Chapter 13
By mid-afternoon, the highway gave way to winding coastal roads flanked by towering pine forests and salt-weathered wooden fences. The village of Port Clyde was small, nestled around a natural harbor where colorful lobster boats bobbed gently against gray wooden docks under a canopy of drifting gulls. The air smelled intensely of brine, drying kelp, and woodsmoke curling from stone chimneys.
Arthur parked his truck near the edge of the public dock, right beside a weathered marine supply shed bearing a faded hand-painted sign: SULLIVAN BOAT REPAIR – ENGINE OVERHAULS & FIBERGLASS WORK. He killed the engine, stepped out onto the crushed shell path, and felt the cool ocean breeze catch the collar of his canvas jacket.
His hiking boots crunched softly as he walked toward the open doors of the boat shed. Inside, the cavernous space was filled with the smell of fresh resin, curing fiberglass, and machine oil. A wooden fishing skiff rested on steel sawhorses in the center of the room, its hull half-stripped for sanding.
A woman stood near the workbench at the far end of the shed, wearing a faded blue denim jumpsuit with her blonde hair tied back in a loose ponytail, using a pneumatic sander to smooth a patch of resin. The high-pitched whine of the tool filled the room, masking his approach.
Arthur stopped a few feet away, leaning his hands against the edge of a work table, watching her work with the same meticulous, exacting precision he had seen in her childhood drawings and her corporate blueprints. She looked older, lines of quiet fatigue etched around her eyes, but her posture carried a resilient strength that the corporate suits had failed to break.
He reached into his side pocket and placed the small titanium ring gently on the wooden workbench beside her sander, right where the vibration would catch her attention.
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Clara shut off the sander. The sudden silence in the shed was absolute, broken only by the gentle lapping of seawater against the pilings outside and the low screech of a distant gull. She reached down to brush a layer of fiberglass dust off her work area, and her fingers brushed against the cold metal ring.
She froze instantly. The sander slipped from her hand, clattering against the concrete floor.
