Paul
“Emily, you and your sister work together like a well-oiled machine.”
Margaret Balistrieri stood near the back of her son’s Bayliner Trophy, watching her two granddaughters finish putting away the fishing equipment.
It was well after dark on Lake Michigan. The night’s fishing had been successful, and the last of the rods had been pulled in. The tackle was secured, the fish were in the coolers, and everyone was preparing for the return trip to Reefpoint Marina in Racine.
Eighteen-year-old Christina was seated at the helm, while her sixteen-year-old sister Emily was finishing her duties on deck.
Malcolm Balistrieri smiled at his mother.
“Well, Mom, they ought to work like a well-oiled machine. We charge enough for these charter trips.”
Margaret laughed.
“I suppose you do.”
“And Christina was trained by the best. She’s spent two years working as a deckhand, learning everything from handling lines to dealing with customers. Now she’s running the boat, and Emily’s learning to be a first mate.”
Anthony Balistrieri, Malcolm’s sixty-eight-year-old father, looked toward his granddaughter.
“Well, if you’re charging people to go fishing, don’t you need a captain’s license?”
Christina turned slightly in the helm seat.
“Grandpa, I do have my captain’s license.”
Anthony stared at her.
“You do?”
“Yes, Grandpa.”
“Since when?”
“Since I got it.”
Malcolm laughed.
“She’s had it for a little while, Dad.”
Anthony looked genuinely surprised.
“Well, I’ll be damned. I didn’t know you could get one that young.”
Christina smiled.
“Well, you can.”
Sue, Malcolm’s wife, was sitting nearby.
“There’s a school right down here that offers the classes. The classroom portion only takes about a week. Of course, there’s more to it than that. You have to have the experience, pass the examinations, and meet the Coast Guard’s requirements.”
Christina nodded.
“And I already had the time on the water from working with Dad.”
Anthony shook his head.
“Well, I’ll be damned. Eighteen years old and already licensed to operate a charter boat.”
Malcolm smiled.
“I even helped her pay for it.”
Anthony looked toward him.
“Well, that’s money well spent.”
Malcolm stepped toward the helm.
“All right, Captain. I’ll take her back in.”
Christina stood up and moved aside.
“She’s all yours, Dad.”
Malcolm settled into the helm seat and checked the instruments.
Emily finished securing the last of the equipment.
“Everything’s put away,” she announced.
“Good job,” Malcolm replied. “Let’s head in.”
Anthony took his place in the passenger seat directly beside Malcolm.
Malcolm checked that everyone was settled, then eased the throttles forward.
The engines responded immediately.
The bow rose as the Bayliner accelerated across the dark water. For several seconds, the hull pushed through its own wake before gradually climbing onto plane.
As the boat leveled out, the ride became smoother and the speed increased.
Malcolm made a slight adjustment to the trim.
The Trophy settled into a comfortable cruising attitude.
Anthony looked out through the windshield.
The navigation lights reflected faintly against the water, while the distant Wisconsin shoreline appeared as a thin line of scattered lights.
He glanced toward his son.
Malcolm was completely at ease behind the wheel.
He knew the boat, understood its handling, and seemed to enjoy every minute of being out on the lake.
Anthony looked back toward the cabin, where his granddaughters were laughing about something that had happened during the fishing trip.
Then he looked toward Sue.
The entire family seemed comfortable aboard the boat.
Nobody was in a hurry.
Nobody was talking about work.
Nobody was worrying about getting up for an early factory shift.
They were simply enjoying themselves.
Anthony leaned back in the passenger seat.
For the first time that evening, he found himself thinking about his own children when they were young.
Malcolm was thirty-eight now. His younger sister was thirty-five.
Where had all those years gone?
Anthony remembered coming home from the factory exhausted, eating supper, watching television, and going to bed because he had to be up early the following morning.
He remembered working overtime whenever it was available.
He remembered telling himself that he was doing the right thing because he was providing for his family.
And financially, he had.
There had always been a roof over their heads, food on the table, and clothes for the children.
But as he watched Malcolm operating the Bayliner, another thought occurred to him.
That could have been me.
If he’d made different choices, perhaps he could have bought a boat when his children were young.
Maybe he could have taken Malcolm and his sister fishing on weekends.
Maybe they could have spent summer evenings cruising along Lake Michigan.
Maybe Malcolm would have grown up learning to operate a boat from his father, just as Christina and Emily were now learning from Malcolm.
Anthony looked toward his son again.
He was proud of the man Malcolm had become.
But he was also beginning to realize how much of his children’s childhood he’d missed.
“Something wrong, Dad?”
Malcolm’s voice interrupted his thoughts.
Anthony looked over.
“No. Nothing wrong.”
“You’ve been awfully quiet.”
Anthony smiled slightly.
“Just thinking.”
“About what?”
Anthony looked out through the windshield.
“About how things might’ve been different.”
Malcolm glanced toward him.
“What do you mean?”
Anthony hesitated.
“Well, I was just sitting here watching you run this boat. Watching your girls work together. Everybody having a good time.”
He paused.
“And I got to thinking that maybe I should’ve done something like this when you kids were growing up.”
Malcolm looked surprised.
“You mean bought a boat?”
“Yeah.”
Anthony nodded.
“Maybe I should’ve bought a boat.”
Malcolm smiled.
“Dad, you were always working.”
“That’s just it, son. I was always working.”
He looked toward the lake.
“Every time overtime came around, I took it. Every time there was an opportunity to make a few extra dollars, I figured I ought to be working instead of doing something with the family.”
Malcolm said nothing.
“I thought that was what being a good father meant. Bringing home money. Making sure everybody had what they needed.”
Anthony shook his head.
“But sitting here tonight, I realize you can give your kids everything they need financially and still miss a hell of a lot.”
Malcolm looked toward the water ahead.
“Dad, we had a good childhood.”
“I know you did.”
Anthony smiled faintly.
“But it could’ve been better.”
He looked toward Christina and Emily.
“Look at those two girls. They’re going to remember these fishing trips for the rest of their lives.”
Malcolm nodded.
“Probably.”
“They’re going to remember working on the boat with you. Learning how to handle it. Going out fishing at night. Coming back into the marina.”
Anthony paused.
“And I wish I’d given you and your sister some memories like that.”
Malcolm was quiet for a moment.
Then he looked toward his father.
“Well, Dad, there’s nothing stopping you from enjoying it now.”
Anthony smiled.
“No, I suppose there isn’t.”
“You’re retired. You’ve got time. You can come out with us whenever you want.”
Anthony nodded.
“I appreciate that, son.”
He looked back toward the water.
“But I think I’d like to have a boat of my own.”
Malcolm smiled.
“Well, we’ll have to see what we can find you.”
As they approached Racine’s harbor, Sue noticed a small white sailboat riding at anchor.
“Malcolm, isn’t that the little sailboat that used to be tied up next to yours?”
Malcolm looked toward it.
“Yeah. That’s the Columbia.”
“What happened to it?”
“The guy bought another boat. He put the new one in his slip and moved that one out onto an anchor.”
“Looks like it’s been sitting there awhile.”
“It has. I’ve talked to the owner a few times. He’s trying to give it away.”
Anthony immediately looked over.
“Give it away?”
“That’s right, Dad. Free.”
“What’s wrong with it?”
“Not a whole lot, according to the owner. It’s a Columbia 26 Mark II. The hull’s supposed to be good, the cabin’s good, and he’s got a mainsail and three genoas. The upholstery’s shot, and the rigging needs some attention.”
Anthony looked toward the little sailboat.
“Well, why the hell would somebody give that away?”
“Because he doesn’t have anywhere to put it. He’s already got another boat in the slip, and he can’t leave that one anchored out there forever.”
Anthony considered that.
“Well, hell, Malcolm. Let’s go look at it.”
Malcolm smiled.
“That’s what I was thinking.”
He turned the Bayliner toward the Columbia.
A few minutes later, the little fiberglass sailboat came into view.
It had a white hull, a modest cabin trunk, and a tall aluminum mast. The deck was dirty, and birds had left their calling cards everywhere, but the boat looked reasonably sound.
Malcolm brought the Trophy alongside and temporarily secured the two boats together.
“I’ve already talked to the owner about looking at it,” Malcolm explained. “He said we could go aboard.”
Anthony was the first one over.
“Be careful, Dad,” Malcolm warned.
“I’m sixty-eight, Malcolm. I’m not ninety-eight.”
Anthony stepped onto the deck and began examining the fittings.
“Doesn’t look too bad.”
“Nope.”
“The mast’s still standing straight.”
“Yeah, but the rigging needs work.”
Anthony walked toward the companionway.
“Cabin locked?”
“No.”
Malcolm slid the hatch open.
Anthony climbed down into the cabin.
He stopped halfway down the steps.
“Well, I’ll be damned.”
The interior was considerably more spacious than he had expected.
There was a small galley, seating that could be converted into sleeping accommodations, storage compartments, and a forward V-berth.
The upholstery was badly deteriorated, but the fiberglass appeared sound. The wood trim needed refinishing, and everything needed a thorough cleaning.
Anthony sat on one of the cushions.
“These could be recovered.”
“Sure could,” Malcolm replied.
“Wouldn’t cost much if you bought the material and did the work yourself.”
Anthony opened a storage compartment and examined the inside.
“Doesn’t smell rotten.”
“That’s a good sign.”
He looked toward the forward berth.
“Margaret and I could sleep up there.”
“Probably, if you didn’t mind being a little cramped.”
Anthony smiled.
