Клэр Донелли - Hiss And Tell

Robin pouted, but she kept her bikini top on, arranging herself as best she could on the padded seat in the stern of the boat for maximum sun. Sunny fiddled with the ends of the blouse she’d knotted along the line of her ribcage. “You think I’m underdressed for this boat ride? I thought we were taking it easy.”

“I think you look fine.” Will himself was wearing an open short-sleeved button-down shirt over a tight tee that made the most of his rangy build, with a pair of cutoffs and boat shoes. “We just have to be aware that other people will be looking—and yeah, judging.”

The boat trip lived up to every promise, offering up glimpses of seals, lighthouses, scenic rocky shores, and sea breezes. But for Sunny, the sudden intrusion of politics had taken something away from the outing—the fun. She felt distracted all through the journey around the islands.

As Ben steered about, heading for home, a large sailing yacht cruised past in the distance, its distinctive red, white and blue canvas billowing on the breeze.

Robin immediately perked up. “Oh, wow, that’s Caleb Kingsbury’s yacht!”

Ben glanced back from his post at the wheel. “How do you know?”

“From TV, silly. It was on Eagle Eye . They did a whole piece on the announcement of his niece Priscilla’s wedding and about the whole family,” Robin said. “The Senator, the governors, and Caleb. The best part was that yacht, I think it’s called the Merlin . It’s named after a pirate ship or something one of his ancestors sent out during the War of 1812.”

“Do you mean a privateer?” Sunny asked. “They were sort of early defense contractors. The government gave them the legal go-ahead to raid and seize cargos from enemy merchant ships.”

“Like pirates.” Robin shrugged. “Whatever you want to call it, that Merlin came home with a hundred thousand dollars.”

“Before inflation,” Will joked, but his eyes grew serious as they followed the vessel, almost three times the size of Ben’s boat. “Kingsbury’s got a lot of nerve, sailing in these waters after what happened.”

“I know, right?” Robin said. “They mentioned that on the show, too, about the girl who drowned under his boat.”

“That cost him his seat in Congress.” Sunny remembered the scandal, which had happened during the summer of her junior year in college. Caleb Kingsbury had been found on top of his overturned boat—the dead girl had been beneath it. “He was just getting ready to run again, but after that, none of his father’s political friends wanted anything to do with him.”

“Well, it couldn’t have hurt him much if he’s out there sailing a fifty-foot schooner.” Ben adjusted their course slightly.

“So what’s the scoop on this celebrity wedding?” Sunny asked.

“You don’t know?” Robin sounded incredulous. “Priscilla Kingsbury is marrying Carson de Kruk in a couple of months. It’ll be the biggest thing to happen around here this fall. Eagle Eye said the families will be spending some time at the Kingsbury estate, getting to know one another.”

Sunny might not be up on the local wedding gossip, but even she knew the name Carson de Kruk—son of multimillionaire Augustus de Kruk. “If Caleb Kingsbury is sailing in for this get-together, I wonder how the de Kruks will make their entrance,” Sunny said. “They’ve got more money than God.”

“Maybe they’ll pile it all up and come parasailing down from the summit,” Will suggested.

“One thing’s for sure,” Ben said, going from sea captain to traffic cop. “Driving anywhere near Wilawiport is going to be a real mess—especially round the Kingsbury compound. They may not be Kennedys or Bushes, but they’re sure to have TV crews and lots of gawkers around. Now I know why I’m being posted up there. I was supposed to keep quiet about it. But if it’s on TV . . .” He shrugged.

They reached the dock where Ben was renting space without spotting any other mysterious schooners, and the two couples parted ways. Will gave Sunny a lift home.

“Do you want to come in?” she asked as they turned onto Wild Goose Drive.

When she saw Will hesitate, Sunny said, “I promise there are no paparazzi hanging around.”

“It’s not that—or you.” Will fumbled for words. “It’s your dad. Whenever he gets hold of me now, he’s full of advice.”

“Well, he kind of considers himself your unofficial campaign manager.” Sunny pointed out.

“Emphasis on the unofficial,” Will said.

“Hey, he and Zach Judson and the other members of the Kittery Harbor political faction got you back here in the first place.”

“I know. It’s just that it’s gotten so complicated.” Will ran a hand through his hair, and made a face as his fingers got stuck.

Sunny grinned. “Yeah, salt water will do that. You know, some folks intentionally spray the stuff onto their hair to get more volume.”

“Well, all it does for me is to make everything clump together.”

She laughed. “Better than the frizz of death, which is what I get. Come and have a quick drink, then you can plead the need to take a shower and escape if Dad gets to be too much for you.”

Will agreed, and together they walked to the front door, then headed into the living room to find Sunny’s dad, Mike Coolidge, sitting on the couch with their neighbor Helena Martinson.

“Well, you two look dry, so I guess Ben Semple didn’t sink the boat on you,” Sunny’s father greeted them.

“No, we had a nice little jaunt,” Sunny assured him, glad to see her Dad looking so well and relaxed. When she’d come home from New York City to tend him after his heart attack, it had been touch and go for a while. But now he was eating healthily and getting in a three-mile walk every day, though his unruly white curls needed a trim, as usual. His piercing blue eyes were fondly aimed at Mrs. Martinson, whom Sunny suspected was the other reason for Mike’s improvement. There were plenty of widows available in town, but her dad had gravitated to Helena, and Sunny could see why. Mrs. Martinson was everything Sunny wanted to be when she grew up—or at least grew older. Petite, graceful, with a figure that Sunny could only envy and blond hair that had somehow gone platinum with age, Mrs. M. was definitely a catch . . . and Sunny was glad that Mike had caught her.

“Kinda nice, being able to sit around without worrying about furry critters underfoot,” Mike said.

Helena nodded. “We had a pet-free day. Your Shadow was out visiting, and I left my Toby playing in my backyard.” She shuddered slightly. “I just hope he hasn’t gnawed his way through the fence or knocked a tree down.”

The ungainly pup Mrs. M. had adopted had grown considerably . . . and didn’t show any signs of stopping yet. Combined with a bumptious puppy-dog personality, Toby’s awkward stage wasn’t always charming.

“I didn’t think they could breed golden retrievers with Godzilla.” Mike shook his head.

“So, did you enjoy your day off?” Mike turned round to include Will in the conversation. “Lord knows you won’t get many until after the primary.”

“Too true. In fact, I was reminded of what can go wrong in a political career,” Will said, “when Caleb Kingsbury went sailing past us.”

“The Kingsburys? They’re definitely out of my league. Now there was a political dynasty still looking for a crown.” Mike shook his head. “Although at least his father, Thomas Kingsbury, reached out to folks in Kittery Harbor the last time he ran. Tom was ‘the Senator’ to everybody, even his kids. He was kind of a stiff old coot, which worked against him in the end. The party, even long-time supporters, dumped him for a younger, more with-it candidate.”