Contents ( 66)
- Cover
- Books by Valerie Fraser Luesse
- Title Page
- Copyright Page
- Dedication
- Contents
- Map of Florida
- one
- two
- three
- four
- five
- six
- seven
- eight
- nine
- ten
- eleven
- twelve
- thirteen
- fourteen
- fifteen
- sixteen
- seventeen
- eighteen
- nineteen
- twenty
- twenty-one
- twenty-two
- twenty-three
- twenty-four
- twenty-five
- twenty-six
- twenty-seven
- twenty-eight
- twenty-nine
- thirty
- thirty-one
- thirty-two
- thirty-three
- thirty-four
- thirty-five
- thirty-six
- thirty-seven
- thirty-eight
- thirty-nine
- forty
- forty-one
- forty-two
- forty-three
- forty-four
- forty-five
- forty-six
- forty-seven
- forty-eight
- forty-nine
- fifty
- fifty-one
- Epilogue
- Keep Reading for a Preview of Valerie Luesse’s Next Book!
- Prologue
- one
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
- Back Ads
- Back Cover
He turned his attention to the Madame Queen. This old boat, with its fine mahogany decking and deep-green leather seats, had to be worth a fortune. If he wrecked it, Aunt Gert might send him home in a body bag, but she hadn’t left him with many options.
Peyton climbed in and untied the boat. Sliding into the captain’s seat, he ran his hand along the dashboard, which was beautiful with all the silver gauges and detailing set against rich wood. He started the boat. The rumble of her engine was deep and smooth, like distant thunder. Easing back on the throttle as gently as he could, he felt the boat stop drifting and take command of the water. Soon they were gliding across the harbor, slowly at first but then faster as Peyton found his confidence. Driving the boat felt as natural as breathing.
Stealing glances at downtown St. Augustine from his watery vantage point, he was mindful to keep an eye out for any approaching boats. The scene was unbelievable. A late-afternoon Florida sun was hanging low in the sky, casting its golden glow on the Matanzas River. To his left he could see the historic district with its ancient Spanish architecture just a street crossing from the harbor. To his right were barrier islands that kept the Atlantic at bay. And what a way to see it—the wind in his face, a beautiful boat in his hands, and the water sparkling below, parting for them as they sped up the river. What was it his mother had said about her time alone on the beach here? That first taste of freedom.
The bend was just ahead. Peyton throttled down in case Aunt Gert should catch him speeding and judge him too reckless to ever captain the Madame Queen again. As Finn had promised, Cap’n Davy’s was just ahead on the right. A woman was standing on the dock outside the restaurant. She waved her arms to flag him down.
“You must be Peyton!” she said as he climbed out of the boat.
“Yes, ma’am,” he answered. “Are you Aunt Gert?”
“The legend in the flesh,” she said as she hugged him. Aunt Gert was tall, with warm brown eyes and thick silver-white hair, which was cropped short. From what his mother had said about her, she had to be in her seventies, but her tanned face wasn’t wrinkled at all. She was wearing red-and-white-checked pedal pushers, a short-sleeved white cotton blouse, a wide-brimmed straw hat with a red scarf tied around it, and leather sandals. Beside her was a picnic basket and a small cooler.
“I hear you’ve been havin’ a rough time of it,” she said to Peyton. “No sense hem-hawin’ around it.”
“Yes, ma’am. Mama and Daddy too.”
Aunt Gert nodded. “Well, we can’t do anything about them right now—they’ll have to fend for themselves—but we might be able to salvage your summer. I thought we might start by havin’ an early supper alfresco. Do your Aunt Gert a favor and grab that cooler. I’ll get the picnic basket and we’ll shove off.”