West Wind Read Online Free PDF

folks," he said.
    Walking back to the boatyard, Jay whistled
under his breath. Sam was a good customer. As commodore of the
local yacht club, he often referred Jay's boatyard to its
membership.
    In the two years he and Brett operated the
Warren Boatyard, they kept busy, but busy wasn't enough. They
wanted the big, dramatic restoration jobs that brought national
attention and mentions in popular sailing magazines. The yacht club
had plenty of members and many aging sailboats.
    Brett looked up from the rope he'd been
splicing. "How'd it go?"
    "Perfect. Thanks for giving their son lessons
last week. You should have seen their faces. I swear, they almost
cried watching him sail off into the sunset."
    "Makes it worthwhile, doesn't it?"
    Jay patted the folded check in his T-shirt
pocket. "That and four grand."
     
    * * *
     
    A weekend spent searching the Internet gave
Sabrina's spirit a boost. It turned out that the Zephyrus was now
considered a "Classic Plastic," and enjoyed a cult following. She
learned that Classic Plastic is another way of saying a well-built
fiberglass boat, and that West Wind-designed Zephyrus had timeless
appeal. She found several photographs of the double-ended
daysailer, each identified by hull number. An advanced search
yielded nothing about Hull Number One, her quest.
    She drove downtown to Sullivan's, the local
bookshop, but found in its place a new store named East of Eaton.
She appreciated the shop's name, a play on words and homage to John
Steinbeck's classic novel "East of Eden."
    She pushed open the heavy oak door and
entered a bibliophile's wonderland. Her eyes filled with views of
rows upon rows of new bookcases. A staircase wound its way up to a
cafe. The aroma of fresh ground coffee beans and chocolate chip
cookies assaulted her senses. As she let the door close, she
glimpsed a customer behind her. Too late, she shot her arm to hold
the door open and instead struck the man in the shoulder.
    "Oh, excuse me," she murmured, then froze at
the sight of her girlhood crush.
    Robert Hall glanced at her with impatience,
then paused. "Sabrina?" he asked. "What brings you to Eaton?"
    She flushed and fumbled with an apology. "Oh,
so sorry. Robert Hall? It's been years since I've last seen you.
Rose had a stroke and she's in the hospital. I'm here to take of
her."
    "I'm sorry to hear that," Robert said,
stepping aside to allow yet another customer in the store. "Will
she be alright?"
    Sabrina chewed her bottom lip, twisted her
head away hiding eyes bright with unshed tears. Robert watched as
she shrugged, the simple gesture heart wrenching.
    "Let's step over here," he said, his hand
light on her elbow. He led her to a quiet area of the shop,
shielding her from curious customers' view with his broad
shoulders.
    Not wanting to speak about Rose, afraid she
would lose control and cry, she lifted her chin and asked, "How are
you, Robert? Did you finish law school?"
    He recalled the gangly girl from his summer
job at the local rec center. "Yes. Do you still play tennis?"
    Sabrina rolled her eyes and shook her head.
"No, sorry. Your lessons were wasted on me."
    "Where do you live now?" he asked, studying
the exotic, beautiful woman.
    "I have an apartment in Baltimore where I run
a small financial business," she said, watching as Robert looked
over his shoulder at the woman at the front counter. He nodded
once, as if in silent agreement with her.
    Sabrina assessed the woman, noting her
delicate beauty even from half across the store. Unruly, dark brown
hair crowned her oval face; dark brown eyes watched her
curiously.
    "Is she your girlfriend?" Sabrina asked,
inclining her head.
    Robert fastened his dark eyes on her and
flashed a grin. "No, that's Erica Moore. We're business
partners."
    "So you own a part of this bookstore?"
Sabrina asked, surveying elegant, expensive yet practical
furnishings. "Why am I not surprised?"
    He looked at his watch, already withdrawing.
"I have a client in a few minutes, but I would be