“Malcolm, when you’ve been married as long as we have, you learn how to get along in small spaces.”
Malcolm laughed.
Anthony looked around again.
“You know, this wouldn’t be a bad little summer home.”
“That’s what I was thinking, Dad.”
Anthony considered the idea.
“We could rent the house out for the summer. Three or four months. Let somebody else pay the utilities and put that money toward the boat.”
“You’d have to find a marina that allows extended stays aboard.”
“Well, there’s got to be one somewhere.”
“And you’d have slip fees, insurance, and maintenance.”
Anthony waved his hand.
“Everything needs maintenance, Malcolm. At least this thing wouldn’t cost anything to buy.”
Sue came down into the cabin.
“Well, what do you think?”
Anthony smiled.
“Come look at this thing. There’s actually room to live in here.”
Sue examined the interior.
“Well, it’s bigger than I expected.”
“See?”
“But those cushions are terrible.”
“I can fix those.”
“And it needs cleaning.”
“I can clean it.”
Sue laughed.
“I think we’ve found Grandpa a project.”
Eventually Margaret came aboard to inspect the cabin.
She was less enthusiastic.
“Anthony, where exactly am I supposed to take a shower?”
“At the marina.”
“And do laundry?”
“Same place.”
“And we’re supposed to live in this little thing for four months?”
“Think about the money we’d save!”
Margaret shook her head.
“You’re already spending money we haven’t made.”
Anthony smiled.
“That’s why we’re going to rent the house out.”
After examining the sailboat, everyone carefully returned to the Bayliner.
Malcolm untied the lines and pulled away.
Anthony settled into the passenger seat beside the helm.
For several minutes, he continued looking back at the Columbia.
“You know, Malcolm, that’s really not a bad little boat.”
“No, Dad. It isn’t.”
“And for free, you can’t beat the price.”
Malcolm smiled.
“Well, there’s still the cost of fixing it.”
Anthony nodded.
“Sure. But I’ve got time.”
He looked toward Margaret.
“You know, I spent my whole life working and saving money. Never bought myself much of anything.”
Malcolm glanced over.
“Well, Dad, maybe it’s time you got something you actually want.”
Anthony nodded.
“That’s what I’ve been thinking.”
He looked toward Margaret.
“Your mother’s fifty-eight. She’s got another eleven years before she gets her thirty years in and can retire.”
Margaret looked at him.
“Anthony, what are you planning now?”
“Eleven years! That’s plenty of time to fix up that boat, learn how to sail it, and get everything ready.”
“Ready for what?”
“Hawaii!”
Margaret stared at him.
“Hawaii?”
“Why not?”
“Anthony, in eleven years you’ll be seventy-nine years old!”
“So?”
“So you think you’re going to sail across the Pacific Ocean when you’re almost eighty?”
“Well, if I spend eleven years learning how to sail, why the hell couldn’t I?”
Malcolm laughed.
Anthony continued.
“And another thing. We wouldn’t even have to haul the boat across the country to get to the ocean. There’s got to be a way to get from Lake Michigan over to the Mississippi River.”
“There is, Dad,” Malcolm replied. “You can go through the Chicago waterways, into the Illinois River, and eventually connect with the Mississippi.”
Anthony snapped his fingers.
“Exactly!”
“But you’d have to take the mast down for the low bridges.”
“Well, then we’d take the mast down!”
“And you’d need a reliable motor for the river.”
“Eight or ten horsepower ought to push that little boat along.”
“Probably, but it wouldn’t be fast.”
Anthony smiled.
“Malcolm, I’m retired. What’s the hurry?”
Sue laughed.
Anthony continued.
“We take it down the Mississippi, get into the Gulf of Mexico, and then figure out how to get over to the Pacific.”
“Through the Panama Canal, most likely,” Malcolm replied.
“Exactly! Then we head for Hawaii!”
Margaret shook her head.
“Anthony, that sounds like an awful lot of traveling.”
“Well, that’s the whole idea! We’ve spent our whole lives in Wisconsin. Maybe it’s time we saw something else.”
By the time Malcolm brought the Bayliner into Reefpoint Marina, the family had been on the water for hours.
The marina was quiet, with most of the other boats already secured in their slips. Lights from the docks reflected across the protected harbor.
Malcolm slowed the Trophy as he approached his slip.
“All right, girls. Let’s get tied up.”
Christina moved toward the bow, while Emily went to the stern.
They had done this hundreds of times.
Christina picked up the bow line and prepared to step onto the dock.
Emily had the stern line ready.
Malcolm eased the boat alongside.
Christina stepped onto the dock and secured the bow.
“Bow’s tied!”
Emily followed with the stern line.
“Got the stern!”
Malcolm shifted into neutral and shut down the engine.
Anthony looked toward Margaret.
“Well, I’ll be damned. They really do know what they’re doing.”
Margaret smiled.
“That’s what I was telling you.”
Malcolm stepped away from the helm.
“They’d better know what they’re doing. They’re the ones who run this boat half the time.”
Christina laughed.
“Dad, we run it more than half the time.”
Malcolm smiled.
“Don’t get carried away.”
Emily began gathering the remaining equipment.
“Everything’s secured, Dad.”
“Good. Let’s get the fish unloaded.”
The family began removing the coolers from the boat.
There had been a good catch that evening, and several of the coolers were heavy.
Malcolm and Christina carried the largest one together.
Emily followed with a smaller cooler.
Anthony offered to help.
“Here, give me one of those.”
Malcolm shook his head.
“Dad, we’ve got it.”
“I’m sixty-eight, Malcolm. I’m not helpless.”
“Fine. Take that smaller one.”
Anthony picked up the cooler.
“See? Still got some strength left.”
They carried everything along the dock toward the parking lot.
Malcolm’s gray 1999 Ford F-350 Super Duty crew cab long-bed four-wheel-drive pickup was parked nearby.
Anthony looked at the truck.
“That’s a hell of a truck you’ve got there.”
Malcolm smiled.
“Yeah. It’s been a good one.”
“V10?”
“Yep.”
“Four-wheel drive?”
“Yep.”
Anthony walked around it.
“Long bed, crew cab. That’s a lot of truck.”
Malcolm opened the tailgate.
“Well, I need it. I haul equipment, tow boats, and sometimes have to move things for the business.”
Anthony nodded.
“Well, at least you’ve got a reason for owning it.”
They began loading the coolers into the bed.
Anthony looked toward Malcolm.
“Is this thing paid for?”
Malcolm shook his head.
“No, Dad. I still owe quite a bit of money on it.”
Anthony stopped.
“You still owe money on a 1999 truck?”
Malcolm sighed.
“Here we go.”
Anthony shook his head.
“Malcolm, you should never finance a vehicle for more than five years. And you really shouldn’t be buying them brand-new in the first place.”
“Dad, I bought it because I needed it.”
“Well, you could’ve bought one a couple years old and saved yourself a fortune.”
Malcolm continued arranging the coolers.
“I know, Dad.”
“No, I don’t think you do. The minute you drive a brand-new vehicle off the lot, it loses value. You’re paying interest on something that’s depreciating.”
Malcolm sighed.
“Dad, we’ve had this conversation before.”
“And apparently you didn’t listen.”
Christina laughed.
Anthony continued.
“When I bought cars, I tried to pay them off as quickly as possible. Five years at the absolute maximum. Preferably less.”
Malcolm closed the tailgate.
“Well, Dad, I use the truck for business. It earns money.”
Anthony nodded.
“That’s fine. But it would earn the same money if it were paid for.”
Malcolm shook his head.
“You’re never going to change, are you?”
Anthony smiled.
“Not at sixty-eight.”
Sue laughed.
Margaret looked toward Emily.
“Come on, honey. I’ll take you home.”
Emily shook her head.
“Grandma, I can’t leave yet.”
Margaret looked surprised.
“Why not?”
“Because I’m the first mate. I’ve got to take care of the fish.”
Margaret looked toward the truck.
“What do you mean?”
“Somebody has to clean everything, get it packed on ice, and put it away so it doesn’t spoil.”
Malcolm nodded.
“She’s right.”
Margaret frowned.
“Well, can’t your father do that?”
Emily smiled.
“Dad’s going to Milwaukee.”
Margaret looked confused.
“Milwaukee?”
Sue spoke up.
“Somebody told me about another boat that’s being given away.”
Anthony immediately looked interested.
“Another boat?”
Sue nodded.
“A wooden cabin cruiser. A 1963 Trojan.”
Anthony looked at her.
“A Trojan?”
“That’s right.”
“Where?”
“Up in Milwaukee. It’s sitting at a marina along the Milwaukee River.”
Anthony looked toward Malcolm.
“You know anything about it?”
Malcolm shook his head.
“First I’ve heard of it.”
Sue continued.
“It’s still floating, but apparently the owner wants it gone. Somebody told me about it a while back.”
Anthony smiled.
“Well, hell, why didn’t you say something sooner?”
Sue laughed.
“Because I didn’t know you were shopping for a free boat.”
Anthony folded his arms.
“Well, I’m interested.”
Sue looked toward Malcolm.
“We could go up there and take a look.”
Malcolm glanced at his watch.
“It’s getting pretty late.”
“That’s all right,” Sue replied. “We can go by water. It’ll be easier to find the place from the river.”
Anthony nodded.
“Well, I’m retired. I’ve got nothing better to do.”
Christina stepped forward.
“I’m going.”
Malcolm looked at her.
“Why?”
“Because if Grandpa doesn’t want it, maybe I will.”
Sue laughed.
