Houseboat
Chapter One
By Katrina
copyright © 2009
In the late spring of 2008, Ruby Davenport left the comfortable life she had lived for the past fifteen years and said goodbye to her unfaithful husband, Trey, after packing her forest green Land Rover full of suitcases and boxes of knick-knacks, the Cuisinart, Robot Coupe and Trey’s favorite putter. It was a big step. A step she had wanted to take for the last several years. The divorce was final in late fall and Ruby walked away from her fifteen-year broken marriage with the hefty sum of $2,552,000 and a hard heart. She was thirty-six years old, very pretty, a little overweight, and totally bitter; but quite wealthy. She stayed with her younger sister, Amelia, for months and finally did what she always wanted to do. She bought a houseboat, parked it in Mantoloking on the Bay and started painting again.
“You’re nuts,” Amelia cried, when Ruby showed her the picture of her new home.
“Why?” Ruby asked, tucking her long, auburn hair behind one ear. “I love the water, but don’t really like sailing. I always wanted a houseboat. Or a motor home, but since I hate driving long distances and don’t want to live in a trailer park, this seemed ideal.”
“Rubes, you just need to meet a nice man and feel good about yourself again. Trey fucked you up. He was a big, lying cheat and you deserve better. It’s time for you.”
“I know, Melia,” Ruby said, smiling at her little sister. “You’re right, as you always are. And I am so excited to get back to painting and finally be happy. I need you to help me decorate the place.”
“Do you name a houseboat?” Amelia wondered.
“I’ll have to check out my neighbors to see what they do,” Ruby said. “But I have a name ready.”
“Which is?”
“Free.”
“Original,” laughed Amelia. “Somehow, I think Trey would beg to differ.”
“Yes, well, I might be, but he certainly paid the cost of freedom.”
“Good.” Amelia’s voice verged on vindictive.
Her family had never liked Trey. They saw him for what he was, when she was blinded by his beauty and easy charm.
“Pryor is coming down to stay with me for a little while once I get settled,” Ruby told her sister.
“Wow, you must have special gifts,” Amelia said. Their brother was a notorious hermit. He rarely left his cottage in the Adirondacks. A writer, he liked his solitude and the beautiful surroundings of his mountain retreat.
“I think he’s worried about me,” Ruby admitted.
“We’re all worried about you,” her sister said. “Mom and Dad call me every day for friggin’ updates. Would you please just call them once in a while.”
“They’re kind of annoying. Mom always asks if I’ve gotten my karma together and Dad wants me to go work at his firm. No thank you.”
“It’s what they do,” Amelia said. “They do annoying and they do it well, but they are our parents and they love you.”
“And I love them. But I don’t want to be dissected right now. I joined Weightwatchers. My houseboat has a gym, with a sauna, no less. I am going to whip my own ass into shape. And then I’ll invite everyone down for Memorial Day to celebrate the new Free Ruby.”
“I’m going to miss you. It’s been really nice having you here.”
“I’ll only be a half an hour away. You can come down anytime.”
“Okay,” Amelia sighed. “And, since I’m decorating this tub, I’m going to have to come down and take measurements, discuss color and fabrics. What about tomorrow?”
“Perfect.”
Ruby went to bed that night in her sister’s spare bedroom with a smile on her lips. For once, she didn’t have nightmares about Trey and his cruel taunts about her weight, her deficiencies as a wife and his many mistresses. Instead, she had sweet dreams of a little boy, laughing in delight on the deck of his mother’s houseboat.
She woke up with her face wet from tears.
In the morning, she packed up her car and made plans to meet her sister at the houseboat at noon. As she drove down the Parkway, she thought about her new life and felt something like happiness. For once, she didn’t have to worry about anyone but herself. It wasn’t a selfish thought; it was a truly enabling emotion. She wondered what she would do with her newfound time. Maybe she would get a pet.
