Chapter Six, part one

Violet was taking tea with the other ladies in the drawing room when Earl Tibbens walked in.

“We’re on,” he said with a broad wink at Flora. “Everything’s ready.”

Since she’d been seated next to Earl during their luncheon of tomato soup and squab, Violet was well aware that “everything” was an expedition aboard the Delphine, his racing yacht.

Flora set her teacup down with a clink. “Splendid. Wear your short skirts and pin your hair down tight, girls. This is no quiet cruiser. Earl likes to take her out fast, don’t you, Earl?”

“I do,” he acknowledged, a hand in his pocket. “But I’ll have a care today. Just a scenic tour of the bay, maybe a loop around Rose Island. Nothing to frighten the non-sailors among us. Or at least,” he said, his grin cocking sideways, “not too much.”

As the group broke up to change their clothes for the outing, Sadie turned to Violet. “You will come, won’t you?”

“I…well, I was going to start in on my article about Mrs. Moorman.”

“Oh, you must come. Please.”

Warmth spread across Violet’s chest. To be wanted was lovely, and this might be her chance to remind Sadie about the school application. “All right. I suppose I should go as a chaperone, if nothing else, even if it is a group party.”

Sadie snorted. “I hardly need you to chaperone. Mrs. Poosey will be there. But good, I’m glad you’ll come. I don’t want to be the one with the odd sister.”

Violet pressed her lips together. “Are you sure you won’t be nervous to go on a boat, out to sea?”

Their eyes met, and a look of understanding passed between them, but Sadie shook it off. “Pff! We aren’t in danger of being torpedoed in Narragansett Bay!”

--

The sound of quick footsteps made Charlie lift his head.

“Oh, hello,” said the velvety voice. Her voice. “I was looking for you.” She sounded breezy, as if the wind had carried her in. “Say, Sadie’s talked me into a yachting expedition. Apparently, everyone’s going, and she says I must or she’ll die of embarrassment. I don’t suppose you’d care to join?”

His torso clenched. “Thank you, no,” he said, answering before the thought had swirled even once through his brain. But really, the idea! A blind man on a yacht? What would he do? Cling to the gunwales? Lie flat on the deck and pray?

“I’m sure it’s very safe,” she said. Then she laughed. “At least, I hope it is.”

“Another time.” He smiled in what he hoped was her direction. How he longed for a tall drink, followed by a second. “It was good of you to think of me.”

She left, taking all sound with her. Charlie sat in silence, both regretting and praising his decision. Life in the dark was terrifying enough. He didn’t need to be heeling over water he couldn’t see, at the mercy of sailors he couldn’t see, trusting everyone to not get him killed.

I’m done with assuming I won’t die, he thought. Then, to underscore that statement, he clapped both feet on the ground, enjoying the echo of his shoes on the pavers. The echo died, and silence swarmed in. Thick silence. Charlie rose and shuffled to the door. It might be fun to listen to them head off. He hated hearing the other men, the boisterous hale and hearty men, but it would be worth it to catch Violet again. If he made it to the cars, she might speak with him one more time before she ventured out.