Сьюзен Виггз - The Lost and Found Bookshop

“Please,” Mom said with a laugh. “This is San Francisco. If I was gay and I wanted a relationship, I’d have a girlfriend.”

Through the years, Natalie had brought up the subject from time to time. “You’ve met some wonderful men,” she’d said one summer when she was home from college and working in the bookstore. “You’re really pretty, Mom, and you’re a total catch—an independent woman with her own business? Guys love that.”

Blythe had laughed. “Hey, I love that. I love my life.”

“What about falling in love with a guy ?” That year, Natalie had been dating a foreign student named Diesel, and she was completely smitten by his clean-cut, chiseled-jaw looks and his mad skills in the bedroom. She’d been convinced that they would marry and have kids and live some undefined fantasy life abroad. Being in love was so heady and addictive that she couldn’t believe her mother managed to do without it.

“Like in a chick lit novel?” Mom grinned. “Been there. Done that. Read the book. And then moved on.” She must have noticed something in Natalie’s expression, because she said, “Listen, I’m in love with my life, my business, my father and May, and my daughter. I have everything I need right here.”

Natalie remembered thinking about that feeling of being in a man’s arms, the intimacy, the orgasms . . . “People always ask me why you’re single,” she’d said. “‘Your mom’s so gorgeous. Why hasn’t some guy swept her away?’ I hear it all the time.”

“And what do you tell them?”

“That you don’t want to be swept anywhere.”

“Ha. I trained you well.”

“Seriously, Mom. Were you so snakebit by Dean that you never want another relationship?”

Blythe had waved away the question. “Honestly, I didn’t even like him that much. I was too young to know my own heart—about the same age as you are now.”

“You’re not too young now,” Natalie had pointed out. “And you’re always pushing me to fall in love. Why me and not you?”

“We’re very different, you and I,” her mom had said. “Your heart was made for love.”

“And yours wasn’t?”

The frustrating conversation had repeated itself in many forms through the years. When Rick had come along, Blythe had been thrilled for Natalie.

Natalie had brought him home to meet her mother, showing him off like a prize tuna from the fishing docks.

“He’s wonderful,” Blythe had declared. “A total keeper.”

Natalie had tugged her aside and confessed her doubts about Rick. “He is wonderful, Mom. But I’m just not sure . . .”

“That’s because your father has been totally unavailable to you all your life. Now you’ve found a man who is available, and it probably feels weird to you. I hope you can learn to trust that he’ll be there for you.”

Dean must have done a number on you , Natalie thought now, scanning the marina as she waited for Trevor. Maybe her mother was onto something. Maybe Dean had conditioned them both to be suspicious of men who made themselves available.

She shivered now, pulling her light sweater more snugly around her. Aw, Mom. I hope you were as happy and fulfilled as you said you were , she thought. And why didn’t you level with me about Dean?

Trevor showed up, panting. “Hey there,” he said. “Sorry to make you wait. I was getting the boat ready.” He looked wonderful in chinos turned back at the ankle, flip-flops, and a striped shirt open at the collar, the sleeves rolled up.

“I was enjoying the views,” she said. “You were right about the weather. What a brilliant evening.”

He led the way to the security gate and entered a code. They went down a ramp to the moorage docks, laid out like the teeth of a comb. Most were lined by slips with sleek sailboats and schooners and power yachts. “I’m so intrigued by boats,” she said.

“Yeah?”

“Uh-huh. Their names and where they’re registered—like that one. Andante. Is the owner musical? Or Italian? And that one over there—from Fiji. How did it get here all the way from Fiji?”

“I could give you answers, but I’m an unreliable narrator.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” A light breeze sang through the masts, and the colors of the sky deepened by the minute into a dramatic swath of amber and pink. They came to the end of a dock, and he stopped at a gleaming boat with a picnic deck and portals aglow from the inside.

“Oh boy,” she said.

“That’s what I said when I saw it. Come on aboard, and I’ll show you around.”

She walked the impressive length of it and checked the stern. Flip Side —Carmel-by-the-Sea. “I don’t know what to say,” she told him. “It’s fantastic.”

“When I moved to Carmel, I decided to get a boat that I could bring to San Francisco.”

“So cool.” Natalie held the polished rail and stepped aboard, and instantly felt as if she’d been swallowed up in luxury. Every surface gleamed, reflecting the water and sky. Soft music thrummed from hidden speakers. There was a lounge area and a bar, and steps leading down to a galley and what she assumed was a stateroom. “Do you run this thing yourself?”

“Sometimes. We’ll just take a short cruise tonight. Sound good?”

“Sounds magical,” she said. “What can I do?”

“Drink this.” He gave her a glass of champagne. “I’ll be right back.”

Trevor started the engine, then brought in the lines. They sat together at the bridge and motored slowly away from the marina. The sun seemed to balance on the horizon, gilding the scenery as it dipped almost imperceptibly. As they headed toward Alcatraz Island, the city slipped past in a glitter of winking lights. Natalie couldn’t resist taking pictures of the gold-tinged scenery. She was tempted to photograph the boat to show Cleo and Bertie, but she didn’t want to be an obnoxious fangirl.

The world looked so different from the water. She found herself thinking about Grandy’s old stories of Julius Harper, shoved out to sea on a barge to escape the burning city. When he’d looked back, what had he seen? The whole world lit by fire, his mother lost in a surge of people. Now the city bristled with skyscrapers, dominated by the bullet-shaped Salesforce Tower.

Trevor switched directions, and they went under the Golden Gate Bridge. She took more phone pictures, capturing the massive towers and web of cables against the twilight.

“It’s really beautiful,” she said. “Thanks for bringing me.”

“Glad you like it.”

She nodded, savoring the last of her champagne. For the first time since the day of the reception at Pinnacle Fine Wines, Natalie had a moment of uncomplicated pleasure. Is this what you wanted for me, Mom? How about you send me a sign?

They glided back across the smooth water to the marina, where he moored the boat and cut the engines. “Make yourself at home,” he said, stepping down into the galley. “I’ve got a snack for us.”

She poked around the main salon, drawn to the bookshelf. “I’ve always believed you can tell a lot about a person based on the books they keep.”

“Yeah? What can you tell about me?”

“Judging by this collection, you’re very practical—all these books on piloting and navigation and boating guides.”

“Shoot, I don’t want to be seen as practical. I want you to think I’m exciting. Romantic. Irresistible.”

She pulled out a thick copy of Chapman Piloting . “I once dated a guy who hid porn behind his collection of classic novels. We didn’t work out so well.” Diesel from college. Recently she’d seen him on an online alumni group. He was paunchy now, with a wife and two kids.