There was a privet-lined walk along the dock, shielding her driveway from the boat. A little overgrown garden with some blossoming perennials nudged against the hedge and she couldn’t wait to plant some flowers when she was settled into her new home. A burnished wooden walkway led to the deck of her houseboat and she felt a thrill when she carried her suitcases over the narrow expanse of water onto the deck. It was quite gorgeous. There was gleaming woodwork throughout and beautiful picture windows that showed vistas of water on three sides. It wasn’t a little boat. The living room had a gas fireplace and a bar that hugged one wall. There was one big stateroom with two smaller bedrooms. The stateroom had a private bath and there was another full bath off the hall.
The kitchen was spacious, with a dining nook and a big butcher block in the center; it opened to a larger dining area that could easily hold a table with eight to ten chairs. And there was the delightful gym downstairs. The best was the light airy room up the spiral staircase, which she would use as her studio. She was in love with the houseboat she called Free. She had made arrangements for all the utilities to be hooked up before she moved in, so she had water and electricity at her disposal.
On her second trip to the car, she was delighted to see that the other houseboats moored beside her slip were named. To the right was Strummer and to the left was Princess Bride. She had already met the inhabitants of PB. Don was fifty-something and his beautiful wife, Gianna, was about twenty years younger and a bundle of energy. She had met them when her boat was being moored.
She wondered about the other boat. It was not as sleek as the newer boats, but there was a charm in its weathered wood sides and intriguing deck with unusual metal sculptures and what looked to be a wet bar built around a fountain.
She unloaded her car and then decided to go buy some groceries. There was an A & P a few blocks away and she got what she needed there. She felt a deep sense of satisfaction as she loaded her cupboards and new refrigerator with the staples she had purchased.
Amelia arrived at noon and took measurements, exclaiming the whole time about how beautiful the boat was and how fun it would be to decorate. Luckily, the master bedroom had a built in bed, as did the other bedrooms, so she didn’t have to wait to sleep comfortably in her new home. The living room had built in leather sofas, but could use some softening touches. Mostly, she wanted Amelia’s help with window treatments and rugs and the myriad of finishing touches that would make the boat her home.
They pored over Amelia’s sample books all afternoon, choosing fabrics for the different rooms on the houseboat.
Finally, Ruby closed the books and escaped into the kitchen to make some soup and grilled cheese sandwiches. She popped open the bottle of champagne she had bought to commemorate her first night in her new home and poured two tall flutes with the bubbly wine.
“To Free,” she said, lifting her glass. “Our late lunch will be ready in a few minutes.”
“To Free,” Amelia echoed. “Long may she reign.”
They ate their sandwiches and soup at the butcher block in the wide galley kitchen, sitting on the plush stools that Ruby had purchased with the boat.
“This is very nice, Rubes,” Amelia said, sipping her champagne. “I think I almost envy you. You have the best of both worlds. The water beneath you and around you and land a few feet away. This was a good choice.”
“Yeah, I think so,” Ruby said. “I already love it.”
Amelia stayed for another half a glass of champagne and then gathered her books and bag and headed toward her car in the driveway.
“I’ll be back soon,” she promised. “I’m going shopping to buy some much needed homey touches. Maybe a few pieces of soft furniture, a nice easy seat, some end tables. What’s my budget?”
“Your budget is whatever you think will work,” Ruby told her little sister. “You’re the designer; I trust you. And you know what I don’t like, so you’re ahead of the game.”
“I wish all my clients were so easy,” Amelia laughed.
“Darling, you of all people should know that I’m not easy,” Ruby said. “I just believe in you and your amazing work. So do me up, sis. I need a home.”
“You’ll get one,” Amelia promised, kissing her sister and giving her a hug. “See you in a week or so.”
After Amelia had left, Ruby tidied up the kitchen, loading their few dishes into the dishwasher. She poured herself another glass of the champagne, putting the half empty bottle in the fridge with a spoon in the neck to keep the fizzy and slipped upstairs to the room that was destined to be her studio.
It was a bare space as yet, but she liked it that way. It was totally open, with windows that showed huge expanses of the darkening sky and the glimmering water all around. There was a small deck outside the door and she slipped outside to sit on the wooden planks, studying the sky.
There were lights on in the Strummer houseboat and she figured her neighbor was home. Angry voices carried over to her and she felt a slight misgiving. A woman shrieked and there was the sound of a loud slap. Then she heard something that made her cringe. A rhythmic slapping noise and low pitched wails; it sounded like someone was getting spanked. It didn’t last long.