“Christina, I really don’t think you’re going to want this boat.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s a forty-year-old wooden cruiser that somebody’s giving away.”
“So?”
“So there’s probably a reason it’s free.”
Christina shrugged.
“Well, I’d still like to see it.”
Malcolm shook his head.
“Fine. But don’t get any ideas.”
Margaret looked toward Emily again.
“Well, come on, honey. You can leave the fish for your father.”
Emily shook her head.
“Grandma, I’m the first mate. This is part of my job.”
Malcolm reached into his pocket and pulled out the keys to his gray 1999 Ford F-350 Super Duty crew cab long-bed four-wheel-drive pickup.
He tossed them toward Emily.
She caught them.
“All right, Emily. Take the truck over to the fish-cleaning station and get everything taken care of.”
“Okay, Dad.”
“I want all those fish cleaned, packed properly, and put on ice. Make sure everything’s cleaned up when you’re finished.”
“I know, Dad. I’ve done it before.”
Malcolm nodded.
“And when you’re done, take the truck straight home.”
Emily smiled.
“Okay.”
Malcolm pointed toward her.
“I’m serious. No stopping to see your friends. No driving around Racine. No detours. Straight home.”
“Dad, I know!”
“Good. Because that’s a big truck, and I’m trusting you with it.”
Emily held up the keys.
“I’ll take care of it.”
“And don’t forget to lock everything up when you get home.”
“I won’t.”
Anthony looked toward the Super Duty.
“That’s an awful lot of truck for a sixteen-year-old girl.”
Malcolm shrugged.
“She’s driven it before. She knows how to handle it.”
Anthony nodded.
“Well, just make sure you take your time, young lady.”
Emily smiled.
“I will, Grandpa.”
She climbed into the driver’s seat, adjusted the mirrors, and started the V10 engine.
The big Ford rumbled to life.
Malcolm watched as she carefully backed out of the parking space.
“Straight home!” he called after her.
Emily rolled down the window.
“I heard you the first three times, Dad!”
Christina burst out laughing.
Emily waved, put the truck into drive, and headed toward the fish-cleaning station.
Once the fish were cleaned and packed, she would take the Super Duty directly home, just as her father had instructed.
No detours.
As Emily pulled out of the parking lot, Anthony stood watching the big pickup disappear down the road.
He shook his head.
“Malcolm, you actually trust that sixteen-year-old girl with that truck?”
Malcolm smiled.
“Yeah, Dad. I do.”
“That’s a hell of a lot of truck for a girl her age. Crew cab, long bed, four-wheel drive, V10 engine. That’s not exactly a little compact car.”
“Dad, she drives it all the time. She’s a very good driver.”
Anthony looked toward his son as they started walking back toward the Bayliner.
“Well, I hope so. You just handed her the keys to a truck you still owe a pile of money on.”
Malcolm laughed.
“She’s probably more careful with it than I am.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Emily’s a very trustworthy kid. She does what she’s told, she takes care of things, and she doesn’t give us much trouble. I’m pretty damned proud of her.”
Anthony nodded.
“Well, that’s good to hear.”
“And she’s really taken an interest in what we’re trying to accomplish with the charter business.”
Malcolm gestured toward the boats tied along the docks.
“She’s learning everything. Cleaning fish, taking care of equipment, handling lines, dealing with customers. She doesn’t just come along for the boat ride. She actually wants to work.”
Anthony smiled.
“Well, that reminds me of you when you were younger.”
Malcolm laughed.
“Maybe a little.”
They continued down the dock, with Sue and Christina walking a short distance ahead.
“Between Christina getting her captain’s license and Emily learning to handle the first mate’s responsibilities, they’re getting to where they can take care of quite a bit of the operation themselves,” Malcolm explained.
Anthony looked interested.
“So you’re letting them run more of the business?”
“Exactly. I still oversee everything, and I’m not turning them loose to do anything they’re not qualified to do. But the girls are learning to work together, and they’re getting good at it.”
He smiled.
“And you know what that does for me?”
“What’s that?”
“It frees me up to concentrate on my advertising business.”
Anthony looked at him.
“The radio advertising?”
“Yeah. That’s where I really want to put more of my time.”
Malcolm continued.
“I’ve been working on selling radio advertising, putting together advertising packages for local businesses, and finding new customers. There’s good money to be made if you can build up enough accounts.”
Anthony nodded.
“Well, I suppose there would be.”
“But it’s hard to do that when you’re spending every day running fishing charters. You’ve got to meet with business owners, make phone calls, put together proposals, and follow up with people.”
He gestured toward Christina.
“Now that Christina’s licensed and Emily’s learning the business, they can take on more responsibility. That gives them something productive to do, and it gives me more time to concentrate on selling advertising.”
Anthony considered that.
“So you’re really building two businesses.”
“That’s the idea.”
“Well, I’ll be damned.”
Malcolm smiled.
“The charter business is established. We’ve already got the boat, the equipment, and the customers. I don’t want to walk away from it. But I don’t necessarily have to be the one doing every single thing anymore.”
Anthony nodded approvingly.
“Well, that makes sense.”
“And the girls are earning money while they’re learning. Christina’s eighteen, Emily’s sixteen. They’re getting experience that most kids their age don’t have.”
Anthony glanced back toward the parking lot.
“Well, I suppose if she’s responsible enough to handle that truck, she’s responsible enough to clean a few fish.”
Malcolm laughed.
“Exactly.”
Anthony smiled.
“You know, Malcolm, I think you’ve done a pretty good job raising those girls.”
Malcolm looked toward his father.
“Thanks, Dad.”
“I mean it. They’ve both got responsibilities. They’re working. They’re learning something useful. And they’re not sitting around expecting somebody to hand them everything.”
Malcolm nodded.
“That’s what Sue and I have been trying to teach them.”
Anthony looked toward the Bayliner.
“Well, I’m proud of them, too.”
They reached the boat, where Christina was already preparing to release the dock lines.
Malcolm stepped aboard and turned toward his father.
“And Dad?”
“Yeah?”
“Emily will have that truck home before we even get halfway to Milwaukee.”
Anthony chuckled.
“Well, she’d better. You told her no detours about six times.”
Malcolm laughed.
“That’s because I know what it’s like to be sixteen.”
Anthony grinned.
“Yeah, son. So do I.”
They climbed aboard the Bayliner, ready to begin the trip north toward Milwaukee.
Sue took the helm, while Malcolm and Christina settled into the cabin.
Anthony sat beside Sue in the passenger seat.
Malcolm looked toward his daughter.
“You know something, Christina?”
“What?”
“You’ve got a pretty damned good opportunity working with me.”
Christina nodded.
“I know, Dad.”
“No, I don’t think you understand. There are people who would kill to have the opportunity you’ve got. You’ve been working on boats for two years. You’ve got your captain’s license. You’ve got access to a charter operation that’s already established.”
Christina listened.
“And now you’re talking about getting some shitty-ass wooden boat that somebody’s giving away and running charters with it.”
She shrugged.
“I just said I might be interested.”
Malcolm shook his head.
“Well, don’t get any ideas. That thing’s probably not even worth the gasoline we’re burning to go look at it.”
Christina smiled.
“Well, we’ll find out.”
Malcolm sighed.
“Come on. I’m tired.”
They went down into the lower cabin.
Malcolm lowered the dinette table and rearranged the cushions to make a sleeping surface.
He pulled several blankets from a storage compartment.
Christina settled onto the converted dinette while Malcolm stretched out nearby.
Within a few minutes, both were asleep.
Up at the helm, Sue continued navigating north along the Wisconsin shoreline.
Anthony sat beside her, looking out at the dark water.
The engine hummed steadily beneath them.
For a while, neither spoke.
Then Sue looked over.
“Anthony, I hope you’re serious about this.”
“About what?”
“This boat. We’re burning a lot of fuel going up to Milwaukee in the middle of the night. I hope you’re not just wasting everybody’s time.”
Anthony looked at her.
“Let me tell you a story, honey.”
Sue glanced over.
“All right.”
“When I was working at AMC, there were two fellows I knew. Both of them were just like me. Dedicated to the company. Dedicated to the union. Worked all the overtime they could get. Made all the same sacrifices I did.”
He paused.
“Probably weren’t as active in their kids’ lives as they should’ve been, either.”
Sue continued steering.
“Okay.”
“Well, both of them finally retired. Went home. Sat down in their chairs. Watched television.”
Anthony looked out across the water.
“One of them was dead within six months. The other one was dead in seven.”
Sue looked toward him.
“Well, I guess sometimes that happens.”
“Yeah. Sometimes it happens.”
He was quiet for a moment.
“You know, I’ve been retired four months now.”
“I know.”
“And you know what I’ve been doing?”
“What?”
“Sitting in my fucking chair.”
Sue glanced over.
“Anthony—”
“No, listen to me. I spent my whole life waiting for retirement. Thirty years, forty years, whatever it took. Every damned day I went to work thinking about the day I wouldn’t have to go anymore.”
He leaned forward.
“And now I’m retired, and I don’t know what the hell to do with myself.”
Sue said nothing.
“If I don’t get some active hobby that’s going to get me out of that fucking chair and out doing something, I’m done. My whole life was a waste because I’ll never enjoy that pension.”
“Anthony, you don’t know that.”
“Well, I know what happened to those other guys.”
He looked toward the dark shoreline.
“Your mother-in-law’s got eleven more years at that place. My daughter’s got thirteen. Eleven years. Thirteen years. Everybody’s counting down the years like they’re doing a prison sentence.”
