Sailing at Sunset Read online

  Table Of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Crunchy Salmon Cakes

  About the Author

  Beach Wedding Weekend excerpt

  Sailing at Sunset

  Copyright @ 2020 Crown Media Publishing LLC

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereinafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Paperback: 978-1-947892-75-0

  eBook: 978-1-947892-76-7

  www.hallmarkpublishing.com

  To my two pretty kitties, who spent most of the time I was writing this sleeping in my inbox,

  only to wake up, stand in front of my monitor, and demand attention.

  Chapter One

  A happy ping echoed through the cubicle, and Danae’s heart beat faster. This was the moment of truth, and no matter the outcome, it meant doing one of her favorite things in the world: crossing off a to-do list item.

  In glitter pen, of course.

  People who thought organization was boring simply weren’t doing it right. Tingles coursed through Danae as she flipped open her planner and found the goal digger sticker she’d placed next to the neatly written “Meeting with Mr. Barton.”

  Red was a power color, so she decided to go bold and use it to check the box.

  Apprehension twisted her gut as she smoothed a hand down her hair. Thanks to the humidity in Newport, Rhode Island, she’d given up straightening her dirty-blond locks long ago, embracing loose curls as her signature style. She bent and checked her teeth in her computer monitor, ensuring that none of the raspberry seeds from her smoothie had gotten stuck.

  This wasn’t just a meeting. It was the meeting. The one where she found out whether or not she’d be the new Chief Marketing Officer. If it went well, she’d be able to flip to the very front page of her planner and cross off one of the long-term goals she’d made six months ago—at the very beginning of the year.

  That’d call for glittery orange ink, the color of success.

  Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. There was a difference between confidence and presumptuousness, and Danae knew better than to rely on anything that wasn’t a certainty.

  As she pushed to her feet, her hand automatically went to the golden Athena charm on her necklace. Although she wasn’t superstitious—people were responsible for making their own luck—she rubbed the trinket. Mostly out of habit and because it reminded her of her mother.

  Mom’s obsession with Greek mythology was how Danae had ended up with her name. Dad had been unsure at first, but Mom mentioned the part of the tale in which Danae and her son, Perseus, were set adrift at sea, had help from Poseidon, and found refuge on a fishing island.

  Everything came down to sailing and fishing with Dad. A bittersweet smile curved her lips, residual grief drifting up and squeezing at her chest. He’d passed away nearly two decades ago but missing him occasionally caught her off-guard.

  Danae readjusted her chunky black frames, inching them up her nose, and then tugged at the red cardigan covering her black and white dress. In a sea of sensible, her red patent leather pumps were her one impractical indulgence.

  The clack, clack, clack they made on the beautiful wooden floors of the Barton Boating Company office made her feel more confident, her chin automatically hitching higher. Each step was a punctuation, a reminder she could be firm and powerful, even if it’d taken her thirty-six years to get there.

  Her pace faltered as she passed by Mark, who glanced up as she neared his desk. Like a deer in ex-boyfriend headlights she froze, and awkwardness crowded the air. Silly, considering they’d broken up before Christmas of last year.

  Mark skimmed a hand over his trim, sandy brown hair, as if ensuring each strand was still in place. Naturally they all were, much like his suit, tie, and shirt, which appeared to be right out of a glossy magazine ad. “Best of luck to you on your meeting, Danae,” he said, and while she searched for any hint of disingenuity, she came up blank.

  Yeah, the other person up for the promotion was none other than her ex. Since Mark had dumped her out of the blue seven months ago, they’d done an odd sort of dance at the office, following the boundaries he’d made: no personal talk at work, always use a polite tone, and avoid being alone in a room if possible so they could remain amicable.

  The guy loved his boundaries—namely ones that prevented people from getting too close. He had always been better at repressing his emotions, too, whereas she’d worn hers on her sleeve. Now she played things closer to the chest. “Thank you, Mark. To you as well.”

  “…been doing it this way for five years. Our target market doesn’t care if their nail polish matches the boat.” Paige’s voice drifted over to them, and Danae peeked over the top of Mark’s workstation to see Vanessa, Barton’s social media manager, standing next to Paige, the head of PR.

  The two women were opposites on every side of the spectrum. Paige was young and petite, with red hair and a fair complexion, and preferred the tried and true.

  While pushing fifty, Vanessa was chic, savvy, and had a better nightlife than Danae ever would. Thanks to a background discovering and promoting beauty bloggers, her jet-black curls and bronze skin were always flawless, although her ideas were occasionally too hip and impractical for their boat-buying audience. “Well, if we don’t change with the trends, we’ll find ourselves behind them. And when it comes to my proposed yacht spa day, manis and pedis are only the tip of the luxurious iceberg.”

