Chapter 1

I do hate to do this. My crew is ready ... I’ve trained them as best I could. I’d have to say they’re as good as I was when I was working for Mike in Auckland. I’ve grown a lot since North Island. I am particularly proud of my doors.

I knocked on the boss’s door. “Got a minute?”

He nodded. “Come in, Mel.”

The whole crew calls me Mel ... Surprise was just too much.

“Have a seat. I just have to look at this build sheet. Just a mo.” I sat.

“Want a look. The customer specified your cabinets.”

I shook my head. Jeez ... make me feel bad already.

“No?”

I slid the envelope with my notice onto his desk.

He picked it up and looked at it. “I’m not going to like this, am I?”

“I found my siblings. I believe I mentioned the possibility when I hired on,” I said. “I’ll work out my notice. Then I’ll be gone.”

“How’s your crew? Can they handle it?”

“There isn’t anything left I can teach them. They’re as good as I was 5 years ago.”

“We’ll miss you. Two weeks?”

I nodded, “Now, I want to talk to you about rebuilding my boat.”

He was all business.

“You have a boat? You know we are principally catamarans?”

“You know that cat, Basilisk?”

“Across the Coomera? Surely that’s not your boat ... some rich kid owns it.”

I tootled my fingers. “Rich kid here,” I said.

“Flintkote? You’re not...”

“Flintkote Industries. The three of us.”

The phone rang ... several times. It didn’t stop.

“For god’s sake, answer it,” I said.

He picked up. He spun his chair away and talked. I didn’t pay attention ... wasn’t any of my business.

“That was Ruthie,” he said.

I knew Ruthie ... she was his Personal Assistant/secretary. Good at her job and great fun after work and weekends. We’ve been known to carry her home a time or two.

“You are one of our investors?”

“Yes, sir. 23 percent.”

“Ruthie said she’d had a call from a Cynthia Flintkote. Ruthie said you’re supposed to call. Something about Hong Kong.”

“I’m going to meet them there. I’ll fly. JW is going to have my other boat hauled and checked over.”

“You have two boats?”

“A 65 and a hundred.”

“OoooKay,” he said. “What do you want done to your boat?”

“If it’s broke ... fix it. If it leaks ... stop it. If a hatch or port light is scratched ... replace it. New heaters, new counters, new beds. If you even think it might break, replace it. I’ll bring her over my last day at work.”

I stood up, “Now I have to tell my team. They’re not going to like it.”

“Probably not ... I sure don’t. I won’t say you’re irreplaceable ... but it’s going to take the five of them to do it. Go on to work ... I’ll write something up. Ruthie can make a contract out of it.” He held out his hand, I shook it, walked out his door, said, “Hi,” to Ruthie.

“Good bye, Miss Flintkote.”