Sue considered that.
“You’re talking about it more like it’s a prison sentence than a job somebody loves or wants to go to.”
Anthony nodded.
“You know what? At the end, that’s exactly what it felt like.”
He looked at her.
“I think I’d have a lot in common with somebody doing a thirty-year sentence. You go in, you do your time, you follow the rules, and you keep your mouth shut. Then one day they finally let you out.”
He paused.
“And then you die.”
Sue looked at him.
“That’s a pretty depressing way to look at retirement.”
“Well, it’s the truth.”
He leaned back.
“If I don’t get this boat, I’m basically dead.”
Sue shook her head.
“Anthony, that’s being a little dramatic.”
He looked toward the black water.
“You know what? If this boat deal doesn’t work out, maybe I’ll just jump in the drink and not even bother swimming back.”
Sue turned toward him.
“Anthony, don’t say that.”
“Why not? I’m dead anyway.”
“You’re not dead, and you’re not jumping anywhere. You’re sitting right here with me.”
Anthony looked at her for a moment.
Then he nodded.
“All right.”
Sue kept one hand on the wheel.
“But I understand what you’re saying. You need something to do. Something to look forward to.”
“Exactly.”
Anthony was quiet for a while before continuing.
“You know, the union encouraged us to get our ten years in. Get that little bit of seniority. Get vested. Then start looking for women.”
Sue looked at him.
“What?”
“That’s how some of the older guys talked. They figured once you had seniority and a steady paycheck, you could offer a younger woman something a fellow her own age couldn’t.”
Sue shook her head.
“That’s an interesting way to look at marriage.”
“Well, that’s what we believed. We could take care of them. Give them a better life. They’d be impressed with us.”
He paused.
“And that’s what I did. That’s what those other guys did.”
Sue continued listening.
“My buddy Raymond was one of them. Good worker. Loyal to AMC. Loyal to the union. Maybe not the hardest worker in the whole damned plant, but he showed up and did his job.”
Anthony looked down.
“And then he retired.”
“What happened?”
“His wife came home from work one day and found him dead in his chair.”
Sue was quiet.
“That’s awful.”
“Yeah. And you know what was worse?”
“What?”
“Some of the guys made jokes about it afterward. Said Raymond was so lazy he couldn’t even get out of his chair to die.”
Anthony shook his head.
“That man gave his life to that company. He worked his whole damned life. And that’s how people remembered him.”
Sue looked at him.
“That’s terrible.”
“Well, I’m not going to be Raymond.”
He looked toward the water.
“I’d rather die out here doing something I enjoy than die in my fucking chair while my wife is at work.”
Sue reached over and briefly touched his arm.
“Anthony, you don’t have to choose between those two things. You can have a boat, enjoy your retirement, and still be careful.”
He nodded.
“That’s what I’m trying to do.”
They continued north along Lake Michigan.
The shoreline lights passed slowly in the distance.
After several hours, the first signs of daylight began appearing along the eastern horizon.
Sue checked her position and adjusted course toward Milwaukee.
A long bridge could be seen in the distance.
“Anthony, go downstairs and wake Malcolm and Christina.”
Anthony stood up.
“Getting close?”
“Yeah. We’re almost there.”
He climbed down into the cabin.
Malcolm was asleep, with one arm resting across his chest.
Christina was curled up beneath a blanket.
“Come on, you two. Wake up. We’re getting into Milwaukee.”
Malcolm opened his eyes.
“Already?”
“Yep.”
Christina sat up.
“Where are we?”
“Milwaukee,” Anthony replied.
Malcolm climbed out of the berth and followed his father toward the helm.
As they came up, he recognized the harbor.
“Oh, I know where we are.”
Sue nodded.
“Thought you would.”
They passed beneath the Hoan Bridge and entered the Milwaukee harbor area.
Along the waterfront, they could see boats sitting on trailers and wooden cradles. Some were covered with tarps. Others appeared to have been sitting for years.
Anthony pointed.
“Is that where we’re going?”
Sue shook her head.
“No. Farther down the Milwaukee River.”
Anthony nodded.
“Well, that’s fine. I’m retired now. Ain’t got nothing better to do than go looking at old boats.”
Malcolm laughed.
“You’re the one who wanted to come.”
“You’re damned right I did.”
As they continued into the river, Anthony became quieter.
He looked toward Malcolm.
“You know something, son?”
“What’s that, Dad?”
“I wish I could’ve been there for you kids the way you’ve been there for yours.”
Malcolm looked at him.
“What do you mean?”
“All these boating adventures. Taking the girls fishing. Spending weekends together. Doing things as a family.”
He paused.
“I wish I’d done more of that.”
Malcolm shrugged.
“Dad, you worked.”
“That’s just it. I worked. And worked. And worked some more.”
Anthony shook his head.
“I was so damned brainwashed by that union. Everything was about seniority, overtime, benefits, retirement. I thought if I kept working and bringing home money, I was doing everything I was supposed to do.”
“You took care of us.”
“Yeah. Financially.”
He looked toward the river.
“But I missed a lot of other things.”
Malcolm was quiet.
Anthony continued.
“Tonight, being out there on the lake with you and the girls, I finally realized what I missed.”
He looked at his son.
“I wanted a boat, Malcolm. I always wanted a boat.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Even back in the sixties.”
Malcolm smiled.
“Well, Dad, there’s nothing stopping you now.”
Anthony nodded.
“That’s what I’ve been thinking.”
He looked toward his son.
“But I can tell you one thing. I’m not missing this opportunity.”
Malcolm smiled.
“Well, let’s see what kind of shape the Trojan’s in before you start planning your retirement around it.”
Anthony stepped closer.
“You know something, Malcolm?”
“What?”
“I’m proud of you.”
Malcolm looked surprised.
“Thanks, Dad.”
Anthony put his arms around his son.
Malcolm hugged him back.
For a few moments, neither said anything.
Then Anthony stepped away.
“Now let’s go find that damned boat.”
Sue smiled from the helm.
“That’s what we’re doing.”
They continued down the Milwaukee River.
Eventually Sue slowed the Bayliner near an older marina.
There were several wooden cruisers tied along the docks, along with a collection of boats sitting on shore.
Some had been covered for years. Others were exposed to the weather, their paint peeling and woodwork deteriorating.
Sue pointed toward a dark shape along the dock.
“There it is.”
Anthony leaned forward.
“That’s the Trojan?”
“That’s the one.”
The boat was larger than the Columbia, with a substantial wooden cabin, a raised deck, and the distinctive appearance of an early-1960s Trojan cruiser.
Even in the early morning light, Anthony could see that it had once been an attractive boat.
The hull was painted white, although the paint was peeling in places. The cabin windows were dirty, and the wooden trim had lost much of its finish.
But it was still floating.
Anthony smiled.
“Well, I’ll be damned.”
Malcolm studied the marina.
Then his expression changed.
“Wait a minute.”
Sue looked at him.
“What?”
“I know this place.”
“So?”
“I know the guy who runs it.”
Sue looked puzzled.
“What’s wrong with that?”
Malcolm shook his head.
“Nothing good.”
Anthony looked at him.
“What are you talking about?”
“That guy who runs this place is a fucking lunatic.”
Sue frowned.
“Malcolm—”
“I’m serious. He’s about seven feet tall, solid muscle, and he’s not capable of reasonable thought.”
Anthony shrugged.
“Well, we’re just here to look at a boat.”
Malcolm looked toward the Trojan.
“You know what? We ought to just get some knives out, cut the lines, pull the damned thing out backward, and see if we can get it started in open water.”
Anthony immediately shook his head.
“No.”
“Dad—”
“No, Malcolm. We’re not doing that.”
“Well, I don’t want to deal with that guy.”
Anthony looked at his son.
“Listen to me. If I’m going to put hundreds and hundreds of hours into restoring this boat, I want it legitimate.”
Malcolm sighed.
“Dad, you don’t understand this guy.”
“I understand that somebody owns that boat, and I want the title. I want a bill of sale. I want everything done properly.”
Anthony pointed toward the Trojan.
“There’s maritime laws and registration procedures. We’re not going to steal a boat and then spend the next ten years wondering if somebody’s going to come looking for it.”
Sue nodded.
“He’s right, Malcolm.”
Malcolm shook his head.
“Fine. But I’m not dealing with Jerry.”
Anthony looked at him.
“Jerry?”
“That’s the guy who runs this place.”
Sue eased the Bayliner toward a narrow floating dock.
Malcolm pointed.
“Right there. You can put Dad and Christina off.”
Christina looked at him.
“Why aren’t you coming?”
“Because I don’t want anything to do with that guy.”
She laughed.
“Dad, you’re overreacting.”
“Maybe. But I’m not getting off this boat.”
Sue brought the Trophy alongside.
Christina stepped onto the dock first, and Anthony followed.
Malcolm handed his father a flashlight.
“You’ve got your cell phone?”
“Yep.”
“Christina?”
“Got mine.”
“All right. Call us when you find out what’s going on.”
Anthony nodded.
“Fine.”
Malcolm looked toward Sue.
“Get this fucking boat out of here. I don’t want to be sitting around when that guy comes out.”
Sue shook her head.
“All right.”
She eased the Bayliner away from the dock and continued farther down the channel.
Malcolm went down into the cabin.
He had absolutely no intention of being recognized by Jerry.
Back on the dock, Anthony and Christina started walking toward the Trojan.
They hadn’t gone far when a large figure emerged from the shadows.
The man was enormous, standing close to seven feet tall, with broad shoulders and heavily muscled arms.