  “Hmm. When I think of icebergs and ships, I can’t help but think of the Titanic. A good idea in theory, but I’m sure you’ll remember how that turned out.”

  Usually their bickering made Danae’s eye twitch—primarily because it drew out meetings for longer than scheduled. But at the present moment, it made it easier for her to disengage from Mark, call forth her confidence, and make the rest of the walk to Mr. Walter Barton’s office.

  Danae rapped on the open door and stepped inside. Too bad his floors were carpeted and muffled her formidable footsteps. Mahogany shelves with dozens of awards and framed news articles lined the back wall and matched the desk Mr. Barton sat behind.

  He flashed her a smile, his round ruddy cheeks popping out above his wiry gray mous
tache. With his refined suits and penchant for fedoras, she could just picture him at home in a grand library, smoking a pipe and wearing a monocle. “Right on time, as always.”

  “And I always will be,” she said.

  As she turned to close the door, she caught sight of Franco, Barton Boats’ web developer, through the open gap. He was just a couple of years older than her, and he was her closest friend at the office. His dark eyebrows arched encouragingly, and he gave her a big thumbs-up. The cardboard cup and the bag in his hand made it clear he’d chosen to go for a coffee run at their favorite shop instead of answering her email about how nervous she was, but since he’d managed to make her smile, she supposed she’d forgive him. She had a long history of heartfelt talks and happy dinners with Franco and his delightful husband, Justin, so she’d let him off this time.

  As long as one of the pastries in that bag was for her.

  The door closed with a snick, and a few more steps took Danae to the edge of Mr. Barton’s desk. A golden frame caught her eye, one she’d never noticed before. “Is that new?”

  Thanks to being a pinch nervous and a lot overzealous with her gesture, her trembling hand smacked the picture right off the desk.

  “Shoot, I’m so sorry.” Danae scooped it up, now grateful for the soft, forgiving carpeting. She returned the photo to the corner of the desk, plastered her arms to her sides, and prayed her face wasn’t as flushed as it felt.

  “Don’t worry about it.” Mr. Barton swiveled the picture his way and fondly studied the image of his younger self and three buddies in dark blue uniforms. “Back in my Navy days.”

  Thanks to extensive Googling before her interview, Danae knew Walter had been stationed at the naval base in Connecticut. Once he retired, he returned to Newport, where his family had founded and run Barton Boats since the 1930s.

  “There’s nothing like being out in the open water, on the confines of a boat, to get to know people very well in a short amount of time. Lieutenant Jeffers drove me crazy at first.” Mr. Barton tapped the image of the guy to the right of him in the photo. “But having to work so closely with him led me to understand his viewpoint and how to best utilize our strengths and weaknesses. Now he’s one of my oldest friends.”

  The way he talked about the lieutenant sent a warm fuzzy sensation through Danae. Surely this was the type of inspirational story that led up to giving her the promotion.

  Right?

  Deep down, she knew she was the perfect candidate for the Chief Marketing Officer position. While a tad biased on the subject, she worked longer hours, could multitask better than anyone else in the office, and was way more creative than Mark—who most certainly did not use color-coded glitter pens.

  “I won’t hold you in suspense any longer,” Mr. Barton said, and Danae held her breath, alternating between visualizing her success and assuring herself she’d be okay either way, even if it would hurt her pride to lose one more thing to Mark. “As you know, I adored your pitch for our new campaign.” Her boss made an invisible rainbow with his hands. “Barton Boats. Not just a boat, but a lifestyle.”

  This seemed rather like suspense, but Danae didn’t say so.

  “It’s brilliant,” he said. “As are you.”

  Is there a but in there? Please don’t let there be a but. “Thank you, sir.”

  “That’s why I’m appointing you Barton Boating Company’s Chief Marketing Officer.”

  Time stopped.

  Then sped up.

  Since jumping up and down and squealing the way she had at a reunion boy band concert (not all that long ago) wasn’t professional, she kept it to a contented expression and slight nod. “I won’t let you down.”

  “I want you to oversee the changes that’ll incorporate our new slogan, start to finish. This means you’ll be heading up advertising, PR, social media, the website—all of it. You’re going to be the team leader, and that comes with a lot of responsibility. Extra stress, too.”

  “I’m ready,” Danae promised. She’d worked to put herself through college and had secured a job before graduation. Work gave her a sense of satisfaction she hadn’t found anywhere else. Plus, the bump in salary would help her achieve her other long-term goals.

  Nothing showed you how important it was to live well within your means like almost losing the roof over your head. Her parents had never bothered with a backup plan or savings, and after Dad died, the bank had come dangerously close to foreclosing on their home. Never again.

