Sail Away

“He just had a damned good attorney,” Victor grumbled, snagging his jacket from the back of his chair. “But that’s over and done with.”

“Then why’re you still paranoid?”

“I’m not paranoid,” he snapped. “Just careful. Come on, I’ve got to check things out at the marina, see that the repairs on the Vanessa are up to snuff. We can talk on the way.”

“Okay,” she muttered, barely holding on to her temper. “But you can’t just toss my resignation into the trash and expect me to forget all about it. I’m serious, Dad.”

“You don’t know what you want.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” she said quietly.

The firmness in her tone must have caught his attention. His head snapped up and for the first time since he’d entered the office, he seemed to see her as she really was. His lips pursed tightly and beneath his tan his skin took on a paler hue. “Let’s go,” he said, his voice much lower.

He didn’t even bother changing from his casual pants and sports coat.

In tense silence they strode abreast through the corridors to the elevator. Marnie barely kept herself from quaking at his anger. He was a handsome man, a man who accepted authority easily. His features were oversized, his hair thick and white with only a few remaining dark strands, his eyes intense blue, his nose aristocratic. For a man pushing sixty he was in good shape, with only the trace of a paunch near his waist-line. And right now he was beginning to seethe.

“I don’t know what’s gotten into you,” he said when the elevator doors had whispered shut and with a lurch the car sped down sixteen floors only to jerk to a stop at the subterranean parking lot.

“I just think it’s time I stood on my own.”

“All of a sudden?”

She slid a glance in his direction. “It’s been coming on a long time.”

“Ever since that business with Drake,” he surmised with disgust.

“Before that,” she insisted, though it was true that nothing had been the same since Adam Drake had been fired. There had been a change in attitude in the offices of Montgomery Inns. Nothing tangible. Just a loss of company spirit and confidence. Everyone felt it—including Victor, though, of course, he was loathe to admit it.

“And then you decided to break up with Kent,” her father went on, shaking his head as he searched the pocket of his jacket for his pipe. “And now you want to leave the corporation, just walk away from a fortune. When I was your age, I was—”

“—working ten-hour days and still going to night school, I know,” Marnie cut in. Her heels clicked loudly against the concrete. Low-hanging pipes overhead dripped condensation, and she had to duck to escape the steady drops as she hurried to keep up with her father’s swift strides.

She stopped at the fender of Victor’s Jaguar. He unlocked the doors and they both slid into the cushy interior.

“You should be grateful…”

Marnie closed her eyes. How could she explain the feeling that she was trapped? That she needed a life of her own? That she had to prove herself by standing on her own two feet? “I am grateful, Dad. Really.” Turning to face him, she forced a wan smile. “This is just something I have to do—”

“Right now? Can’t it wait?” he asked, as if sensing her beginning to weaken.

“No.”

“But the new hotel is opening next week. I need you there. You’re in charge of public relations, for God’s sake.”

“And I have a capable assistant. You remember Todd Byers—blond, wears glasses—”

Victor waved off her explanation.

“Well, if he’s not good enough I have a whole department to cover for me.” That was what bothered her most. She didn’t feel needed. If she walked away from Montgomery Inns, no one, save Victor, would notice. Even Kent would get by without her.

Her father fired up the engine and shoved the Jag into reverse. “I don’t understand you anymore.” With a flip of the steering wheel, he headed for the exit. “What is it you really want?”

“A life of my own.”

“You have one. A life most women would envy.”

“I know,” she admitted, her spine stiffening a bit. How could she reach a man who had worked all his life creating an empire? A man who had raised her alone, a man who loved her as much as he possibly could? “This is just something I have to do.”

He waved to the lot’s attendant, then nosed the Jag into the busy streets of downtown Seattle. “A few weeks ago you were planning to marry Kent,” he pointed out as he joined the traffic easing toward the waterfront. Marnie felt a familiar stab of pain. “But now, all of a sudden, Kent’s not good enough. It doesn’t matter that he’s practically my right-hand man—”

“No, it doesn’t,” she said swiftly. Surprisingly, her voice was still steady.

“Why don’t you tell me what happened between you two?” he suggested. “It’s all tied up with this whole new independence kick, isn’t it?”

Marnie didn’t answer. She didn’t want to think about Kent, nor the fact that she’d found him with Dolores Tate, his secretary. Rather than dwell on Kent’s betrayal, Marnie stared at the car ahead of them. Two fluffy Persian cats slept on the back window ledge and a bright red bumper sticker near the back plates asked, Have You Hugged Your Cat Today?

Funny, she thought sarcastically, she hadn’t hugged anyone in a long, long while. And no one had hugged her. At that thought a lump settled in her throat, and she wrapped her arms around herself, determined not to cry. Not today. Not on this, the very first step toward her new life.

Victor switched lanes, jockeying for position as traffic clogged. “While we’re on the subject of Kent—”

“We’re not.”

“He loves you.”

Marnie knew better. “Let’s just leave Kent out of this, okay?”

For once, her father didn’t argue. Rubbing the back of his neck he shook his head, as if he could release some of the tension tightening his shoulder blades. He slid her a sidelong glance as they turned into the marina. Fishing boats, sloops, yachts and cabin cruisers were tied to the piers. Whitecaps dotted the surface of the restless sound, and only a few sailing vessels braved the overcast day. Lumbering tankers moved slowly inland, while ferries churned frothy wakes, cutting through the dark water as they crossed the water.

Her father parked the Jag near the pier and cut the engine. “I can see I’m not going to change your mind,” he said, slanting her a glance that took in the thrust of her jaw and the determination in her gaze. As if finally accepting the fact that she was serious, he snorted, “God knows I don’t understand it, but if you think you’ve got to leave the company for a while, I’ll try to muddle through without you.”

“For a while?” she countered. “I resigned, remember?”

He held up his hands, as if in surrender. “One step at a time, okay? Let’s just call this…sabbatical…of yours, a leave of absence.”

She wanted to argue, but didn’t. Maybe he needed time to adjust. Her leaving, after all, was as hard on him as it was on her.

Her expression softened, and she touched his arm. “You and Montgomery Inns will survive.”

“Lord, I hope so,” he murmured. “But I’m not accepting anything official like a resignation. And I want you to wait just a couple of weeks, until Puget West opens. That’s not too much to ask, is it?” he queried, pocketing his keys as they both climbed out of the car.

Together, hands shoved in the pockets of their coats, they walked quickly along the time-weathered planks of the waterfront. Marnie breathed in the scents of the marina. She’d grown up around boats, and the odors of salt and seaweed, brine and diesel brought back happy childhood memories of when her father had taken as much interest in her as he had in his company. Things had changed, of course. She’d gone to college, hadn’t needed him so much, and Montgomery Inns had developed into a large corporation with hotels stretched as far away as L.A. and Houston.

A stiff breeze snapped the flags on the moored vessels. High overhead sea gulls wheeled, their desolate cries barely audible over the sounds of throbbing engines. Free, she thought, smiling at the birds, they’re free. And lonely.

Her father grumbled, “Next thing I know you’ll be trading in your Beemer for a ‘69 Volkswagen.”

She smothered a sad smile. He didn’t know that she’d sold the BMW just last week, though she wasn’t in the market for a VW bug—well, at least not yet.