never got into any trouble—at least none he told us about.”
The image of a fair-haired boy popped into Beth’s head. Jacob Steele had been the unofficial leader of the River Rats, the golden boy of Riverbend. Even though he was Abraham’s son, he wasn’t allowed to bring any friends onto the boat that Abraham considered his private retreat. That hadn’t stopped the River Rats from using it when he was out of town.
“That’s another thing that bothers me about this bequest,” she told him. “Besides the fact that we’ve been divorced for fifteen years and shouldn’t be sharing anything, Charlie and I shouldn’t get the boat. It should go to Jacob. He was Abraham’s son.”
“A son who didn’t even come home for his father’s funeral,” Ed reminded her.
“Whatever happened between him and his father must have hurt him deeply. Jacob’s not the kind of guy to turn his back on his family without good cause.”
“None of the River Rats are, Beth. Sure, we got into a few scrapes when we were growing up, but we were all pretty good kids.”
“Abraham must have thought we were special. He included all of us in his will,” she said, running a finger along the shiny countertop.
He chuckled. “Yes, I now have a vintage 1957 Chev and you have half a houseboat.”
“At least your gift will fit in your garage. I don’t have a lake or a river for mine.”
“Then it’s a good thing you’re spending the rest of the summer here.” He waved a hand at her. “Come. I’ll show you a few things.”
She followed him around the cabin and listened as he explained the water system and electrical circuits. “If you get too warm and don’t want to open the windows, you can turn on the air-conditioning. The control’s next to the instrument panel,” he said, slipping into the captain’s seat to point out the various gauges.
“For someone with no experience of houseboating, you sure seem to know an awful lot.” She eyed him suspiciously.
He gave her a sheepish look. “I have a little experience,” he admitted. “I was here with Charlie one day recently and we took a ride on the river.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Without asking me?”
“I only went because I wanted to protect your interest. It was my duty as your legal representative.”
Beth thought it was more likely that he went along because he wanted to spend time with Charlie. She didn’t tell him that, however. She might not be able to stop her brother from remaining friends with her ex-husband, but she certainly didn’t have to hear the details of their friendship.
“The master bedroom’s in here,” Ed told her, opening a door on the other side of the bathroom.
“It’s all right. You don’t have to show me.” The last thing she wanted was to look inside the room where she and Charlie had made love—even if it had been remodeled since.
“Where are you going to sleep?”
“Aren’t there beds below?”
He led her down a small flight of steps to the lower cabin, which had two bunks, both covered by brightly patterned quilts in a kaleidoscope of colors. There was also a small cedar chest and a built-in wardrobe.
“This isn’t quite as fancy as the master bedroom,” Ed commented as she opened a narrow closet.
“No, but it’s cozier.” She sat down on one of the beds to test its firmness. “I think I’ll feel less like an intruder down here.”
“You have every right to be here, Beth,” Ed stated firmly.
“So you keep telling me, but for whatever reason, I still feel like I’m sneaking onto a houseboat that’s off-limits.” She stretched her arms over her head, then sighed. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m just tired. What time should I expect you in the morning?”
“How about if you give me a call when you wake up? That way if you want to sleep in a bit later than usual, it won’t matter. You have your cell phone, right?”
She nodded. “It’s in my purse.”
“Good. Now lock the door behind me and get a good night’s sleep.” He gave her a kiss on the cheek, said good-night, then headed back to his Jeep.
After twelve hours in the car and with a headache throbbing in her temples, Beth wanted to follow her brother’s orders, but ever since she’d stepped on the boat, she hadn’t been able to shake the uneasiness that lingered from her past. Even though remodeling had made the Queen Mary barely recognizable, it was still the place where she’d made what had turned out to be the biggest mistake of her life.
She squeezed her eyes shut, refusing to give in to the temptation to remember that night fifteen years ago. She was tired, she needed sleep, and she would not let the past haunt her. Not now. Not here.
Taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes and put an Enya CD in the stereo system, allowing the soothing sounds to flow around her. And just in case Enya failed to lull her to sleep, she pulled a bottle of pain-relief tablets from her purse. When she opened the refrigerator to get a can of mineral water, she saw one lone beer on the bottom shelf. Michelob. Charlie’s favorite.
Seeing that can was a reminder that he had been on the houseboat only a few days earlier. He’d walked barefoot on the carpet that was beneath her feet, stood on this very spot with the door open, contemplating the contents of the refrigerator.
“We’re not trespassing, Beth,” he’d told her when she’d expressed reservations about being on the boat the night of the spring formal. “Abraham said I could use the place if I wanted. That’s why I have a key.”
She remembered the smile on his face, the gleam of desire in his eyes as he’d pulled her along the wooden pier. It hadn’t taken much convincing to get her to spend the night with him on the boat. Little had she known that that one night would bring so many changes to her life.
Her dress had cost a small fortune—a sapphire-blue satin off-the-shoulder gown that had swished when she walked. And after two hours at Clip Curl and Dye, she had never felt more confident. One of the stylists had managed to make her short boyish curls look glamorous and chic, her makeup as professional as a cover girl’s. But it was the glitter that Beth had loved. It had dusted her bare skin in a most enchanting way.
She remembered the look on Charlie’s face when he’d picked her up for the dance. She’d fantasized a guy looking that way at her—as if she were the only girl in the world for him.
Then her dad had barked, “Don’t forget she’s only sixteen, Charlie.”
She could have died of embarrassment. Because she’d been accelerated, she was the youngest in her class. All the other girls were seventeen and eighteen. Academically it had been easy fitting in with the older girls, but socially she’d had problems. Having eighteen-year-old Charlie Callahan as her date for the dance was her chance to be accepted, and she didn’t need her father to throw a bucket of cold water on the evening.
Not that he