  “Whenever you have time, I’d love to run a few ideas by you,” she added. Over this past month, she’d felt a little crazy spending all her spare time on concepts that could very well go nowhere, but it’d been worth it. “I can’t wait to implement them.”

  Mr. Barton held up a hand. “I appreciate your excitement, but for now, I’m considering this an interim position.”

  For now? Interim? The air whooshed out of her, taking her enthusiasm along with it. “I, um…What exactly does that mean?”

  “It’s important to build a strong connection with your team.” The leather chair creaked as Mr. Barton leaned forward. “It’ll be your biggest challenge, honestly. While I admire your drive, sometimes…” As he paused, her anxious imagination supplied a dozen caveats. “You need to learn to look at things from others’ perspectives. To fully listen and process before you jump to do it your own way. I have faith in you, Danae, but I need to see what you’re made of. I need to see that you’re capable of being a team player.”

  Danae worked to hold her smile in place. Criticism—constructive or not—had always been hard for her to hear. Part of the reason she’d become so organized was to avoid making mistakes. “I’ll work on that, Mr. Barton. I promise.”

  “Happy to hear it.” He picked up the photo she’d accidentally knocked over and tapped the faces behind the glass. “As I mentioned earlier, there’s a surefire way to do precisely that. And we just so happen to sell boats.”

  It felt like he’d given her half of an equation, and without the rest, how could she possibly solve for X? She didn’t want to start off her trial period asking for clarification, yet confusion set in, leaving the wheels in her mind spinning.

  Glee danced along the curve of Mr. Barton’s smile and managed to catapult her apprehension to the next level. “I’m sending you and the team on an eight-day chartered cruise. Everyone’s done so well this past quarter, so it’ll be half reward, and half bonding exercise. It’ll also be the perfect way for you to prove to me that I made the right call. Come back with a solid marketing plan that everyone’s agreed upon, and I’ll make the position official.”

  Danae’s stomach dropped down in the vicinity of her pretty shoes. Mr. Barton added a wink. What did that mean?

  That he was joking?

  Please let him be joking.

  Mr. Barton’s gray eyebrows scrunched up, a couple of the wiry hairs catching the sunlight streaming through the giant window to his right. “I thought you’d be happy. After all, when you interviewed for your position, you mentioned how much you loved sailing when you were growing up.”

  Ah, yes. The reason he’d hired her on the spot—her sailing knowledge. Honestly, she had loved it. Those afternoons on the boat made up the best memories she had of her dad.

  Once she’d helped Mom with the finances, though, Danae saw how much he had poured into the dilapidated boat. A vessel he’d had no idea how to fix, but sure spent a big chunk of change trying to.

  There was an old saying, never repeated in the office: The two best days of a boat owner’s life are the day they buy a boat, and the day they sell it. Boats were expensive to maintain. Add in a myriad of fishing gear, and the fact that Dad played hooky a little too frequently, and a stampede of creditors had nearly trampled their family.

  Which was one of the main reasons that these days, Danae was all about selling boats instead of sailing them. “I d
o. I’m just not sure that right now, when we’re launching a new campaign and website, is the best time to head out on the open sea.”

  “Nonsense,” he said, swiping a hand through the air. “It’s excellent timing. A change in environment will foster creativity, will push you to grow closer, and you’ll be able to have meetings between ports. Vanessa has already planned an entire week of social media around it. She has so many ideas on how to improve our online presence, so I let her in on the secret, and then she was off and talking up a storm in that fast way she has.”

  As Vanessa was the newest member of their team, it seemed a bit strange that he’d confided in her first, but as Mr. Barton said, the woman was full of ideas. Not to mention, Danae had been preoccupied with landing the promotion.

  Wait. That meant Vanessa and Paige would be on a boat together—no chance to retreat to their separate corners for some cool-down time between disagreements. That could get dicey.

  Another realization barreled into Danae, one that made a tight band form around her chest. Eight whole days at sea with her ex-boyfriend. Despite their attempts to remain professional, there’d been enough guardedness following the breakup that the team had noticed. Even though it was better now, they worked in different departments for the most part.

  She had already worried that with one of them getting the promotion, it would obliterate the barrier they’d erected to keep the peace. Take away a thousand square feet of office space, and things on the sailboat would get up close and too-personal, fast.

  Vaguely, she heard the sound of a desk drawer opening and an accompanying flutter. “I’ve already chartered the trip and drafted the itinerary.” Mr. Barton extended a sheet of paper, his expression making it clear she needed to get onboard—literally.

  Danae tapped into her enthusiasm for her new title—one she planned on earning permanently—and let that shine through. “When’s our push-off date? I’ll get it in my planner and begin scheduling the entire trip so we can be as successful and productive as possible.”