All The King's Horses: A Tale Of Eternal Love (4 page)

“There’s quite a bit of damage I’m afraid. Especially down below. I’d say a conservative estimate would be sixty to seventy thousand dollars.”

Kent’s heart sank. “The insurance would cover about half that I suppose. But I don’t know where I’ll get the rest from.”

“Bank won’t extend your mortgage?”

“No. They made it plain to me the last time I extended it that it would the last time they’d allow it.” He leaned over the guard rail and peered at the hole in the Bonnie Lass’s hull. “Of all them rotten luck,” he fumed. “If I could just have held on till the summer when business picked up I would have been okay. No chance of that now.”

Life just didn’t seem fair. He looked around the marina at all the millionaires’ boats sitting unscathed on their moorings and felt a tinge of anger. Why couldn’t it have been one of their boats that took a hit? Not only could they afford the repair bill but their livelihoods didn’t depend on having a seaworthy craft.

He had no way of making a living now, and couldn’t for the life of him think of a way out of the jam he was in.

CHAPTER FOUR

Kent sat across the desk from Lloyd Bailey and held his breath. This was the moment of truth. If his bank manager gave him the all clear to extend his mortgage then there was a glimmer of hope he could dig himself out of this mess.

Bailey closed the folder he was perusing and cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, Mr. London,” he said in a brisk and businesslike manner, “but given the estimate on the repairs to your boat the bank can’t agree to extending your mortgage.”

Kent’s heart sank. He hadn’t held out much hope, but to hear his bank manager close the door on him drove the last nail painfully into his coffin.

“I wish I could be saying otherwise,” he continued, ”but there’s simply no way you would be able to service that level of debt.”

Kent leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. “So this is the end of the road then?”

“I’m afraid so. We have no choice but to foreclose.” He sighed. “I always hate doing this to a valued client, but I really am left with no other option.”

“I understand,” Kent said somberly. “So what happens now?”

“We’ll need to get an assessment taken of the boat’s resale value with and without repairs being done to gauge which would bring in the best return.”

Kent nodded. He was only vaguely taking in what Bailey was saying. He couldn’t get his head around the fact that his dream was ending. He and the Bonnie lass were about to part company forever.

“Once that’s decided we’ll either repair the boat or put her up for sale as she is.”

Kent thought hard about his father, and couldn’t escape the feeling that he had let his dad down. The older London had worked hard all his life to scrape together what he had passed on to his son, and now Kent had made his life’s work of no accord. Somebody else was going to sail off with the Bonnie Lass, taking all his father’s savings with him.

“Are there any questions you would like to ask?” Bailey said, snapping Kent out of his misery.

Kent thought for a moment. “How long will it be before the Bonnie Lass is put up for sale?”

“The report will be completed within the next fourteen days. If work needs to be done on her then I guess you could add another six weeks to the time frame. How long she would need to be on the market before she sells is anybody’s guess.”

“So if she is sold as is then she’ll be on the market in a couple of week’s time?”

“Yes.”

“If I can come up with some capital before the report is completed would that be enough to stave off this sale?”

Bailey peered over the top of his glasses at him. “It would have to be a considerable sum before we would do that, and not from some finance company charging an excessive interest rate. That would place you in an even more precarious position.” He paused as he wiped the lens of his glasses. “But if you can come up with an interest free loan from a friend or family member then I’m sure the bank will see its way to reactivating the loan.”

Kent drove home from the bank, a cloud of depression hanging over him. He had fourteen days to come up with something. He had no idea what that something might be, but he was going to explore every possible avenue before the fortnight was up.

Pulling into his driveway and getting out of his car he rested his hand on the door and gazed out over the bay. How could it look so serene when only a few days ago it had raged with such fury? The sea, he realized, could be a man’s best friend or his worst enemy. It could yield up a living to him, or cruelly snatch it away. But he loved that sea even so, and the thought of never making a living from it filled his heart with dread.

♥

The knock on the door jolted him awake. Who could that be? He glanced across at the grandfather clock in the corner of the sitting room. It had just gone noon. Hauling himself up from the sofa he shuffled out to the front door.

“Hello, you’re a hard man to track down.”

Kent’s sleepy eyes worked overtime to take in the vision standing on his verandah. She was about the prettiest woman he had ever laid eyes on. “Are you a Jehovah’s Witness?” he asked suspiciously.

She laughed, and it was the most delightfully feminine sound he had heard in a long time. “You probably don’t recognize me because the last time we met I was in a pretty sorry state.”

