with me.” There was no reason she couldn’t. It was stupid to risk their lives out of convention, or because she was too nervous to ask for what she needed. “I wish I could be sure.”
“That’s just it,” said Owen. “It’s the uncertainty of every action. Every choice is a threat. I don’t want to stay shut up in my condo, trying to decide if a breath of fresh air is worth risking my life. I’m going to leave while I still can.”
“Wow.” She envied him the wherewithal to make and enact such a bold plan. She waited for her son to take her hand before she started walking again.
“Yes,” said Owen. He paused behind her to tie his shoelace, but then he was quickly strolling apace. “It’s kind of a ‘wow’ thing.”
Noah started babbling his amazement as they approached the marina. Dozens of moored boats bobbed in their slips, and the water dappled in the afternoon sun. Manhattan’s skyscrapers gleamed across the Hudson. Noah wanted to dash ahead, but Sarah kept a tight hold on his hand.
“No running,” she said.
“Okay.” For a second, he pulled on her arm like a swinging monkey, but then he began walking normally. There was no sign of the morning’s illness. They waited while Owen spoke to a man in the office, who came out with a packet of papers on a clipboard and a key that he used to lock the office behind him.
“You won’t find better in this price range,” the man said. He had a gruffness that Sarah found suggestive of honesty as he shook her gloved hand. His button-down shirt was open at the collar. “You’re looking at three cabins, two convertible berths in the dining area, and a ton of hidden storage.”
He was peddling the features, not the boat, Sarah decided. When the man started citing fuel capacity and nautical miles per hour, Owen launched into an elaborate series of questions. He was taking a lot of notes in a worn leatherbound journal.
“Why are the current owners selling?” she asked.
The man shrugged. “It’s a lot of work owning a boat,” he said. “Especially if you don’t use it much. The current owner is retired, but his health isn’t so good.”
They followed him along the docks until they came almost to the end, where a smallish ketch sailboat was moored. White with navy blue trim, the name Buona Fortuna swirled on its side.
“ ‘Good luck,’ ” Sarah translated aloud, though she knew she didn’t need to. The sunlight glinted off rigging that ran in perfect geometry from its two masts to the deck. “It’s really kind of beautiful, isn’t it?”
“It is,” said Owen.
“Forty-two feet,” said the man. “Steel hull.” He had a beard, another detail which Sarah considered and weighted on the side of integrity. Being put into the position of an advisor for a major expenditure was making her listen to her instincts rather more than was warranted. “It’s Dutch construction,” he went on. “Nothing more reliable than that.”
“Is there a transferrable warranty?” asked Sarah.
“No, it’s too old for that by a long shot,” he said. “Though we could check on some of the upgraded components.” He glanced at Owen, who was considering the boat, arms folded. “It’s very seaworthy. A family of four sailed her all the way around the globe.” He turned back to Sarah. “This was their only home for years, so as you can imagine you can make it quite comfortable for yourselves.”
Sarah realized the man assumed she was Owen’s wife, and Noah his son. When she looked at Owen, there was the crinkle of a smile around his eyes.
Aboard Buona Fortuna, Noah climbed in and out of the berths and dragged Sarah in to see the miniature bathroom. After, she stood in the middle of the tiny galley kitchen and marvelled over its design.
“It’s so clever,” she said. She fingered the faucet on the small double sink before running her palm along the handle of the miniature oven. “I think it might be more functional than the one in my apartment.” She glanced at Owen, wondering if he could guess how little use she made of it. Surprised, too, by the sudden guilt she felt. Noah knew all their favourite takeout menus by heart. But what did it matter? He was happy and healthy. And Owen was busy poking around.
“I have to go to the bathroom,” Noah said in his lisping way to the man. “Is that okay?”
“What’s that?” The man stared. “What did he say?”
“He’s