Spindrift
Table of Contents
Titlepage
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Copyright
About Bywater
For veterinarians everywhere.
And for my wife, who saves lives every day.
Chapter One
Emilia Russo stared at the sailboat. What the hell have I gotten myself into? This whole idea was insane. Then again, so was she, although her therapist had encouraged her to use kinder language to describe herself. Fine. This is just another symptom of my spiral of doom. She rested her hand on her greyhound’s shoulder to steady herself.
“It's just a boat, Nell,” she said. The black dog leaned into her leg in unmistakable animal solidarity. It’s just a boat, she told herself again. She’d sailed it a hundred times with her father. The old wooden rail was smooth with oil from their hands, and the fiberglass hull with its fading paint even bore her name: Emilia Rosa.
That was the catch, though, wasn’t it? She’d sailed it with her father. Now he was gone, the worst of the trifecta of disasters that had marked the past year. Her eyes stung. She would do this for him.
The new engine on the back of the small sailboat reassured her. It had been years since she’d sailed, and with the engine she would worry less about getting lost at sea. First, however, she had to get herself and her dog out to where the boat bobbed peacefully on its mooring in the calm evening water. Rowboats lined the dock. She scanned them, looking for the old blue one she’d grown up with. It wasn’t there. Frowning, she pulled the bowlines of a few of the nearby boats to see if hers had gotten lost in the mix. Her heart plunged when she finally found it.
“Nell,” she said, staring at the decrepit dinghy riding low in the water, a milk jug bail floating in the small pond at the bottom, “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”
The dog watched with interest as Emilia pulled the rowboat closer. It definitely had a slow leak somewhere, and she lay on her stomach on the sun-warmed wood of the wharf as she bailed out the worst of the water. Only then did she dare step into the boat to finish the job. When she was satisfied she wouldn’t sink immediately, she grabbed her bag and tucked it into the driest corner. Then she turned to Nell.
“Your turn.”
Nell’s expression didn’t require translation. Oh hell no, her narrow face said, and she backed up against the end of her leash.
“It’s okay, baby. Come.”
Sixty-five pounds of stubbornness splayed her paws on the deck.
“Nell.” Frustration leaked into her voice, and she took a deep breath. Animals needed their humans to be calm and confident. Unfortunately, Emilia felt neither of those things at the moment.