Free Making Waves by Lorna Seilstad

along the mast just before she left, had said it all.
    Trip shook his head. He had to remember she wasn’t the student.
    Poor brother. Mark didn’t stand a chance with a sister like that. Although young and a bit impulsive, the boy appeared teachable so far. Trip walked back inside the boat shop and headed for the workshop area. Checking the first of the leather straps on the mast, he nodded. At least the boy hadn’t argued, even when Trip deliberately provoked him. But Mark appeared to give up easily, and that worried him.
    “Hey, Trip, what do you think of your new student? Pretty wet behind the ears, isn’t he?” Harry set down his varnish can and brush and crossed the work area.
    “Yeah, but not any younger than you or me when we first started out.”
    “Eons ago.” He clapped his friend on the shoulder. “But I think it’s the girl you gotta worry about. Did you notice how moony-eyed she got when she just looked at your Endeavor ?”
    Trip checked the tightness of the rest of the leather thongs around the mast. “Can’t blame a lady for recognizing quality.”
    “Do you think the boy will be able to stick with it?” Harry took a seat on a barrel, picked up a splintered piece of wood, and chewed on it like a toothpick. “Those rich boys aren’t used to hard labor.”
    “We’ll see. If he survives tomorrow, then maybe – just maybe – I’ll take him out before the end of the week.”
    Harry laughed. “You’re getting soft. Used to be you’d wait two weeks.”
    “I don’t know. This one seems different.”
    “And you wouldn’t mind getting in good with his sister.”
    Trip feigned ignorance. “Who?”
    “You aren’t fooling me. I saw the way you looked at her, but hey, like you said, you can’t fault someone for recognizing quality. Never saw anyone take to sailing like she did the other day either. You’d have thought she was born on a boat.”
    “Harry!” Captain Andrews bellowed. “What’s this mess?”
    Harry hopped to his feet. “All I ask is that you find out if she has a sister.”

    Roger arrived at the Westing camp in search of Marguerite. His business meeting with the other investors developing Lake Manawa’s Midway ended much earlier than he’d anticipated, and one of the benefits of being a wealthy man was not having to return to the office right away. Noticing her bicycle gone, he rubbed his chin. Last night, she’d said that she and Mark would ride this morning, but since it was almost 2:00, she should have returned long ago.
    Perhaps he could hunt her down. Once they were married, these impulsive wanderings would stop. He’d watched his own father handle his mother’s assertiveness, and he knew that Marguerite’s, too, could be eliminated in time. It was almost a shame. He admired her spunk, but it wouldn’t do in a wife.
    The nursery rhyme “Peter, Peter, Pumpkin Eater” popped into his head. When Marguerite was secured in his pumpkin shell, he would certainly keep her very well. And all the while, he’d be free to enjoy her beauty every day.
    She might never love him, but she would learn to respect him.
    That he could guarantee.

    In asking around for the names of other sailing instructors, Marguerite learned two things. No one else would take her and her brother on as students. And Trip Andrews was considered the best.
    Marguerite also discovered that wandering around with Mark in tow did have its benefits. As long as her brother walked beside her, she could investigate the docks and no one seemed to notice. Even when she perched on one of the railings to watch Trip Andrews’s Endeavor raise its pristine sail and cross the seven-hundred-acre lake, no one said a word. Had she been alone, all sorts of sensibilities would have been ruffled.
    Two small, regal sailboats raced one another across the lake, leaning heavily to the side and skimming lightly across the surface. A few days ago on the boat, a thrill had shot through her. How long would it be before she