He approached them.
“What the hell are you two doing here?”
Christina stopped.
Anthony didn’t seem particularly concerned.
“Morning.”
The man looked them over.
“I know you’re not customers of mine. I know everybody who keeps a boat here.”
Anthony extended his hand.
“Anthony Balistrieri.”
The man looked at his hand, then shook it.
“Jerry.”
Anthony smiled.
“Nice to meet you, Jerry. This is my granddaughter, Christina.”
Jerry nodded toward her.
“What do you want?”
“We heard there’s a 1963 Trojan wooden cruiser here that somebody’s giving away.”
Jerry looked toward the boat.
“Yeah. That piece of shit.”
Anthony glanced at it.
“That’s the one?”
“Yep.”
“We’d like to take a look at it.”
Jerry shook his head.
“You know how many people have come down here wanting to look at that damned thing?”
Anthony shrugged.
“No idea.”
“Plenty. Everybody wants a free boat. Nobody wants to pay to move it.”
He pointed toward the Trojan.
“The woman who owns it failed to meet her requirements to keep it here. I don’t run a free clinic. I don’t let people keep their shit here for nothing.”
Anthony nodded.
“Well, I understand that.”
Jerry continued.
“She owes money. The boat needs work. I want it gone.”
“Well, that’s why we’re here.”
Jerry looked at him.
“You got any idea what you’re getting into?”
Anthony smiled.
“I’m retired. I’ve got time.”
Jerry shook his head.
“That doesn’t mean you know anything about wooden boats.”
“Well, I’ve done a fair amount of woodworking.”
Jerry laughed.
“Woodworking? This isn’t building a fucking birdhouse.”
Anthony shrugged.
“Never said it was.”
Jerry pointed toward the boat.
“Look, if you want that thing, here’s the deal. You pay me about a thousand bucks, I’ll haul it out and put it on dry land.”
“A thousand?”
“That’s right. Then you buy a cradle from me. Two, three hundred bucks, depending on what I have.”
Anthony listened.
“And then?”
“Then you pay for a dry-land storage spot while you work on it.”
Anthony looked toward the Trojan.
“Well, I’d like to see what kind of shape it’s in first.”
Jerry shook his head.
“You can look from the dock.”
Anthony stepped closer.
The Trojan had a broad wooden hull and a substantial cabin. Its windows were dirty, and some of the exterior trim was badly weathered.
But Anthony could see the possibilities.
He imagined the cabin cleaned, the woodwork refinished, the hull freshly painted, and the boat cruising along Lake Michigan.
He stepped toward the cockpit.
Jerry immediately raised his voice.
“Hey! Don’t get on that fucking boat!”
Anthony stopped.
“Why not?”
“Because the bottom might be rotten! If you go right through the fucking thing, I’m not responsible!”
Christina looked at her grandfather.
“Grandpa, don’t.”
Anthony studied the cockpit.
There was water standing inside.
“Bilge pump quit?”
“Probably. I don’t know. I don’t care.”
Anthony looked at the water.
“Well, we’ve had some rain lately.”
Jerry shook his head.
“Rain or no rain, there’s water in the damned boat.”
Anthony carefully stepped aboard.
“Grandpa!” Christina protested.
Jerry threw up his hands.
“You’re one crazy son of a bitch!”
Anthony lowered himself into the cockpit.
The water reached well up his lower legs.
He shone the flashlight around.
The interior was a mess.
The upholstery was deteriorated, the woodwork was stained, and there were signs of water damage throughout the cabin.
But the layout fascinated him.
There was room for a proper galley, a dinette, sleeping accommodations, and an enclosed head.
Compared with the Columbia, it seemed enormous.
Anthony looked around.
“Well, I’ll be damned.”
Christina stood on the dock.
“Grandpa, please get out of there!”
Anthony ignored her for a moment.
He examined the cabin structure, the windows, and the wooden framing.
He could already imagine replacing damaged sections, refinishing the mahogany trim, and restoring the boat to something resembling its original condition.
Jerry watched in disbelief.
“I told you not to get on that fucking thing!”
Anthony finally climbed back toward the dock.
Christina reached down and helped him.
His shoes and pant legs were soaked.
Jerry stared at him.
“You are one crazy son of a bitch.”
Anthony looked at him.
“I’m fucking dead anyway, so what’s it matter?”
Jerry frowned.
“What the hell does that mean?”
Anthony shrugged.
“I’m sixty-eight years old. Been retired four months. If I don’t find something to do, I’m going to end up dead in my chair like a couple of my friends.”
Jerry stared at him.
Anthony continued.
“So what do I have to do to get this fucking deal done and move on with my life? Or what little life I’ve got left?”
Jerry shook his head.
“Well, first of all, I don’t own the boat.”
“Who does?”
“A woman named Denise.”
“Where do I find her?”
Jerry pointed toward the street.
“She’s got a haircutting place not too far from here.”
“A barbershop?”
“Something like that.”
Anthony nodded.
“Well, let’s go talk to her.”
Jerry laughed.
“Good luck.”
“Why?”
“Because that woman’s a witch.”
Anthony looked puzzled.
“A witch?”
“That’s what I said.”
Christina smiled.
“Maybe she’s Wiccan.”
Anthony turned toward his granddaughter.
“What the hell is Wiccan?”
“It’s a religion, Grandpa.”
“A religion?”
“Yeah. Wicca. It’s a modern Pagan religion. Some Wiccans practice rituals, celebrate the changing seasons, and believe there’s something sacred about nature.”
Anthony frowned.
“Well, what does that have to do with being a witch?”
“Some Wiccans call themselves witches. They practice witchcraft as part of their religion.”
Anthony looked toward Jerry.
“So you’re telling me this woman’s doing witchcraft in a barbershop?”
Jerry shrugged.
“I’m telling you what I’ve heard. You can find out for yourself.”
Anthony shook his head.
“Well, I’m Lutheran. Missouri Synod. We didn’t have any of that business in church.”
Christina laughed.
“I know, Grandpa.”
“Well, I don’t know what the hell people are getting into these days.”
Jerry folded his arms.
“Are you going to look at the boat or stand here talking about religion all morning?”
Anthony smiled.
“I already looked at the boat. Now I’m going to find the woman who owns it.”
“Good. Because I want that damned thing gone.”
Anthony extended his hand again.
“Well, thank you for your time, Jerry.”
Jerry shook it.
“Just don’t come back telling me she put a curse on you.”
Christina laughed as she and Anthony started toward the street.
They walked past several boats sitting on wooden cradles. A few had faded tarps stretched across them, while others were exposed to the weather. The early morning sunlight was beginning to illuminate the industrial buildings along the Milwaukee River.
For a few minutes, neither spoke.
Then Anthony looked toward his granddaughter.
“Christina, where’d you learn about this Wiccan business?”
She smiled.
“Reading.”
“Reading what?”
“Books. Some stuff on the internet. I’ve talked to a couple of people who are interested in it.”
Anthony shook his head.
“Well, what exactly do these people believe?”
“It depends on the person. Wicca isn’t like our church, where everybody’s supposed to follow the same doctrine.”
“What do you mean?”
“Some Wiccans believe in a Goddess and a God. Some focus more on nature and the seasons. They have holidays called sabbats.”
Anthony looked puzzled.
“Sabbaths?”
“Not exactly. Sabbats. There are eight seasonal festivals in what’s called the Wheel of the Year.”
“Eight holidays?”
“Yeah. Like Samhain around Halloween, Yule around the winter solstice, Beltane in the spring, and others.”
Anthony considered that.
“Well, Christmas is around the winter solstice.”
“Exactly. Some of the seasonal traditions are older than Christianity.”
Anthony looked at her.
“Now, don’t go telling Pastor something like that.”
Christina laughed.
“I’m not trying to start an argument with the pastor, Grandpa.”
“Good. Because I don’t think he’d appreciate it.”
They continued walking.
Anthony thought for a moment.
“Well, do they believe in the devil?”
Christina shook her head.
“No. That’s one of the big misunderstandings. Wicca generally doesn’t have the Christian concept of Satan. Wiccans aren’t automatically devil worshippers.”
“Well, that’s good to know.”
“And a lot of them believe in trying not to harm other people.”
Anthony nodded.
“Well, I suppose that’s a decent idea.”
“Some follow something called the Wiccan Rede. It’s basically about doing what you want as long as you’re not harming anybody.”
Anthony chuckled.
“Well, that sounds like something the union could’ve used.”
Christina laughed.
“Grandpa!”
“I’m serious. Some of those fellows would’ve benefited from that advice.”
They passed another building, and the street became quieter.
Anthony looked toward her again.
“You’re awfully knowledgeable about this.”
Christina shrugged.
“I’ve been kind of interested in it.”
Anthony stopped walking.
“Interested?”
“Yeah.”
“You mean you want to become one of these witches?”
Christina laughed.
“I didn’t say that.”
“Well, what are you saying?”
“I’m saying I find it interesting. The history, the traditions, the idea of being connected to nature. I like being outdoors. I like being on the lake. Some of it makes sense to me.”
Anthony considered that.
“Well, you can appreciate nature without joining another religion.”
“I know, Grandpa.”
“And your grandmother would have a fit.”
Christina smiled.
“Probably.”
“Your mother know about this?”
“A little.”
“What does she think?”
“She doesn’t really care what I read about. She says I’m old enough to make up my own mind.”
Anthony shook his head.
“Well, your mother always was a little more open-minded about things than I am.”
Christina laughed.