“Holy crap,” she muttered, gulping her champagne.
A barrage of angry voices ensued. That continued for a while. Then a screeching that had to be the woman yelling and a lower baritone that resonated even through the walls of the houseboat. A slamming of the door.
“Fuck you,” the woman yelled one last time and Ruby heard the sound of her heels on the dock, then the gravel as she made her way over the driveway. A car’s engine rumbled into life and then, the gravel was being spewn as the tires roared away.
Shit. The owner of Strummer must be a guy and he didn’t sound like too nice a guy. She shrunk against the side of the wall and stared at the looming hulk of the boat beside her. She held her breath when she saw a man emerge from a lower door and climb the ladder to the top deck. All she could see was his long mane of hair caught back in a ponytail. Then he stepped into the moonlight and she almost gasped at the gorgeous man across from her. There was a red handprint on his cheek and his eyes were shuttered with pain. Ruby felt like an eavesdropper as she watched him seem to grapple with an inner demon. His face was filled with a raw anguish and she almost thought he was going to cry. But he didn’t. He lifted his eyes to the sky and she watched as he struggled with some emotion that could have been anger, pain or regret. She didn’t know. But his face was so compelling; she couldn’t keep her eyes from him.
She was somehow reminded of herself. This man looked like she had looked when she’d first discovered Trey’s duplicity. In that second, she decided that he had been deceived. There was just something about his expression that made her believe he was broken a little bit.
He sat down on a deck chair that was almost directly across from where she was sitting.
There was only a distance of maybe fifteen feet between them.
“It sucks, doesn’t it,” she said in a low voice.
His head spun around and she watched as his eyes searched the shadows for her.
“New neighbor?” he asked. “Is that you?”
“Yup.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“I have no idea,” she admitted. “I just seem to recognize something in you and I am having the distinct feeling that you need some cheering up. Forgive me if I’m way off base, but I have been known to have strong intuition. Apart from myself, of course,” she laughed dryly.
“Want to come over?” he asked. “Or no, let me come there. I have funnel cake.”
“Oh, if you have funnel cake, by all means, come over,” Ruby said. “The door is open, c’mon up.”
Holy shit, what was she doing? Asking a perfect stranger to come up on her deck. On the deck of Free.
“Okay.”
“There’s a bottle of champagne in the fridge,” she called. “Bring that up as well and a glass for you.”
“Okay.” And then he was gone.
She sat there sipping the rest of her champagne and waiting for her neighbor to make an appearance. She wondered why she had even invited him; it wasn’t like she was an outgoing type of person. But there was something within him that resonated with her. She felt that he was a kindred spirit. And she couldn’t deny that he was handsome as hell.
A moment later, the door from her studio pushed open and there he was. And close up, he was an even more incredibly good-looking man. He was both broad and tall, but rather narrow about the hips. There wasn’t an ounce of excess flesh on his lean, muscular frame and she felt self-conscious about the few extra pounds she had put on in the last year of her marriage and had not yet taken off, a year later.
His deep blue eyes were warm and friendly when he thrust out his hand.
“Will Stratham,” he said, taking her hand in his own.
“Ruby Davenport, well, actually it’s Mallory, now. Pleased to meet you. I’d say pull up a chair, but since I don’t have any yet, pull up a floorboard.”
“Nice to meet you, Ruby,” he said, sitting down beside her, easily balancing the big paper plate of funnel cake on his lap. “Welcome to the water.”
“Thank you,” she said. “It’s lovely here.”
“You have a nice boat,” he said.
“Thanks, I like it.”
“So, are you Ruby Mallory now because you just got married or un?”
“Un.”
“I see.” He pulled the spoon out of the open champagne bottle and said. “May I? I know this trick; my mother does it.”
“It works,” she said. “Help yourself.”
He filled the glass he had brought up with some of the bubbly and offered the bottle to her. She held out her empty glass and he topped it expertly, without letting any foam spill over.
“I can’t lie,” she said, sipping her wine. “I heard a big fight and didn’t know whether I should pretend I didn’t hear it or just tell you the truth.”
