But laying at anchor wasn’t going to make those dreams come true. There were almost forty miles between me and that harbour. With a decent wind, I’d make the trip in three or four hours. After that, it was a matter of waiting; waiting for the tide, waiting for the sounder to map the moorages. And waiting for a certain 28-foot sloop to arrive. My whole day was going to be a case of “hurry up and wait”.A leisurely breakfast filled in some of the time. Cleaning out the cabin, checking and tuning the rigging consumed some more of it. I hoisted the sails just as the Klayquot ferry rounded the point on its way north. That would make it about noon. Five hours from now and the tide would almost be high enough to scoot straight into the harbour itself, and it would be light enough to find a decent spot to drop anchor. It was that last wait, the one until Brandy was back in my arms, that would fray my nerves like an old piece of manilla line.They say that the best plans of mice and men often. "Tamara nodded."Shall we go inside?" suggested Theresa. "We can discuss matters in more comfort there."Tamara escorted Theresa to the living room where the television was burbling on about the outbreak of plague in Ireland and the suspicion expressed by Irish scientists had that it might be associated with a genetic engineering lab based in England. Tamara turned off the set and settled into the sofa while Theresa sat primly in the leather armchair opposite."As you probably know, Tamara," said Theresa, "there was no will left by the deceased. That's no surprise. The real surprise is that Zoe survived so long after all those years of sustained drug abuse. My mother was next in line to inherit the St. John-Easton estate and even that was hard to demonstrate in court. This was especially so since she died a few years ago. And that means the entire estate has been bequeathed to me." Was your mother related to Zoe?" wondered Tamara."Only through her grandfather. And she was hardly at all.
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