Page 71 of Hidden Depths
"You haven't trained once since we left San Francisco."
"I've thought about it."
I nodded.
"That counts."
Scott grinned.
"I knew you'd understand."
The bridge door opened.
Storm stepped outside with Grandpa's old binoculars hanging around her neck.
"Morning."
"Morning, Captain."
Scott lifted one cinnamon roll.
"Breakfast?"
Storm smiled.
"I'm driving the yacht."
"So?"
"So I probably shouldn't have frosting on the wheel."
Scott looked disappointed.
"I didn't think of that."
"I know."
Storm walked to the bridge wing and slowly scanned the horizon.
The movement was automatic.
Left.
Center.
Right.
She lowered the binoculars.
Nothing.
Then she raised them again.
The fishing trawler.
Still there.
Still distant.
