Just on Porpoise (Hetta Coffey series Book 12) by Jinx Schwartz

Author:Jinx Schwartz [Schwartz, Jinx]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-07-17T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-two

Jan and I sat in a corner of our hotel room balcony, sheltering from the wind. It wasn’t cold, just blowing.

Had I not been fretting over my boat navigating up the channel and into the slip, while battling the combination of a brisk breeze and opposing swift outgoing tide, it would have been downright enjoyable.

We occasionally scanned the horizon for Raymond Johnson, even though we knew they were still a ways out.

“You gonna be happy to have your home back?” Jan asked.

“Happier when she’s safely tied up, but hell yes. You know, once Fabio and crew take off, you’re welcome to move aboard. Becky and Gypsy can stay at the hotel. No one’ll need to be in the RV.”

“Yah, maybe. Let’s wait and see how it works out. I have a feeling we’ll all be headed for San Felipe soon. It’s definitely looking like we’re gonna need a mothership.”

I couldn’t disagree. “The kayakers having to leave from San Felipe every morning, paddle out twenty miles, and return the same afternoon, isn’t getting the job done.”

“I was thinking about that. If we’re going to have sleepovers aboard, we sure as hell can’t have fifty bodies on your boat. How many, do you think?”

“The formula is length times width divided by fifteen.”

Jan looked at me in surprise. “How do you know that?”

“Jan, I are an engineer.”

“Who can’t do simple math worth a crap. I always have to figure out the tip.”

“I have people for that,” I said loftily.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Besides, I looked it up on the internet.”

“Well, just in case you didn’t manage to multiply and divide this complex equation, it comes to about thirty-four and a half. What’s the fifteen for?”

“One hundred and fifty pounds per person. It’s just a rough guideline.”

“Ha! You’ll be the only person in that weight range.”

“Am not!”

“Hetta, when did you last step upon a scale?”

“Oh, hush. Anyhow, I figure Po Thang is the half.”

“Most kayakers are pretty danged lean, but they’ll have gear and we’ll be carrying sleeping bags galore.”

“And those capacity figures are for fair weather. Overloaded boats in a blow do not fare well.”

“So, let’s make it four of us, Po Thang, and say, thirty kayakers?”

“Twenty nine. And one-hundred and fifty pounds of wine.”

We fist bumped. “I like the cut of your jib, Capt’n Coffey.”

I stood and pointed south, “Sail Ho!”

“Raymond Johnson ain’t got no stinking sail,” Jan said, grabbing the binoculars, “but thar be she. Heave ho, let’s get down to the dock.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

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