She stole a glance at him and smiled. This sure beat an office building in Seattle with rain sluicing over the windows.
While Maileah worked on the auction description, Sailor sent texts to friends.
“Cool, I just heard back from Ari,” Sailor said. “He’s donating one of his hydrofoil boards for the auction.”
Maileah looked up, excited. Besides Sailor’s, this was the first commitment they’d received. “How many pieces is it in?”
Sailor laughed. “That one is barely used. He also has a jagged piece of a board broken on Pipeline. That wave is gnarly. He said he’ll sign those if buyers want.”
“I’m sure they will.” She kissed his cheek. “Thank you.”
Sailor beamed at the gesture. “That’s only the first. I have more to call.”
“You have no idea how much this means to me.”
“I have a pretty good idea,” he said, brushing a strand of hair from her forehead. “Where will you store all these items until the event?”
“Good point. We can’t exactly pile donations in our living rooms.” Maileah chuckled, imagining her quaint cottage overrun with surfboards and memorabilia. “But I think I have a solution.”
She picked up her phone and called the Majestic. “This is Maileah Raines calling for Whitley.” While she waited, she added, “Plenty of room there.”
Whitley came on the line. After a brief conversation, she smiled and thanked him.
“Whitley agreed to store everything at the Majestic. Your friends can ship their items there ahead of time, addressed to him.”
“Brilliant.” Sailor grinned, his eyes meeting hers. “You’re unstoppable. I like that about you.”
Maileah’s heart fluttered at the praise and how his gaze lingered on her.
They continued working together, and the hours flew by. The response was better than Maileah expected, and she was growing more excited about the event.
Later that afternoon, the sound of tires on gravel caught her attention.
She spotted Adrian pulling beside her car. “Your dad is here.” He had called earlier to ask if he could stop by.
Adrian stepped out of the car, guitar case in hand, his weathered face creased in a warm smile. “Hope I’m not interrupting,” he called out, striding toward them.
“Not at all,” Maileah said as they greeted each other. “How is the song going?”
“I finished it last night.” Adrian opened his guitar case. “I’m playing at Jo’s tonight, but I wanted you to hear it. This one really flowed.”
As Adrian removed his guitar from its case, Sailor scooted his chair closer to Maileah’s. He rested his arm over the back of her chair, his fingers lightly touching her shoulder.
A shiver of electricity coursed through her, and she leaned closer to him, enjoying the warmth between them.
Adrian settled into a chair, positioning the guitar on his lap. His fingers caressed the strings, coaxing a melody that captured the essence of the island. When he began to sing his soulful island ballad, Maileah was instantly transported.
Sailor’s attention was riveted on his father. The pride in his eyes touched her heart.
Adrian’s lyrics drew images of brave women and men, their spirits meshing with the power of the sea. He sang of voyagers and adventurers, of broken bones but unbroken spirits. His words conveyed a message of resilience, of rising to meet challenges and returning after injury, and of love and strength found in community.
While his words reflected the essence of Crown Island, Maileah thought it could have been anywhere—and for anyone who lived at one with nature.
As the song built to its crescendo, tears welled in her eyes. She noticed Sailor swipe a hand across his cheek, also overcome by the raw emotion in his father’s performance.
“And we will rise again, forever rising, my friend,” Adrian sang, softly ending the ballad.
As the final note lingered in the air, Maileah was still entranced. Sailor was so close she could feel the breath he expelled in awe.
