Chapter 18

"Oh my, that's a beautiful boat. How did it end up in receivership ... and here. This isn't the biggest Marina on Lake Michigan."

"Chicago to Mackinac race."

"So?" Andrea was curious, "Lots of boats run the race."

She was standing back away from the biggest sailboat she'd ever seen up close and personal. Eighty-seven feet with a thirty foot beam and two decks, dual Detroit's, water maker, 250 gallon fresh water, Radar, (near and far) Side looking Sonar, one hundred foot mast, four suits of sails plus storm canvas, luxury accommodations for ten ... and rigged single handed. The boat was on the hard at the old sawmill marina ... it was the biggest boat they'd ever hauled.

It was the biggest boat in this years race and well on it's way to winning the thing when the owner suffered a massive heart attack and went over the side ... or so everybody said.

Built 'just across the way, ' in Manitowoc, Wisconsin, she was 87 feet of welded aluminum and beautiful; off white with blue trim and a mix of exotic teaks and hardwoods ... and the most recent thing off the ways at the old Henry Glass boatyard.

She was 'unusual' in several ways; perpendicular stem and tapered stern with no tumblehome. Not your normal mass produced boat. Because she was so wide she could be called fat but she was sleek and fast. She was also Henry Glass' last gasp. While she was motoring out of the harbor, the Marshals were coming in the gate and closing down the plant.

The owner had paid cash ... mostly. It was a simple matter of one hundred seventy thousand dollars due at the bank in ninety days and that was forty-five days overdue.

The Marina was charging the bank the normal rate for storage ... but that was forty three fifty a month and it was eating into their loan ... that was $4,350 a month ... just so you'd know. The marina could store nine five hundred a month boats in the space the monstrosity took up ... so the yard was losing money storing it.

"Got a number I can call?"

"They authorized me to handle negotiations."

"Bottom dollar?"

"Huh?"

"How badly do you want this out of here?"

"Pretty bad ... Chicago school starts in two weeks, boating season is over in less than a month ... the Almanac is predicting a very bad November and there's all those boats," he gave a sweep of his hand at half a million small craft scattered all over Pentwater Lake, "That need to be hauled, prepped and stored. I need this out of here."

Andrea got an evil gleam and said, "I wonder what scrap aluminum is bringing in?"

"Oh my god ... you're kidding ... you're not." He garbled for a minute. "Let me call."

"Wait ... what's the least you'll take ... in cash ... to pay off the boat, survey it, put it in the water, rig it, find me an instructor, and get this white elephant out of your hair. Remember ... cash. Hundreds." She patted her enormous purse. "Hey ... I want to see the inside."

The marina owner ran ... if that's what you can call a three hundred pound waddle ... ran to the office. Pretty quick, a white headed man came out with a ladder.

"He told me to humor you ... so rather than let you see the boat, I'm going to feed you."

He grabbed her by the hand, guided her over to a 1928 Springfield Rolls Royce and helped her in.

"Granddad's car ... he left it to me." He looked..."No! Not for sale."

"I never said a word..."

"You didn't need to ... I've seen that look ... yeah that one ... at least three times a day all summer long."

"Where are we going?"

"The Antler."

"Are Frank and Ernie still running the place?"

"Are you from Pentwater? You look vaguely familiar."

"Nope ... but I've fished..."

"You! ... you're the one that caught the sturgeon ... the one that got away ... wait until you see The Antler wall ... and we're here. Come on."

The two behind the counter bore a reasonable resemblance to Frank and Ernie. "Two Wendy burgers, Frank."

"With fries," said Andrea, "And white vinegar, Frank!"

She looked around ... same wide pine floor ... same old walnut tables ... same checkered oilcloth table coverings ... it even looked like the same old men playing Euchre.

"So, Ernie ... when did your dad die..."

"I'm not dead," hollered Ernie Senior from the Euchre table.

"Me neither," shouted Frank. "Ernie ... you're gonna be dead if you keep reneging."

The two old men playing with them laughed. Everybody in the bar laughed.

" ... Ernie let me see the third picture from the left two rows down."

He hugged it to his chest and peered at it.