Christopher Nicole - Her Name Will Be Faith

“I can do that, of course. But the Bermuda Race… we have a real chance this year, of winning our section. And we’re a team, with me both skipper and navigator.”

“Michael. You have said you have a chance of winning every year for the past seven, and you never have. Surely some of the others can navigate? Sam could replace you as skipper.”

“Cheers.” He raised his wine glass and drank.

“Cheers! Well?”

“I guess Sam could,” he agreed reluctantly. “Larry could navigate…”

Jo noted the reluctance with a sinking feeling. Would this mean a ghastly summer holiday, with Michael sulking all the time because she had dragged him away from his sport? “You have no idea how much fun it is down there,” she said. “All the family — Marcia is certain to bring Benny down to show off the house — and Lawson and Belle always come up from Nassau…” she paused. “It all boils down to a matter of loving, doesn’t it?” she asked, without taking her eyes from her plate. “Which do you love more, your wife and kids, or your yacht?” He didn’t answer, but she felt his eyes on her, and looked up. Her heart lurched as she whispered, “Michael? How important to you is our marriage? Do you want to save it, honestly, or do you want us to split up?”

His eyes closed momentarily, hiding his thoughts. He drained his glass and a waiter immediately stepped forward to take the bottle from the ice bucket, and dry it on a napkin before refilling both glasses.

When the man retreated, Michael held the tips of Jo’s fingers and looked at her rings — the big emerald-cut diamond solitaire left to him by his grandmother and given to Jo on their engagement, the diamond eternity he had bought her when Owen Michael was born, and the plain platinum wedding band he had slid, nervously, on her finger in the splendid surroundings of St James’s, Piccadilly, in front of a vast congregation of family and friends… what a let-down it would be to everyone, not least himself, to admit the marriage had failed.

His eyes held hers as he whispered back, “My dearest Jo, our marriage, our love, is far more important than anything else in the world. It’s a deal. I promise to cut back on the time I spend on Esmeralda. And I will hand over to Sam for the Bermuda Race.”

Tears of happiness stung her eyes as she said, “And I promise to cut back on my journalism.”

Their lips met above their climbing wine glasses, while the headwaiter and his team stood watching benevolently.

The phone purred beside Jo, and she flicked the open switch, unwilling to spare a hand from the article she was composing on Richard Connors. “Josephine Donnelly, good morning.”

“Jo? Marcia here. How’re you doing?” Her happy voice trilled out of the box.

“Never better. How about you? What’s new?”

“Something fantastic. I’ve got to tell you all about it. Are you busy right now?”

Jo looked down at her pad; there was a lot to be done, and Ed wanted this on the press by Friday. But Marcia sounded so excited and eager to relay her good news. “Not too busy. What’s happened?”

“Can I come over for a coffee?”

“Sure, little sister. Any time.”

“Like right now?”

“I’ll meet you at the place on the corner.”

“Ten minutes. ’Bye.”

Jo sighed, and folded her pad away. Ten minutes later Marcia rushed into the coffee shop, panting. “I’m so excited I could die.” The disheveled young blonde squealed as she pranced in and planted herself in the chair across the table.

Jo giggled, and signaled the waitress to bring another coffee. “Okay, so what’s it all about?”

“It’s so fabulous I don’t know where to start.”

“Try the beginning, sweetie.”

“Well… you remember I told you that Benny’s mother owned an apartment building?”

“Yes.” Jo wrinkled her nose. She hadn’t seen the house, but knew it was in Greenwich Village and in rather a run-down state.

“Well, the two guys who were renting the basement have moved out, owing two months’ rent, so Annamarie has repossessed it. Now she says we can have it.”

“Oh, how super.” Not quite as exciting as Jo had expected.

Marcia saw her expression and grinned. “But that’s not all. The lease on the first floor ends in two months, and the old darling says she won’t renew it, so we can have that, too.”

Jo frowned. “What are you going to do with two apartments?”

“Steady, girl, steady; that’s not all, either. The old chap on the second floor is in hospital. His wife says he has terminal cancer, and so she is leaving to keep house for her brother. Isn’t it fantastic, all that happening at once? So Benny’s mother says we can have the whole house.”

“Gee, Marcia, that’s fabulous. But the rent…”

“No, no, she’s not renting it to us. She’s giving it! We thought she meant selling it, and we didn’t think we could raise that kind of money, but she says she has enough income from her other houses; seems Benny’s father left her three. So she’s making the deeds of the house over to us. And,” she went on as Jo made to congratulate her, “there’s more yet.” She opened her purse and produced a sapphire and diamond engagement ring. “Benny says that if we want to be respectable home owners, we’ll have to get married and have children. Look what he bought me with the money he got from the sale of that purple and red sea scene.” She slipped the ring on to her finger and held it up to the light. “We are now officially engaged.”

“Marcia! How absolutely marvelous.” Jo leaned across the table to give her sister-in-law a kiss. “Congratulations, Babe, congratulations. Have you told your folks?”

“Not yet. I telephoned Babs and told her we’d like to come out tomorrow night. Can you and Michael come?”

“Sure we can.”

“Because Belle and Lawson are flying up from Nassau, and Dale has promised to be there too. We’ll surprise them.”

“Big Mike will blow his mind.”

“I guess he will. We’re taking Benny’s mother, too. We’ll have a surprise family party.”

“And I’ll prepare the food,” Jo said excitedly. “Over at the cottage where Babs won’t see it.”

To think that only a few days ago she had been the most miserable woman in New York.

“Run, woman, run! Move your fat ass,” Big Mike shouted, then threw his racket into the air. “Christ! She’s missed it. Would you believe it?”

“Will you shut up, you big turkey? If you hadn’t played the ball right on to Neal’s racket when you had an open court…” Babs laughed as she went up to the net to shake Meg’s hand. “Anyway, you’d have beaten us in the end. You were just too good for us today. Thanks for a lovely game.”

There was applause from the gallery. Jo and Michael, who had arrived with the children and sat watching the final set, rose to greet the players as they came off the court.

“Lovely of you to call round.” Babs kissed her eldest son. “Let’s all go inside for a drink.” The court had been leveled out of the gentle slope behind Pinewoods, and the sun had begun to dip towards the surrounding trees. “Were you thinking of staying for supper?” Babs asked Jo as they walked down the gravel path together. “I haven’t anything very interesting in the house, as Mike and I had thought of going out. Could you come with us?”

“Bit difficult with the children,” Jo hedged. “But I’ve quite a nice lasagna ready at the cottage. I can pop back and fetch it, later. Won’t take me more than five minutes,” she lied, picturing the vast feast she, and Marcia had prepared and which the latter was looking after, while she and Michael paved the way for the big surprise. They had to be sure Babs and Big Mike were at home when Marcia and Benny walked in.