By The Sea, Book Three: Laura by Antoinette Stockenberg Read Free Book Online

one of the men who had been hanging
back in the shadows swing around sharply at that. Clearly she had
given offense. Good.
    But the pretty socialite had chosen not to
pick up on Laura's tone. "When will you have the next one?" the
young woman demanded.
    Before Laura could answer, Mr. Patchers had
her hand in his and was pumping it politely. "Don't know when I've
had more fun. Must be shovin' off. Wife'll have a fit .... See you
at the next one Saturday. Bill says at least twice as many cookies
.... Good night, then."
    "Saturday?" Laura stared blankly at the
little man's retreating form as a line of tired but satisfied
customers straggled around her and off the Virginia. She saw
the socialites fall in with them, murmuring among themselves; and
then she heard lilting, private laughter, which she assumed was
about her. In fifteen minutes the schooner was empty, and Laura was
wondering why on earth she'd bothered to paint the scuffed-up
decks.
    ****
    The next evening Sam stopped by after
receiving a note from his wife. "I don't want to make a habit of
this," he warned Laura, still ebullient. "The rest of the crew do
without their women, and so should I. Well: How went the
evening?"
    For an answer Laura dropped a ditty bag of
her own, on which she'd stenciled the name "Virginia," on the cabin
table; it landed with a clinking thud. "It went not too bad," she
answered proudly.
    "The deck looks like you've hauled a load of
granite," he complained, weighing the bag in his hands.
    "The paint hadn't cured enough," she
answered without taking offense. "I'll paint it again—after high
season."
    He frowned. "What the hell kind of season is
a high one?"
    "Summer in Newport," she answered promptly.
"When everything costs the most."
    "Beaches don't cost nothin'," he answered
deliberately.
    "Oh, don't play dense, Sam!" she returned.
"I'm talking about tourism. The Virginia doesn't pay
her way anymore hauling freight. Times have changed, and we have to
change with them: the Virginia will support herself as a
tour boat, I learned that last night. We could hold dances aboard,
or take out sailing parties in the evening, or even overnight to
the Vineyard or Nantucket—"
    "And what do we do the other ten months of
the year? Huddle below and count our money?"
    "We follow the sun and do the same thing
somewhere south," she said, undaunted.
    "Not a chance. There's no money in it, no
more than there is in hauling. I haul cargo to get away from the
bullshit ashore. Cleaning up after some seasick biddy ain't my idea
of a good time."
    He picked up her little bag of coins and
tossed it across the table back to her. "You made a little money,
and you made a little mess. I call it a wash."
    "Sam! There's much more money to be made!
Think about it, please," she implored. "I love the water as
well as you, and I've come up with a plan that will work."
    He narrowed his eyes skeptically. "Do you
remember that newspaper bit you read to me about the beggars in New
York City—that the best of 'em average eight dollars a day? That's
about how much you made. But you need a thirty-ton schooner to do
it with, and they only need a pair of crutches."
    "That's not fair! I'm just getting
started—"
    "Another thing," he said, ignoring her plea.
"One of the fellas told me last night that you need a license for
what you did. Try it again, and you'll have someone from city hall
all over the Virginia. I wouldn't like that," he continued
in his phlegmatic way.
    "A license?" She sat down, fingering the
drawstrings of her bag of coins. "I didn't know that," she said,
embarrassed at her ignorance.
    "Ayuh. Well, even if you had one, the answer
is no. As soon as I finish up on the Rainbow, we'll go back
to making our money the way we always have—haulin'."
    Laura set her chin at a dangerous angle.
"All right. We'll do it your way. But just remember: you said it,
not I."
    ****
    The next day Laura resolved to find a
contract to haul cargo, or die trying. With the earnings from