Three Fates

items off on a clipboard as she worked.
    She wore jeans faded to nearly white at the stress points, and a bright blue sweater with the sleeves shoved up to her elbows. In them she appeared slim and slight. There was a shoulder-length tumble of curls spilling out of her blue cap. The hair color his mother would have called strawberry blond.
    A pair of dark glasses and the cap’s brim shielded most of her face, but what he could see—a full, unpainted mouth, a strong curve of jawline—was a nice addition to the view.
    She moved forward, her steps quick and confident as the boat swayed in its slip, and continued her checklist on the bridge.
    She sure as hell wasn’t Malachi Sullivan, Jack surmised, but she had to be a link to him.
    “Ahoy, The Maid ,” he called out and waited on the dock while she turned, head cocked, and spotted him.
    “Ahoy, the dock. Can I help you with something?”
    “I’m going out.” He took the voucher out of his pocket, held it up where the frisky wind whipped at it. “Is it okay to come aboard now?”
    “You can, sure if you like. We won’t be leaving for about twenty minutes.”
    She tucked the clipboard under her arm and walked over, prepared to offer him a hand on the long step from dock to deck. She realized he wouldn’t need it. He moved well, and was fit enough, she concluded. Quite fit enough, she thought as she admired the strong build.
    She admired the leather bomber jacket he wore as well, the fact that it was soft and battered. She had a weakness for good texture.
    “Do I give this to you?” he asked.
    “You do indeed.” She accepted the voucher, then turned over her clipboard, flipping a page to the passenger list. “Mr. Burdett, is it?”
    “It is. And you’re . . .”
    She glanced up, then shifted the clipboard again to take the hand he offered. “I’m Rebecca. I’ll be your captain and tour guide today. I’ve yet to start the tea, but I’ll have it going shortly. Just make yourself comfortable. It’s a fine day for a sail, and I’ll see you have a good ride.”
    I’ll bet you will, he thought. Rebecca, Becca for short, Sullivan. She’d had a tough little hand and a good firm grip. And a voice like a siren.
    After she tucked the clipboard in a bracket, she headed back to stern, turned into a tiny galley. When he followed, she sent him a friendly smile over her shoulder.
    “Would this be your first visit to Cobh, then?”
    “Yes. It’s beautiful.”
    “It is, yes.” She set a kettle on the single burner, then got out the makings for tea. “One of the jewels of Ireland, we like to think. You’ll get some of the history during the tour. There’s but twelve passengers on this trip, so I’ll have plenty of time to answer any questions you might have. You’re from America, then?”
    “Yes. New York.”
    Her mouth turned down in a sulk. “Seems everybody’s going or coming from New York these days.”
    “Sorry?”
    “Oh, it’s nothing.” She gave a little shrug. “My brother just left for New York this morning.”
    Well, hell, Jack thought but kept his expression neutral. “He’s having a holiday?”
    “It’s business. But he’ll see it all, won’t he? Again. And I’ve never.” She pulled off her sunglasses, hooked them on her sweater while she measured the tea.
    Now he got a good, close look at her face. It was better, he decided, even better than he’d anticipated. Her eyes were a cool and misty green against skin as white and pure as marble. And she smelled, since he was close enough to catch her scent, like peaches and honey.
    “It’s very exciting, isn’t it, New York City? All the people and the buildings. Shops and restaurants and theaters, and just everything and more all jammed into one place. I’d like a look at it myself. Excuse me, the others are starting to queue up on the dock. I need to check them in.”
    He stayed back at the stern, but he turned, slowly, to watch her.
    She felt him watching her as she checked in the passengers, made them welcome. When they were settled, she introduced herself, made the standard safety announcements. Just as the cathedral bells began to ring the noon hour, she cast off.
    “Thanks, Jimmy!” She waved to the dockhand who secured her line, then eased the boat out of the slip and into Cork Harbor. Piloting one-handed, she took up a microphone.
    “It’s my mother, Eileen, who’s going to be entertaining you for the next little while. She was born here in Cobh, though we’re