He noticed the stunning green eyes, and then spotted the shirt slung over her arm and it suddenly dawned on him. “You’re the lady I pulled out of the water the other morning.”

She smiled sweetly at him. “Yes, I am, and I’m very grateful to you for saving me.”

“I’m glad to see you’ve made a full recovery,” he said, the last vestiges of slumber fading from his foggy brain. “You didn’t look too crash hot that morning.”

“I can assure you I didn’t feel too crash hot either, Mr. London.” She held his shirt out to him. “Thank you for the use of it. It was very kind of you.”

“No problem.” He looked down at the shirt in his hand for a moment. “Would you like to come in for a cup of coffee?” he asked suddenly.

“That would be nice as long as you’re sure I’m not interrupting you.”

“No,” he assured her. “I was just taking a short nap. Please,” he stepped back and held the door open, “come in.”

She followed him through to the kitchen.

“Have a seat.” He waved his hand in the direction of the table. “So how do you take your coffee? It’s only instant I’m afraid.”

“Milk and sugar, I haven’t been able to free myself of the sugar habit yet.”

“Me neither. It’s ghastly stuff without something to sweeten it up a bit.” He looked up from his chore. “I’ve just realized I don’t know your name.”

“It’s Christy…Christy Lane.”

“I’m Kent London.”

“I know. I asked around town who the wonderful man was who pulled a silly woman out of the surf the other day and that’s the name I was given.” She took the cup he offered her and waited for him to sit down before she continued. “This is the fifth time I’ve been around to thank you. The last time was earlier this morning but you weren’t home then either.”

“I was with my bank manager.”

She noticed the expression on his face. “Bad news…?”

“Yes. It’s about as bad as it gets I’m afraid.”

She started to get up. “I’m sorry I’ve come around at a very bad time.”

“No,” he said quickly, to allay her concern, “you’ve timed it perfectly. I’ve been wallowing in self pity, and there’s nothing like spending time with a beautiful woman to break a man free of that.”

“Ah, I see you are very good with women.” She took a sip of coffee and peered at him over the top of her cup. “Couple that with those smoldering good looks and I beat you have the ladies go weak at the knees when they are around you.”

He laughed heartily. “And I see you’ve got a sense of humor. You’re the only lady who’s ever gone weak at the knees in front of me, and that was only because you were coughing up a lung full of water at the time.”

She smiled at his joke. “You underestimate yourself. Look…just say no if you don’t want to, but how about having dinner with me tonight? I’m a pretty fair cook, and I would like to say thank you properly.”

“You don’t have to do that, Kent assured her. “I was glad I was on the spot to pull you out. It was a tragedy the town and your family could do without.”

“Even so, I’m hoping you will have dinner with me.”

Kent thought about it. It would bust him free of melancholy for a few hours. He hadn’t thought about his sorry situation the whole time he had been chatting with her. Dinner might just be the thing to put a bit of zap back into him. “Okay, I’d love to have dinner with you.”

“That’s settled then.” Reaching into her handbag she pulled out a notepad and pen. “Here’s my address,” she said, as she hastily scribbled it down. “Is six-thirty okay?”

“Sounds fine.”

“Great.” Getting up she pushed the chair back under the table. “I’d best get down to the supermarket and hunt for what I need. I can’t have you thinking I’m a bad cook as well as a lousy swimmer.”

After she was gone Kent took the empty cups over to the sink. She had certainly made an impression on him. Quite apart from the sensational eyes and long auburn hair, which would have appealed to any man this side of the grave, she possessed that certain something that lifted her head and shoulders above most other beautiful women he had met.

She was feminine without even trying that was what it was. She possessed an elegant grace that he just couldn’t help being drawn to. Yes, tonight was going to be special. It was just a shame he would be going to dinner with all this other rubbish hanging over him.

CHAPTER FIVE

She opened the door on the fourth knock, and Kent barely suppressed a gasp. “I didn’t realize I was supposed to dress up,” he said apologetically, as he took her in from head to toe. She was quite simply jaw droopingly gorgeous.

“You weren’t. I didn’t tell you to,” she said quickly. “It’s just that I haven’t dressed up in such a long time, and I decided tonight I would.”

“I feel like I should go home and change.”

“No, you’re fine as you are,” she insisted, taking him by the arm and drawing him inside.

His nostrils were immediately overcome by a delicious smell wafting through from the kitchen. “Something smells good.”

“I should hope so. I’ve spent a lot of time on it,” he admitted. “Come through to the lounge.”

