The Hidden Heiress: Married to My Ex's Brother novel · Chapter 22 of 32

Chapter 22: The Last Run

I sat on my kitchen floor with the page in my lap until the window went gray.

I didn't cry.

I'd cried for that night three years ago in a hospital hallway. I wasn't giving it any more.

At six I took a picture of the wire and sent it to Rem.

Your brother sold your father's deal for three million dollars. Brewster paid. Liza brought it to my door.

He called before I could put the phone down.

"Are you all right?"

"No. Yes." I leaned my head back against the cabinet. "There's more. It's not about the money."

I told him about March 9.

He didn't say anything for a long time.

Then, very quietly, "I'm going to kill him."

"Get in line."

"Etta. Does my father see this today?"

"No," I said. "Not on a phone. Not in a study with the door shut. Your brother does his worst things behind doors."

"Then where?"

"In front of everybody. Let me think."

That night the storm came in off the Pacific.

By the 9:40 the bay was white with it. Forty knots, gusting fifty. Rain coming sideways off the Olympics.

Half the evening sailings were already canceled across the Sound.

The operations manager called the wheelhouse.

"Your call, Captain. It's right at the limit. Nobody will blame you if you tie up."

I looked down at the terminal.

Eighty-some people were standing at the glass.

Nurses off the late shift. A father holding a sleeping kid. Two of the shipyard guys.

If I tied up, they slept on the terminal floor.

"We'll run it," I said. "Last boat. Then we're done."

At 9:52 the deckhand kid called up the ladder.

"Captain. The coffee guy's here."

"In this?"

"He's soaked. He says he'll sit in the back row."

I looked out the side window.

Rem was standing on the car deck in a dark coat, rain pouring off him, talking to the old engineer.

The old engineer pointed at a pile of yellow gear.

Rem put on a life vest without being told.

Then he picked up the end of a heavy line and helped the kid flake it on the deck.

He'd never done it before. He did it right.

The crossing out was bad.

The Kittiwake rolled hard enough that coffee cups slid off the galley counter.

A kid threw up. Somebody's dog howled the whole way.

I held her into the swells and talked on the speaker.

"Folks, this is your captain. It's a little bouncy tonight. We'll be at Bainbridge in about twenty minutes. Hang on to your coffee."

On the passenger deck, I learned later, Rem went from row to row handing out paper bags and his own scarf.

We made Bainbridge. The eighty went home.

The ride back was empty and worse.

Coming into the Seattle slip, the wind swung hard onto our beam.

The bow went sideways. The pilings came up fast in the spotlight.

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