“That’s one way of putting it.”
Anthony looked down the street.
“Well, I don’t know much about Wicca, but I know one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“If this Denise woman has the title to that Trojan, I’m willing to listen to whatever she has to say.”
Christina smiled.
“Even if she’s a witch?”
Anthony shrugged.
“Hell, honey, I’ve spent forty years dealing with union representatives and factory management. How much worse could a witch be?”
Christina burst out laughing.
They continued toward the barbershop.
A few minutes later, Christina noticed a small storefront with illuminated windows.
“Grandpa, look.”
On the door was a piece of paper with a photograph of the old wooden Trojan.
Underneath the picture were the words:
FREE BOAT — 1963 TROJAN WOODEN CRUISER
ASK FOR DENISE
Anthony smiled.
“Well, I’ll be damned. That’s our boat.”
Christina laughed.
“Your boat, Grandpa. We haven’t got it yet.”
“Well, let’s go see what the witch wants for it.”
He opened the door, and they stepped inside.
The shop was quiet when they entered.
There were two styling stations, a traditional barber chair, several mirrors, and shelves holding bottles of shampoo, hair products, scissors, combs, and electric clippers.
A woman stood behind the counter.
“Can I help you?”
Anthony removed his cap.
“Morning. We’re looking for Denise.”
“That’s me.”
Anthony smiled.
“Anthony Balistrieri. This is my granddaughter, Christina.”
Denise looked toward the door.
“You’re here about the boat.”
“That’s right.”
She sighed.
“Everybody’s here about the boat.”
Anthony chuckled.
“Well, I actually went and looked at it.”
Denise raised an eyebrow.
“You went aboard?”
“Sure did.”
“With all that water in it?”
“Yep.”
She shook her head.
“Well, you’re braver than most of the people who’ve been asking about it.”
Anthony smiled.
“I’ve done a lot of woodworking over the years. I think I could fix that thing up.”
Denise studied him.
“You understand that it’s not a boat you can just start up and take fishing tomorrow?”
“Of course.”
“And Jerry wants it out of his marina.”
“I understand that, too.”
Denise looked toward Christina.
“Well, I’ll tell you what. I’ll give you the boat.”
Anthony smiled.
“That’s what I was hoping to hear.”
“But there’s a condition.”
His smile faded slightly.
“What condition?”
Denise looked directly at Christina.
“I get to shave her head.”
Christina stared at her.
“What?”
Denise continued.
“And she has to agree to help you restore the boat until her hair grows back to the length it is now.”
Christina looked at her grandfather.
“Grandpa, absolutely not.”
But privately, her reaction was not quite as simple as her words suggested.
Christina had thought about dramatic haircuts before.
She had grown up watching her mother, Sue, experiment with different hairstyles. Sue had worn her hair quite short at various times, and Christina knew her mother had a particular fascination with barber chairs, clippers, and the possibility of having her hair cut much shorter than most women would ordinarily consider.
Christina had inherited some of that curiosity.
On more than one occasion, she had wondered what it would feel like to sit in a traditional barber chair and have somebody run a pair of clippers over her head.
She had even imagined what she might look like completely bald.
But imagining something privately was very different from having a stranger propose doing it in front of her grandfather.
And having her haircut become the price of an old wooden boat was something else entirely.
“You’re serious?” Anthony asked Denise.
“Completely.”
Christina folded her arms.
“No way.”
Denise shrugged.
“Then I guess you don’t want the boat.”
Anthony looked toward the photograph of the Trojan.
Christina looked toward the barber chair.
She noticed the chrome footrest, the padded armrests, and the large mirror directly in front of it.
A pair of electric clippers rested on the counter.
She quickly looked away.
Anthony turned toward her.
“Honey, think about it.”
“Grandpa, no!”
“It’s just hair.”
“It’s my hair!”
“I understand that.”
Christina shook her head.
“You don’t understand. You’re not the one who’s going to be walking around with a shaved head.”
Denise watched quietly.
Anthony sighed.
“Well, I can’t make you do it.”
Christina looked at him.
“Good.”
“But I’d sure appreciate your help.”
She looked toward the photograph again.
Anthony continued.
“I spent my whole life working. I missed things I should’ve done with my family. Now I’m retired, and I’m trying to find something worthwhile.”
“Grandpa, you don’t need a boat to do that.”
“Maybe not. But I want one.”
He looked at her.
“And I’d like you to help me fix it.”
Christina was quiet.
Part of her wanted to walk out.
Another part kept returning to the image of the barber chair.
She wondered whether she would regret it afterward. She wondered what her father would say, what her mother would think, and how long it would take before she felt comfortable going out in public.
But she also remembered how often she’d privately imagined doing something drastic with her hair.
Denise finally spoke.
“Christina, nobody’s going to force you into that chair.”
Christina looked at her.
“Then why make it a condition?”
“Because I’m offering the boat on my terms. You can accept or refuse.”
Christina thought about that.
“And you’re serious about me helping Grandpa until my hair grows back?”
“That’s the agreement.”
“That could take years.”
Denise nodded.
“Long hair doesn’t come back overnight.”
Anthony smiled slightly.
“Well, honey, I figure that’s plenty of time for us to restore the Trojan.”
Christina looked at him.
“You’re enjoying this way too much.”
Anthony chuckled.
“Maybe a little.”
She shook her head.
“Grandpa, you owe me.”
“I know.”
“A lot.”
“I know that, too.”
She looked at Denise.
“All right.”
Denise raised an eyebrow.
“All right what?”
Christina took a deep breath.
“I’ll do it.”
Anthony smiled.
“Thank you, honey.”
Christina pointed at him.
“But you had better make something out of that boat.”
Anthony nodded.
“I intend to.”
Denise gestured toward the barber chair.
“Then have a seat.”
Christina walked toward it.
She paused beside the footrest, looking at the chair for a moment.
Then she sat down.
Denise raised the chair slightly and turned it toward the mirror.
“How long have you been growing your hair?”
“A few years.”
“Ever had it really short?”
“Not like this.”
Denise smiled.
“Well, you’re certainly going to notice a difference.”
She unfolded a traditional striped barber cape and draped it over Christina’s shoulders.
The fabric settled across her arms and down over her knees.
Denise fastened the cape snugly around her neck.
Christina looked at herself in the mirror.
The cape concealed her clothing, leaving only her head visible above the striped fabric.
She swallowed.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
Anthony stood nearby.
“You’re a good girl, honey.”
Denise picked up a comb and began drawing Christina’s long hair back from her face.
“Last chance to change your mind.”
Christina looked at the clippers on the counter.
For a moment, she hesitated.
Then she shook her head.
“No. Go ahead.”
Denise picked up the electric clippers.
She removed the attachment guard and switched them on.
The motor produced a steady buzzing sound.
Christina watched the reflection of the clippers approaching her forehead.
Denise placed her free hand gently against the back of Christina’s head.
“Keep your head still.”
Christina nodded.
Denise tilted her head slightly backward.
Then she placed the clippers at the center of Christina’s front hairline.
The blades began moving backward.
A wide strip of hair disappeared as the clippers traveled toward the crown.
Long strands slid down the cape.
Christina stared at the exposed strip.
“Oh my God.”
Denise continued toward the back of her head.
When she lifted the clippers away, a pale path ran from Christina’s forehead toward her crown.
The contrast between the remaining long hair and the closely clipped strip was startling.
Christina reached toward her head.
Denise gently stopped her.
“Wait until I’m finished.”
Christina lowered her hand.
Denise returned the clippers to the front of her head, just beside the first strip.
Another pass sent more hair falling.
Then another.
Soon the entire top of Christina’s head had been reduced to short stubble.
The long hair remaining on the sides hung awkwardly below the closely shorn crown.
Anthony watched with fascination.
“Well, I’ll be damned.”
Christina looked toward him in the mirror.
“Grandpa, don’t.”
He smiled.
“Sorry, honey.”
Denise moved to Christina’s right side.
She carefully folded her ear down and ran the clippers upward from the sideburn area.
A thick section of hair fell onto the cape.
She repeated the movement, gradually removing the hair around the ear and toward the crown.
Then she moved to the left side.
Christina watched as the last long sections framing her face disappeared.
Her ears were now completely exposed.
Denise turned the chair slightly.
“Chin down.”
Christina lowered her head.
Denise brought the clippers to the nape of her neck and moved upward.
The remaining hair at the back came away in long sections.
Several strands slid over Christina’s shoulders and collected in her lap.
Denise continued until the back of her head matched the top and sides.
Finally she made several additional passes, checking for uneven patches.
She switched off the clippers.
The sudden silence seemed almost as noticeable as the buzzing had been.
Christina stared into the mirror.
Her long hair was gone.
Her scalp was covered only by a very short, even shadow of stubble.
Denise brushed the loose hairs from her neck and removed the cape.
Christina slowly raised both hands to her head.
She ran her palms from her forehead toward the back.
The sensation was entirely unfamiliar.
“Wow.”
Anthony smiled.
“Well, honey, it’ll grow back.”
Christina looked at him.
“It had better.”
Denise handed her a mirror so she could examine the back.
Christina turned it from side to side.
She was still shocked by her appearance.
But beneath that shock was another feeling she wasn’t quite ready to admit.
She had finally done something she’d wondered about for years.
Denise returned to the counter and retrieved an envelope.
Inside were the boat’s title and registration documents.
She prepared a bill of sale transferring the Trojan to Anthony for no money.
Anthony examined the paperwork carefully.
“Everything signed?”