“It was a big fight,” he said soberly. “It was one of those ending type fights. Carla’s gone and she is not coming back.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he said shortly. “She was cheating on me. Big time. And I was too stupid to know it.”
“Do you always end your relationships so physically?” she asked quietly.
“Oh, you heard that, too?” he asked, smiling wryly, rubbing his cheek.
“Yup. Hard not to hear when you’re sitting right across from it.”
“That was probably a mistake,” he admitted. “She was egging me on, wanting me to do that and I ignored her. But, when she taunted me with another three guys, I told her I just didn’t care anymore. Then she slapped me and there’s only one answer to that in my book, so I finally gave her what she wanted.”
“So, she left you?”
“No, I kicked her out.”
Ruby was surprised. She would have thought the mysterious Carla would have hightailed it out of there after the vigorous spanking she had overheard.
“She wanted you to spank her?” she asked incredulously.
“Believe it or not, some women like it,” he said. “I, myself, have always found it to be a great deterrent to bad behavior.”
“Cheating seems beyond bad behavior,” Ruby mused.
“I told you it was probably a mistake,” he said. “I didn’t love Carla. I should have broken it off long ago. There’s no way any spanking in the world would ever reform her.”
“How’d you find out she was cheating?”
“I actually walked in on them at her place,” he said. “Told her adios and walked out. She came running after me and followed me home. Poor asshole’s probably still sitting in her bed wondering where she went. I felt like an idiot. Betrayed. Stupid.”
“My ex cheated on me,” she said. “It’s an awful feeling, I know.”
“How long are you divorced?”
“About six months,” she told him. “But we were separated a year ago.”
“Well, Ruby Mallory, I’m glad you moved into the neighborhood,” he said, clinking his glass against hers. “To neighbors!”
“Neighbors,” she echoed.
“What do you do?” he asked. “I noticed a lot of canvasses on my way up here.”
“I don’t do anything, now,” she admitted. “I don’t really have to. Just say that I extracted my pound of flesh before I let Trey move on to the young and beautiful Tiffany. But I plan to start painting again. I used to paint a lot before I got married. I was pretty good.”
He nodded.
“What do you do?” she asked.
“Like my boat says, I’m a strummer.”
She frowned.
“What’s a strummer?” All she could think of was the people in parades who wore wild costumes and drove little cars. She said as much.
“Those are mummers,” he laughed. “I play guitar,” he explained. “I’m in a band called Crazyfoot.”
I bet you’ve got lots of groupies, she thought, glancing at his awesome profile.
“This week, I’ve been helping out my brother. He owns the Stratham Country Carnival, bought the works when my old man retired last year.”
“He owns a carnival?” she was intrigued. “How do you own a carnival?”
“Well, you buy some animals, some booths, about a million prizes, a few gigantic tents and some trapeze bars, some rides and voila, you got a carnival.”
“Does he have any elephants?”
“Two,” he told her. “Chloe and baby Perry. They rock the place.”
“That must be crazy,” she commented.
“That’s the goddamn truth,” he sighed. “But my brother is crazy. I never liked it much. Except I used to make a couple bucks playing guitar when my dad would let me set up shop.”
“Did you grow up in the carnival?”
“Not so much, we lived here at the shore but I was hawking before I was talking, as my mother always says,” he laughed.
“Where are your parents now?”
“In a beautiful house by the ocean,” he said. “In Cape May.”
“I love Cape May,” she said. “It must be fun to live there.”
“I guess,” he shrugged. “They seem like newlyweds. It’s kind of embarrassing to go visit them. I feel like I’m interrupting or something.”
“Siblings besides the carnival owner?”
“Three,” he said. “Ariana works the carnival with Desmond, and our other brothers, Sam and Jarrod, live normal lives, lawyer and insurance agent in Manhattan and Long Island. You?”
“My sister, Amelia, lives here in New Jersey and our brother, Pryor, lives in New York, in the Adirondacks.”
He was silent for a few seconds and then he snapped his fingers.
“Pryor Mallory,” he said. “He’s your brother? Holy shit, I love his books; he’s incredible.”
“Yeah, I know.” Ruby smiled. Her brother had such an unusual name that whenever she mentioned it, his successful life as a novelist and essayist was recognized.
