Free A Rather Curious Engagement by C. A. Belmond

painting done in three distinct shades of blue: near-turquoise for the endless sea; deeper azure for the broad horizon; and a soft pale baby-blanket blue for the wide-open sky.
    I breathed it all in, watching the way the gently bright sunlight kisses everything in sight, illuminating the glowing colors within the puffy white clouds, the terracotta roof tiles, the pink stone-work, the lush greenery and the riotous color of each flower. The sea sparkled as if it were flecked with diamonds, and the salty air made me want to swim with the little golden fishes that dart around in small coves all along the coastline.
    In order to be on time for our appointment to view the yacht, we actually drove straight to the harbor in Nice, even before going to reopen Great-Aunt Penelope’s villa. Jeremy was already pre-registered as a bidder, and the organizers of the auction were smart enough to make sure that they spaced the appointments well apart, so that we never saw anybody else who was interested in bidding on it.
    We pulled into the parking area that lined the harbor, which was shaped like a horseshoe. Ringing the harbor from across the road were picturesque three-story pastel-colored buildings with cafés and bistros at street level. At the far end of the quay was a yacht club. The boats were all either berthed at the pier or, as with the bigger ones, anchored farther out in the harbor.
    When I opened the car door and inhaled the scent of the sea, I felt the immediate urge to jump aboard a boat and be a part of the nautical fun and frolic. All along the quay, the atmosphere was festively clubby, as if everyone here was in on a great secret about belonging to the world of the sea. Just the sound of the waves splashing against the hulls, and the seagulls cawing, and the shouts of men who were hosing down their decks, filled me with anticipation of great voyages and adventures.
    A tall, very elegant Frenchman who represented the auction house was waiting at the yacht clubhouse to show us around. He was dressed in a simple, well-cut sleek blue suit, and he greeted us with an impeccable French politeness that had an easy, human undertone which could elevate any task into an important achievement. He told us that his name was Laurent.
    “This way, please,” he said in a well-modulated voice. As he led us past the other boats, I noted all the different fanciful names, and the flags from countries far and wide: from Norway, England, the Netherlands, the Caribbean, Argentina and of course, France. And then, there she was, tucked snugly into her slip between two larger boats— Liesl’s Dream.
    In a way, I kind of wished I hadn’t seen her before the auction. Because, right at first sight I could tell that Liesl’s Dream was the perfect boat for two romantics like us. Even from a distance, its old-fashioned design gave it an instant, cozy charm, and, though sleek and seaworthy, she had an air of being not just a boat, but a home. The sun glowed warmly on the elegant burnished-wood exterior and gleaming brass rails, making the yacht stand in quiet contrast to all the large modern silver-and-white aluminum and plastic that surrounded it. The decks on both the main and the upper levels had chairs and tables stacked and arranged as if politely awaiting the order to cast off; the pilot house—a cute, boxlike structure sitting on the top-level deck—had spanking-clean windows from which to view your path to the wider world; and the French flag fluttered in the breeze.
    As we walked up the gangway or passerelle , I had that brief delicious feeling of being suspended between land and sea, wobbling a little until I hopped onto the boat, which felt substantial and welcoming. Laurent led us around, explaining that this beauty had been built in Italy, and he paused to point out the many excellent features. Jeremy would look to me for affirmation, and I nodded to confirm that everything was authentic, including the precious teak and mahogany that