turn the place around. If he couldn’t do that, forty percent of the town’s population
would lose their jobs.

He and Kitzie’s backgrounds were as different as night and day. He was reared by his barely
surviving grandparents, but Nana and Poppy had high expectations. Kitzie did as she pleased
without boundaries, something only money could buy. Yet, wherever she was, she sparkled.

He cracked his knuckles but smiled to himself, thinking about the way she used to compliment
him. “Good manners” were her words.
By the time prom rolled around, he’d flipped burgers overtime with plans to take her in style.
When another guy got there first, he couldn’t face going.
So much time had gone by. A full ride at Cornell was followed by an offer from one of the bigeight accounting firms in New York City. He’d lost touch with Landings Beach when Nana and
Poppy moved east to be near him. When it came time for their ten-year reunion, he felt too far
removed to attend. No doubt, she’d danced on a table or two.
He’d taken note of her office demeanor, professional. She wouldn’t dance on one at the wharf.

Back in her cubicle, Kitzie set to packing. With no time to waste, she cleared her desk of surface
paraphernalia and transferred contents of her file cabinet to boxes next to a trolley. She fit a lid over
the last box.

A young man from tech support breezed in. “I’m here to disengage your computer and other
electronics. I have just enough time before the big shindig.”
“Yikes.” She flipped open her cell to check the time. Her brain kicked in and responded with a
shot of adrenaline. She hurled to her feet and snatched her messenger bag. With her long skirt
flapping around her calves, she dashed toward the executive office.
Sedona was peering into her compact mirror when she saw her coming.
“Can you join me, Sed, on a drive to the wharf?”
“Sure.” Still picking at her bangs, she rounded her cherry desk. “This feels like great big power
day!”
“I’ve heard pregnancy makes a woman feel mentally expansive.” She told herself to be flexible,
eclectic. Not everything in the day had to fit, she decided as she gazed at Sedona.
Sedona’s silver chain earrings swung as they crossed the employee parking lot. “We finished
decorating the baby’s room in yellow. Our apartment complex put in a new playground, pretty nice
for Stucco City Park.”
“Oh, fun. You’ll be using the baby swing.” Kitzie clicked open the car doors of her red Ford
hybrid and glanced up the hill at the low income housing, dubbed Stucco City Park by the locals.
She put her bag in the backseat and got in.
With her seven-month bump, Sedona managed to get into the passenger seat and shut the door.
She turned in her seat to look at Kitzie. “Your go-for-it attitude is rubbing off. I didn’t think we’d be
the ones putting this on. It’s like, hello, Mackenzie
is
CEO. Department heads knew Mr. Biltmore
had set aside funds for this, yet no one rose to the occasion.”
“It’s hard to welcome the guy in charge of cutbacks.” Kitzie turned the key, and they moved
around rows of cars and then out of the parking lot. They crossed a road, and then headed through
the entrance of the wharf. Passing a dry dock lot, wheels kicked up gravel, and she saw the glint of
the ocean.
Sedona stared at the waterfront and frowned. “God, I’m nervous. Can a small restaurant make
hundreds of wraps in an hour?”
“Woody has a speedy method when it comes to making wraps. His staff will use prepared salads.
Nothing fazes him. He has sound judgment and simplicity of mind.”
Woody owned the property, the building, and the section of the wharf attached to it. In Kitzie’s
mind, his rustic fisherman attire turned him into a modern-day Tolstoy. He’d been the first on the
scene of her parents’ accident and had kept in touch through its messy aftermath. She’d appreciated
how he’d kept their discussions confidential. That wasn’t because of life insurance payments. There
weren’t any. Broke by then, her parents hadn’t paid the premiums. Woody was a friend, deserving of
the business she sent his way. She pulled into a space beside his Jaguar.
Out of the car at the same time, they trudged through the employee door at the back. “Woody?
Hello!” Kitzie roared above the clatter. His staff was scrambling. She empathized with the kitchen
crew’s mission. She walked among them, thanking them.
Woody appeared. “Ladies. It’s a monster job, but we’re almost there. You must be Sedona. I