“Everything’s signed.”
He nodded.
“Good.”
Denise handed him the envelope.
“Congratulations. You own a 1963 Trojan.”
Anthony smiled broadly.
“Thank you.”
Christina touched her head again.
“Now can we please go get this boat?”
Anthony laughed.
“Sure, honey.”
They stepped outside into the morning air.
Christina immediately noticed the breeze against her newly shaved scalp.
She looked toward her grandfather.
“You know, Grandpa, this is going to be one hell of a story.”
Anthony smiled.
“Yes, it is.”
She shook her head.
“And if that boat sinks, I’m never letting you forget this.”
Anthony laughed.
“Then I guess we’d better make sure it floats.”
Christina Balistrieri stepped outside Denise’s barbershop and immediately raised both hands to her head.
The early morning breeze felt entirely different against her scalp.
She rubbed her palms backward, then forward, feeling the faint stubble left by Denise’s clippers.
“Oh my God, Grandpa.”
Anthony looked over.
“What?”
“I can’t believe I actually did that.”
He smiled.
“Well, honey, it’ll grow back.”
Christina looked at him.
“That’s easy for you to say. You didn’t just lose all your hair.”
Anthony chuckled.
“Well, I haven’t exactly got much left myself.”
“Yeah, but you’re sixty-eight years old. I’m eighteen!”
They began walking toward the marina.
Christina glanced at her reflection in a storefront window.
For a moment, she barely recognized herself.
Her ears seemed more prominent, and the shape of her head was completely exposed. She ran her hand over her scalp again.
The sensation was strange, but not entirely unpleasant.
In fact, she was beginning to realize that part of her actually liked it.
She had wondered about shaving her head for years. Her mother had always been interested in dramatic haircuts, and Christina had quietly developed some of the same curiosity.
But now that she’d finally done it, she wasn’t quite sure how to explain it to anyone.
Especially her father.
She pulled out her cell phone.
“I suppose I’d better call Dad.”
Anthony nodded.
“Probably a good idea.”
She dialed Malcolm’s number.
He answered almost immediately.
“Hello?”
“Dad?”
“Yeah. What’s going on? Did Grandpa get the boat?”
“Yep.”
“You got the title?”
“Yeah. The woman signed everything over to him.”
“Well, I’ll be damned. How much did he have to pay?”
Christina hesitated.
“Nothing.”
Malcolm sounded surprised.
“Nothing?”
“Well, not exactly.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
Christina took a breath.
“She shaved my head.”
There was silence.
Then Malcolm spoke.
“She did what?”
“She shaved my head.”
“Christina, what the fuck are you talking about?”
Christina closed her eyes.
“Dad, please don’t start.”
“Don’t start? You’re telling me some woman shaved your head so Grandpa could get a free boat?”
“Yes.”
“Completely?”
“Yes, Dad.”
“Jesus Christ!”
Anthony could hear Malcolm’s voice through the phone.
Christina held it away from her ear.
Malcolm continued.
“Do you have any idea what the hell you’ve just done?”
“Dad, it’s hair.”
“It’s not just hair, Christina!”
She stopped walking.
“What do you mean?”
“You’re working in a charter business! You’re dealing with paying customers! People are spending good money to come out fishing with us!”
“So?”
“So you’ve got to present yourself professionally!”
Christina looked irritated.
“Dad, having a shaved head doesn’t mean I can’t run a boat.”
“That’s not what I’m saying!”
“Then what are you saying?”
“I’m saying people have expectations! We charge good money for our services, and now my eighteen-year-old captain is going to show up looking like she just got out of boot camp!”
Christina frowned.
“Maybe some customers won’t care.”
“Maybe they won’t! But why the hell take the chance?”
Anthony reached toward the phone.
“Let me talk to him.”
Christina handed it over.
“Malcolm?”
“Dad, what the hell were you thinking?”
Anthony looked surprised.
“What do you mean?”
“You let some woman shave Christina’s head for a forty-year-old wooden boat?”
“She agreed to it.”
“She’s eighteen years old!”
“That’s right. She’s an adult.”
Malcolm raised his voice.
“Dad, there would’ve been other opportunities to get you a boat!”
Anthony was quiet.
Malcolm continued.
“People give away boats all the time! We just looked at that Columbia! You could’ve had that one! We could’ve looked around for another cruiser!”
Anthony glanced toward the marina.
“Well, I liked this one.”
“You haven’t even inspected the damned thing properly! It’s sitting in a foot of water!”
“I know that.”
“And you let Christina get her head shaved for it?”
Anthony sighed.
“Malcolm, she made the decision herself.”
“Well, it was a stupid decision!”
Christina reached for the phone.
“Dad, give it a rest!”
Malcolm heard her.
“No, Christina, I’m not giving it a rest! You’ve got a captain’s license. You’ve spent two years learning this business. You’ve got an opportunity that other kids your age would kill to have!”
“I know that!”
“And now you’re running around making deals with some woman over a piece-of-shit wooden boat!”
Christina’s expression hardened.
“Maybe I wanted to do it.”
There was another silence.
Malcolm finally answered.
“Well, I hope you’re happy with it.”
Christina looked down.
“I haven’t decided yet.”
Anthony took the phone again.
“Malcolm, we’ll talk about this when we get back. Right now we’ve got a boat to move.”
Malcolm sighed.
“Fine. Just get back to the marina and call me.”
The call ended.
Christina slipped the phone into her pocket.
For several moments, they walked without speaking.
Then Anthony looked toward her.
“Honey, I’m sorry.”
Christina glanced at him.
“For what?”
“Getting you into trouble with your father.”
She shrugged.
“Dad gets mad about everything.”
“Well, he’s got a point about the charter business.”
Christina nodded.
“I know.”
Anthony stopped walking.
“Listen, there’s something I want you to understand.”
She turned toward him.
“What?”
“If you don’t want to help me restore that boat, you don’t have to.”
Christina looked surprised.
“But I made the agreement.”
“I know what you agreed to. But I’m not going to hold you to something like that if you don’t want to do it.”
“Grandpa—”
“No, listen. You’re eighteen. You’ve got your captain’s license. You’ve got your own life ahead of you. I don’t want you spending the next three or four years working on some old boat just because I wanted something to do.”
Christina smiled slightly.
“Grandpa, I want to help you.”
Anthony studied her.
“You do?”
“Yes.”
“Even after all this?”
She touched her head.
“Even after this.”
Anthony shook his head.
“Well, I don’t understand it.”
Christina laughed.
“There’s a lot you don’t understand.”
“Apparently.”
She began walking again.
“First of all, I made a commitment to Denise.”
Anthony nodded.
“All right.”
“And whether she’s actually a witch, or Wiccan, or just somebody who likes calling herself a witch, I gave her my word.”
Anthony looked at her.
“You’re taking that pretty seriously.”
“Yeah, I am.”
“Why?”
“Because I agreed to something. I don’t think it’s right to walk away from it just because I don’t like the consequences afterward.”
Anthony nodded slowly.
“Well, that’s a good attitude.”
“And there’s another reason.”
“What’s that?”
Christina looked toward him.
“I want to spend time with you.”
Anthony stopped.
“With me?”
“Yes, Grandpa.”
“Why?”
She laughed.
“Why wouldn’t I?”
Anthony shrugged.
“Well, I’m an old man. I don’t know what an eighteen-year-old girl would want to do hanging around with me.”
Christina smiled.
“That’s exactly the problem.”
“What is?”
“I don’t really know you that well.”
Anthony looked at her.
Christina continued.
“I mean, I know you’re my grandfather. I know you worked at AMC. I know you were involved with the union. I know you like cars and fixing things.”
She paused.
“But I don’t know very much about what you were like when you were younger.”
Anthony was quiet.
“I don’t know what you wanted to do when you were eighteen. I don’t know what you dreamed about. I don’t know what you did for fun.”
She looked toward the marina.
“And after listening to you talk about retirement and wanting a boat, I started thinking maybe this is a chance for us to do something together.”
Anthony swallowed.
“Well, honey, that’s awfully nice of you.”
Christina smiled.
“Besides, I know somebody else who would probably want to help.”
“Who’s that?”
“My boyfriend.”
Anthony looked interested.
“Your boyfriend knows something about boats?”
“Actually, yeah.”
“Really?”
Christina nodded.
“His family’s got an old wooden speedboat. It’s from around 1914.”
Anthony stopped walking again.
“1914?”
“Something like that. One of those really old wooden motorboats.”
“Well, I’ll be damned.”
Christina smiled.
“It’s beautiful now. All varnished wood, polished metal fittings, and a little windshield. You should see it.”
Anthony became interested.
“What kind of engine?”
“I’m not sure exactly what’s in it now. I know they’ve worked on the mechanical parts quite a bit.”
“Where’d they get it?”
“That’s the interesting part.”
Anthony looked at her.
“Go on.”
“Remember Frank Miller?”
Anthony immediately nodded.
“Of course I remember Frank Miller.”
“Well, the boat came out of his estate.”
Anthony looked surprised.
“You’re kidding.”
“Nope.”
“Frank Miller’s estate?”
“That’s what I was told.”
Anthony shook his head.
“Well, I’ll be damned. Frank had all kinds of things over the years.”
Christina continued.
“My boyfriend’s great-great-grandfather was the one who originally bought the boat. It stayed in the family for a long time, but somewhere along the way it ended up with Frank Miller.”
Anthony listened carefully.
“Then what happened?”
“After Frank died, the family was able to get it back through the estate.”
“And it was still in good shape?”