“It’s a beautiful place you have here,” he commented, after he had seated himself.

“It’s rented,” she confessed. “But I’ve always wanted to live by the sea, and so I made the move north from Auckland to fulfill that dream.”

“You haven’t been in town long I take it. I haven’t seen you around before.”

“I’ve only been here a few weeks.” She was talking to him through the open door to the kitchen, and every now and then he could hear a pot lid clang. “My father is going to be joining me in a week’s time. We’ve always been close so it’ll be nice to have him here.”

She fell silent as she busied herself with the meal, and so he used the time to take in his surroundings. She obviously had a bit of money; there were several expensive looking antiques as well as the plush furniture. A painting on the wall caught his eye, and so he wandered over to study it.

“Who’s the beautiful woman in the painting?” he called out.

“If it’s the painting above the fireplace then that’s my mother.”

“She’s very exotic looking.”

“She was a mixture of Spanish and Norwegian.”

“A very good mix obviously,” Kent said appreciatively. “I can see where you get your looks from.”

Her head popped around the door frame. “My father met her at the opening ceremony of the 1984 Olympics in Los Angeles. They spent most of the two weeks together. When she went back to Spain he was devastated.”

“So he followed her back to Spain?”

“Yes. When she answered the door to him she smiled and asked him what had taken him so long. And the rest, as they say, is history.”

Kent didn’t have any trouble believing a man would follow a woman that beautiful to the ends of the earth. The one in the kitchen could probably command the same dedication too, and although she hadn’t inherited too many features from the woman in the painting she was certainly every bit as stunning.

“Do you have much in the way of family, Kent?”

“No, not any more. Mum died when I was in my early twenties, and Dad passed on a few years back.”

“No siblings?”

“No. Mum couldn’t have any more children after me. Something went wrong while she was giving birth and put an end to any more babies.”

She bustled through the door with a platter of meat. “That’s a shame.”

“Yes, it’s been hard since Dad died. I felt a bit disconnected from the world without any family members to turn to.”

She looked up from what she was doing. “That’s understandable. I don’t have any siblings either, and if I were to lose Daddy I’d feel the same way.”

He wandered over to where she was setting the table. “What were you doing swimming out there so early that morning?”

She froze. Her hand was halfway to up from the drawer with a fistful of cutlery. “Just one of those silly things,” she said slowly. “On a whim I decided to go for an early morning swim.”

“In the dark…?”

“Yes.”

“You mustn’t be the best of swimmers it was dead clam out there.”

“Yes, it was, but I got disorientated in the dark and panicked. Kent, could you give me a hand bringing the food through from the kitchen?”

He complied with her request but couldn’t help noticing how evasive she was being. It wasn’t difficult to see she didn’t want to talk about it and that puzzled him. He would have thought most people would want to talk about very little else when they had been through such an ordeal, especially when they were with the person who had saved them. But he wasn’t one to pry, and so he decided to let the matter drop. If ever she decided to tell him about it then he would be happy to hear her story.

“I must conclude that you are a good cook,” he said, when the meal was over. “I haven’t stuffed myself so full in years.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it.” She poured him a cup of coffee. “I don’t know a lot about you yet. What line of work are you in?”

“I’m a charter boat skipper.”

“Do you own your own boat?”

“Yes and no,” he answered grimly.

“Yes and no? That’s a bit of a contradiction.”

“I do own my own boat,” he explained, “but not for much longer.”

“Are you selling up to do something else?”

He sighed. “Not exactly, I bought the Bonnie Lass a few years ago knowing it would be a long hard road paying her off.” He stared into the depths of his coffee cup for a few seconds. “Just recently business hasn’t been so good. I was struggling to meet the repayments. To cut a long story short the storm the other day damaged the boat badly enough to cause the bank to recall the loan.”

“And you don’t have the money so they’re taking the boat off you?”

“Yep, that’s about the size of it.”

“Kent, that’s terrible. What are you going to do?”

“I’m not sure yet. I’ve got fourteen days to come up with the money before I lose the boat, so I’m praying for a miracle to happen.”

“Fourteen days doesn’t give you much time.”

“No it doesn’t.” He smiled across the table at her. “But I didn’t come here to dump my troubles on you.”

“You’ve no one else to talk to about it.” Her green eyes were full of concern for him. “Besides, I’ve a feeling we’re going to be friends, so you can dump your troubles on me anytime.”

His smile broadened. “You are a remarkable woman, Christy Lane. It was my lucky day when I pulled you out of the surf.”