have a special chair for you, dockside.”
“Thank you.” She handed Woody the check.
Kitzie sniffed the kitchen’s pleasant scent of fresh basil and lemon. “We embedded a twenty
percent tip for your crew’s efforts.” She knew Grayson Biltmore would have commissioned the
country club, but Woody’s lemonade and wraps for the entire company would underprice the
vintage wine and pressed duck for department heads and middle management only.
The older gentleman’s smile was slow and genuine. “Come. Let me show you our setup.”
To her, his soul was revealed in his face. He’d observed her parents’ accident. They’d talked at
length, and she’d argued the privacy issue. All these years, Woody had kept her secret below the
town’s radar.
“Thank you for accommodating us.” Sedona’s voice was light. “I’m relieved the event is in
motion.”
They walked through the restaurant to the pier. Palm fronds rustled in huge pot. Bougainvillea
climbed up trellises in a wide planter. Too shallow for waves, the seawater lapped at the pilings.
Ropes creaked, and the ping-ping sound of sail lines tapping against masts as boats bobbed in their
moorings filled the air.
Kitzie glanced at the sailboats, a habit she’d developed to access Naiad’s competition. While
studying the curve of a hull, she spotted a tall African American man in his sixties. She’d seen him
before when she’d stayed late at the office a month before. From the parking lot, she’d watched him
enter the Boatworks. He was way too fast for lock picking. She’d summoned the cops. By the time
they’d arrived, he was gone.
Like before, he moved quickly. His neatly clipped hair glistened like platinum steel wool. His
shoulders were broad and square, his stomach ample but not fat. Now, with the advantage of
daylight, she recognized Private Investigator Leviticus Blake, husband to teacher-of-the year Mae
Han. Determined to talk with him before he got away, she scooted down the pier, hoping to take
him by surprise.
He looked up. Above wire-rimmed glasses, his eyebrows lifted.
“PI Blake, am I right?” She clenched her hands, having made her direct ambush.
“Just moseying, looking at boats for sale. My day’s open.” He looked relaxed, and his baritone
voice sounded caring.
She wasn’t convinced he could be trusted. “Keeping an eye on Naiad employees?”
“Let’s just say, the folks need looking after.” He faced the masses milling about the wharf.
“Maybe some of them misbehave.”
“Feel free to spy on us at a closer range.” Given the opportunity, she thought she’d come up
with questions. “Join us for lunch?” When she glanced down the pier at Woody, she didn’t think
she’d have that opportunity. Taking a drag on a cigarette, he came up beside them.
“Hey there, Leviticus.” Woody shook the man’s hand and then turned to her, blowing twin
streams of smoke through his nose. “Kitzie, the Wedemeyers’ boat is tied up with bumpers, right in
front. We’ve mustered up deck chairs. You’ll find Sedona on one of the adjustables. All that’s
holding us up is they don’t know how many wraps with mustard and how many without.”
She knew mustard was available in packets and caught his hint. “I’ll tell them to serve it on the
side.”
Woody acknowledged her with a slow nod and then offered the detective a cigarette. He
snapped his lighter, cupped his hand and lit the cigarette up, and handed it to the PI.
Kitzie focused on the boat-naming occasion, having but one wish. “Woody, we won’t need a
champagne bottle to crash on the bow. It’s a pet peeve of mine.”
“It’s mine, too, Kitzie.” His full face was rosy, his girdle broad, but she knew his mental activity
was robust. “Later.” Woody bunched up with Leviticus as she turned to go.
Her spirits lifted as she took in the festive wharf. Plastic tablecloths fluttered in the breeze.
Waiters rolled out ice-clanking pitchers of fresh lemonade, iced tea, and platters of glorious wraps.
She passed by Sedona. “You look as comfortable as a queen.”
“Queen Sedona likes her throne. Where’s Woody?”
Kitzie laughed. “He’s avoiding our pompous boat christening.”
“Doesn’t sound like you like them much either.” Her frown begged for an explanation. “I’ve
never attended one.”
“It’s an old custom to name a boat while breaking a bottle across the bow. I don’t like glass
dropping into the ocean. It’s an environmental hazard.” She recalled the time Thor had cut his paws
padding along the beach.