Christina laughed.
“Not even close.”
“How bad?”
“Really bad. The wood was deteriorated, the finish was gone, and there were all kinds of things that needed to be replaced.”
Anthony smiled.
“Sounds familiar.”
“They spent years restoring it. Replaced damaged wood, refinished everything, worked on the engine, and got it back into the water.”
Anthony shook his head.
“Well, that’s something.”
Christina nodded.
“And my boyfriend helped with some of the work.”
“How old is this boyfriend of yours?”
“He’s around my age.”
“And he knows how to work on wooden boats?”
“He knows more than I do. He’s really interested in them.”
Anthony smiled.
“Well, I’d sure like to meet him.”
Christina laughed.
“You’ve met him before, Grandpa.”
“Have I?”
“Yes!”
“Well, I meet a lot of people. I don’t remember everybody.”
She shook her head.
“He’s the one who’s always talking about old boats and engines.”
Anthony thought for a moment.
“Oh, that fellow!”
Christina laughed.
“Yes, that fellow.”
Anthony nodded.
“Well, I liked him.”
“Good.”
“And you think he’d be interested in helping us with the Trojan?”
“I think he’d love it.”
Anthony looked thoughtful.
“Well, that could work out pretty damned well.”
Christina smiled.
“That’s what I was thinking.”
“Between the three of us, we could get a lot done.”
“And Dad might help, too.”
Anthony chuckled.
“Your father doesn’t want anything to do with that boat.”
“He might change his mind.”
“Not after what happened to your hair.”
Christina laughed.
“Probably not.”
Anthony looked toward the river.
“You know, honey, I really don’t expect you to spend every free minute working on this thing.”
“I know.”
“You’ve got your charter work. You’ve got school and whatever else you want to do. And you’ve got your boyfriend.”
Christina nodded.
“But I can still help.”
Anthony smiled.
“Well, I’d appreciate that.”
She looked at him.
“And I want you to teach me things.”
“Like what?”
“Woodworking. How to fix the hull. How to replace damaged boards. How to work on the engines. All that stuff.”
Anthony smiled.
“Well, I can certainly teach you some of it. And we’ll probably both have to learn a few things along the way.”
“That’s fine.”
He looked toward her.
“You know, when I was working all those years, I always thought the most important thing I could do for my family was make money.”
Christina listened.
“I figured if everybody had a roof over their heads, food on the table, and decent clothes, I was doing my job.”
He paused.
“But maybe I should’ve spent a little more time doing things with them.”
Christina smiled.
“Well, you’ve got time now.”
Anthony looked at her.
“Yeah.”
He smiled.
“I guess I do.”
They continued walking toward the marina.
After a while, Christina reached up and rubbed her head again.
Anthony noticed.
“Still getting used to it?”
She laughed.
“Yeah.”
“Regretting it?”
Christina thought for a moment.
“Not exactly.”
Anthony looked puzzled.
“What does that mean?”
She smiled.
“It means I’m still figuring out how I feel about it.”
Anthony nodded.
“Fair enough.”
Christina glanced toward him.
“Besides, Mom’s probably going to think it’s interesting.”
Anthony laughed.
“Your mother?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, I suppose she’s had some pretty short haircuts herself.”
Christina smiled.
“Exactly.”
Anthony shook his head.
“Well, between you and your mother, I don’t know what to think anymore.”
They approached the marina.
The old Trojan was visible beyond the dock.
Anthony stopped and looked at it.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Christina said, “You know something, Grandpa?”
“What’s that?”
“I think we can make that boat beautiful again.”
Anthony looked at her.
“You really think so?”
“Yeah.”
She smiled.
“And I think my boyfriend’s going to love working on it.”
Anthony nodded.
“Well, then maybe we’ll have ourselves a pretty good little crew.”
Christina laughed.
“An eighteen-year-old charter captain, her sixty-eight-year-old grandfather, and a boyfriend who likes hundred-year-old wooden boats.”
Anthony smiled.
“Sounds like a hell of a crew to me.”
He looked toward the Trojan again.
“And you know what?”
“What?”
“If we get that damned thing restored, maybe we’ll take it out on Lake Michigan and do some fishing.”
Christina grinned.
“Maybe we will.”
Anthony put an arm around her shoulders.
“Thank you, honey.”
She looked up at him.
“For what?”
“For giving an old man something to look forward to.”
Christina smiled.
“You’re welcome, Grandpa.”
They continued down the dock together.
For Anthony, the Trojan was no longer simply a free boat.
It was a chance to build something with his granddaughter.
And for Christina, the unusual bargain she’d made that morning was beginning to feel less like a sacrifice and more like the beginning of an adventure.
When they reached the marina, Anthony called Malcolm.
“Well, son, we’ve got the paperwork.”
Malcolm answered from the Bayliner, which Sue had brought back toward the docks.
“Everything signed?”
“Yep. Title, registration, bill of sale. It’s all legitimate.”
“Good. Let’s get this thing out of here.”
Sue carefully brought the Bayliner alongside the dock.
Christina stepped aboard first, and Anthony followed.
Malcolm looked at his daughter.
For a moment, he simply stared.
Then he shook his head.
“Jesus Christ, Christina.”
She folded her arms.
“Dad, please.”
“You really did it.”
“Yes.”
He looked toward Anthony.
“Dad, I still can’t believe you let this happen.”
Anthony sighed.
“Malcolm, we’ve already talked about it.”
“Well, we’re going to talk about it again when we get home.”
Sue looked at Christina.
“Oh my God.”
Christina touched her head.
“Mom, don’t.”
Sue smiled slightly.
“Well, it’s certainly different.”
Christina laughed.
“That’s one way of putting it.”
Malcolm shook his head.
“Can we please concentrate on getting this damned boat out of here?”
Anthony held up the envelope.
“That’s what I’ve been trying to do.”
They began preparing the tow line.
But before they could finish, Jerry came walking down the dock.
He looked toward Anthony.
“Hey, old man.”
Anthony turned.
“Yeah?”
“You said your name was Balistrieri?”
“That’s right.”
Jerry narrowed his eyes.
“You don’t happen to have a son named Malcolm, do you?”
Anthony froze for a fraction of a second.
Then he shook his head.
“Nope.”
Jerry looked suspicious.
“You sure?”
Anthony smiled.
“Well, I’ve got a son named Marty.”
Jerry stared at him.
“Marty?”
“Yep.”
Jerry scratched his head.
“That’s pretty damned close.”
Anthony laughed.
“What are you, one of those psychic people?”
Jerry didn’t laugh.
“No. I just know a Malcolm Balistrieri.”
Anthony shrugged.
“Well, it’s a common enough name.”
Jerry shook his head.
“I don’t think so.”
He looked toward the Bayliner.
“That son of a bitch sold me advertising when I opened this marina.”
Anthony looked interested.
“Advertising?”
“Yeah. Told me he’d get my business all kinds of exposure. I paid him a lot of money.”
“And?”
“And I didn’t get shit out of it!”
Anthony nodded sympathetically.
“Well, that’s unfortunate.”
Jerry continued.
“That bastard took my money and promised me all kinds of customers. I got practically nothing.”
Anthony shook his head.
“Sounds like you had a bad experience.”
“You bet your ass I did!”
Back aboard the Bayliner, Malcolm had heard enough.
He quickly disappeared down into the cabin.
Sue watched him go.
“Where are you going?”
“Downstairs.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want that guy seeing me!”
Sue shook her head.
“Unbelievable.”
Back on the dock, Jerry continued staring at Anthony.
“You sure you don’t have a son named Malcolm?”
Anthony smiled.
“Nope. Marty.”
Jerry shook his head.
“Well, this is just too damned strange.”
Anthony held up the envelope.
“Anyway, I’ve got the title to the Trojan and a signed bill of sale. We’re here to move it.”
Jerry looked at the papers.
“Well, I’ll be damned.”
Anthony nodded.
“Everything’s legitimate.”
Jerry sighed.
“Fine. Just get the damned thing out of here.”
They arranged the tow line and carefully freed the Trojan from its berth.
The old wooden cruiser moved reluctantly at first, its hull sitting low in the water.
Sue eased the Bayliner forward.
The tow line tightened.
Slowly, the Trojan began moving away from the dock.
Anthony stood watching, his face filled with excitement.
Christina stood beside him, rubbing her newly shaved head.
“Grandpa, this had better be worth it.”
Anthony smiled.
“It will be, honey.”
The Trojan cleared the dock.
Sue carefully guided the two boats toward the wider part of the river.
Once they were safely away, Malcolm emerged from the cabin.
“Is that guy gone?”
Sue laughed.
“Yes, Malcolm. He’s gone.”
Malcolm looked back toward the marina.
“Good.”
Anthony grinned.
“Well, son, I guess that was another one of your satisfied customers.”
Malcolm burst out laughing.
“Yeah, Dad. Another satisfied customer.”
Sue laughed as she continued guiding the Bayliner down the Milwaukee River.
Behind them, the old 1963 Trojan wooden cruiser followed slowly on the tow line.
Its paint was peeling.
Its woodwork was weathered.
Its cabin was dirty.
Its bilge contained water.
And nobody knew whether its engines would ever run again.
But Anthony Balistrieri didn’t care.
For the first time since retiring, he had something to look forward to.
A project.
A challenge.
A reason to get out of his chair in the morning.
And as the lights of Milwaukee reflected across the river, Anthony looked back at the old Trojan and smiled.
He finally had his boat.
It had only taken thirty-five years.
And one very unexpected haircut.