“What does Amelia do?”
“Interior design,” Ruby said. “She’s going to decorate my “tub” as she calls it.”
“This ain’t no tub,” Will said. “I’d say you got your pound of flesh and then some.”
“I’d have to agree,” she laughed. “Poor, poor Trey.”
“Stupid name.”
“Again, I’d have to agree. Really, he’s Winthrop Miles Davenport III, but I guess Trey is the lesser of two evils.”
“Yikes.” Will shuddered. “Have some funnel cake.” He offered her the plate and she pulled apart some of the greasy, sugary rope of fried dough and tasted it.
“Yumm,” she said. “Tastes like the boardwalk. And childhood.”
“You’re funny,” he mused. “And incredibly hot, I might add. I think Trey was an idiot with a stupid name to boot.”
Ruby laughed. She felt a vein of flirtatiousness surface that hadn’t been active in years. What was it about this stranger that made her feel like a teenager?
They finished the bottle of champagne and ate the rest of the funnel cake.
“I have more champagne,” Ruby said when their glasses were empty. “Feel like drinking and playing gin rummy?”
“What a proposition,” Will said. “Uh, yeah.”
He stood up and held out his hand to help her up and she took it, scrambling to her feet self-consciously, not wanting him to feel the strength of her weight.
“My ex-husband used to call me his little heifer,” she murmured. “But, I only put the weight on when I realized he was fooling around.”
“You’re not a heifer,” Will stated indignantly. “You’re a totally voluptuous woman with nice curves. He must be a real asshole.”
“Pretty much.”
“I like curves,” Will announced, making her blush like a schoolgirl. “Carla was all bones and always on a diet. It pissed me off. After a while, you just feel like you’re making love to a boy.”
“Okay, time to change the subject,” Ruby said. “Bodies and making love. Too much information in too little time.”
“You’re easy to talk to.”
“So are you,” she said. “I feel like we’ve been friends for years.”
“Nope, only an hour and ten minutes,” he said, checking his watch. “But the best hour and ten minutes I’ve had in a long time.”
“Will Stratham, you’re a nice guy.”
“Thank you. And, Ruby Mallory, you’re a beautiful woman and a real sweetheart. I’m glad you moored next to me.”
They sat at the butcher block, drinking champagne and eating the cheese and crackers she had bought that morning. She beat him the first game. Then they switched to rummy 500, deciding to commit to a longer framework.
Eventually, they made one of the Tree Tavern pizzas she had in the freezer and finished the bottle of champagne.
“I think I’m totally drunk,” Ruby told him when she was peering at her cards, trying to figure out what to do.
“I’m pretty buzzed, myself,” he said. “Maybe we should concede. Call for a rematch tomorrow.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
She walked him to the door and was surprised when he hugged her and dropped a kiss on her cheek.
“Maybe you’d like to visit me at the carnival,” he said. “It’s about thirty minutes away, in Little Egg Harbor. I’d love to see you. Think about it.”
“Okay,” she said. “Maybe I will.”
“Otherwise, tomorrow night,” he said. “Re-match. My place this time. I’ll make you my famous fettuccine alfredo.”
“That won’t help me lose weight,” Ruby complained.
“You’re perfect as you are,” he countered. “But I use whole wheat pasta, low fat cheese and cream.”
“Okay.” She waved as he sauntered over the walkway toward his own boat.
Ruby made up the bed in her bedroom, grateful that she had thought to grab her new sheets before she left her old house. She lay in bed thinking of Will and his incredible, crystalline blue eyes and also the sounds of him spanking Carla for one last time. When she was young and foolishly in love with her husband, she used to enjoy it when he turned all masterful on her and swatted her before or during lovemaking. Something about the raw passion and physical emotion made her queasy with desire.
But Will was a lot more physically built than Trey was. The man had massive forearms, something she’d noticed when they were playing cards at the table and he had rolled up the sleeves of his plaid flannel shirt. She had studied his large hands holding his cards under the soft light of the kitchen wall sconces. She wondered what it would be like to be on the receiving end of a spanking from one of those hands.
Ugh.
She rolled over and shut her eyes, determined to go to sleep.
To Be Continued...
