Chapter 3
Rafe brought me the club’s old race books before midnight.
Warren kept them in his office.
Not secret.
Just boring enough nobody looked closely.
Twelve years of children’s model races.
Names.
Finishing order.
Parents.
And beside certain races, tiny marks.
N.
E.
S.
W.
North.
East.
South.
West.
Pier sections.
Storage rooms.
Hosting privileges.
Private dining weeks.
Small things.
Until they accumulated.
The Hayes family had “won” seventeen of twenty-two marked races.
That was not luck.
I called Warren into the club office.
Lenore came too.
Patrick stayed with his nanny.
Simon stayed with me because he refused to leave the broken boat.
I allowed it.
Warren looked at the book.
“So?”
“Seventeen.”
“Our kids are competitive.”
I looked at him.
“Your children, cousins, and clients’ children.”
He said nothing.
Rafe placed photographs on the desk.
Race equipment inspected after previous complaints.
Weighted keels.
Loose rudders.
Damaged sails.
Nothing dangerous to children.
Only enough to alter toy performance.
Cheating dressed as tradition.
Then Simon asked:
“Dad?”
“Yes?”
“Did Patrick cheat?”
Important.
I looked at my son.
“Patrick raced the boat he was given.”
“Did he know?”
“Some of it.”
Simon frowned.
That was harder than villain and hero.
Good.
Children need truth more than simple teams.
Lenore interrupted.
“He’s five. Why are you explaining this?”
I looked at her.
“Because you made him part of it.”
Silence.
Then Rafe found one race that mattered.
Nine years earlier.
FOUNDERS’ JUNIOR CUP.
Winner: Elise Hayes.
Marked: N.
North Pier.
The same pier.
But the transfer never happened.
Why?
My father died three days later.
The wager disappeared with him.
Warren had spent nine years believing Langley owed Hayes North Pier.
Tonight was not a new scheme.
May you like
It was a rematch arranged without telling me.
And Lenore had agreed to marry me while carrying her family’s old grievance directly into my son’s birthday-season race.
