“Holy shit!” Harm breathed as he pulled the SUV to a stop and got his first look at “The Brass Monkey,” rocking gently at the end of the longest dock at Fisher’s Marina.

Elgin grinned. “That’s the general reaction when people first see ‘The Monkey,’” she told him. “I know it was mine. Come on.”

“She must be…what? Fifty…sixty feet?”

“Sixty-five.”

Sleek, winter-white fiberglass with a broad fore deck, flying bridge and sparkling blue awning covering the after deck. As they came along side, Harm noticed the little brass monkey sitting just over the railing, grinning a warm welcome.

“Elgin, darling,” Marty beamed, grabbing her hand and helping her aboard, hugging her as her feet landed on the polished teak-look deck. “I’m delighted you could make it. Absolutely delighted.”

He extended a polite but less than enthusiastic hand in Harm’s direction.

“And of course you too. Harm, isn’t it?”

“Camp, please.”

“Yes. Well, sit down, get comfy and we’ll get underway.” He shooed them toward the plump, bright blue cushions ringing the deep well of the after deck.

“Paul?” he called into an intercom.

“Yes sir?” came a voice from the box.

“We’re all set. Cast off and get underway whenever you’re ready.” Flipping the “off” switch, he came over and made himself comfortable next to Elgin.

“So, what sort of mischief have you two been getting into?”

Harm bristled silently at the nerve of his host. And he was sitting entirely too close to Elgin.

“Nothing but soaking up the peace and quiet,” she replied, patting him gently on the knee.

“Knowing what a fidget box you are,” he sniffed, “of course I don’t believe that for an instant. But whatever it is, it definitely agrees with you. You’re glowing. Absolutely radiant.”

“It’s the fresh air and being around my friends.”

“I don’t believe that for an instant either, but if you’re going to be mysterious, I shall just have to badger you unmercifully until you break.”

The engines roared to life, the boat shuddering like a living thing as it moved slowly away from the dock.

“She’s a beauty,” Harm remarked, anxious to steer the conversation in another direction.

A young Hispanic man in white steward’s jacket and Bermuda shorts appeared, coming to a respectful stop beside Marty.

“I’m having Mimosa,” he told them, “unless you’d prefer something else.”

“No, that’s fine.”

“Same here.”

Marty nodded once and the young man disappeared. A moment later, he reappeared with a silver tray bearing three tall, slender glasses of orange juice, a slice of fresh orange on the rim.

“Oh, that’s good,” Elgin sighed. “I couldn’t tell you how long it’s been since I had Mimosa. Especially with fresh squeezed orange juice and just the right amount of champagne.”

“That’s because you’ve chosen that urban rat race,” he scolded lightly. “Now that you’re rich and famous and could live anywhere you want, you should come home. Back to simple things like fresh orange juice and the people who love you.”

“I like the urban rat race,” she laughed. “I always said that I enjoy the lake in the summer but that at heart, I’m a city girl. John Denver not withstanding, I’ve always thought living in the country was vastly overrated, especially in the dead of winter with six feet of snow on the ground and no propane because the truck couldn’t get through. Nope. Give me concrete and electric lights any day in the week.”

“And what about you Mr. Harm?” Marty asked suddenly, focusing those pale eyes on him as he sipped his drink.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Harm stalled as he tried to recover. “Never spent much time in the country. I like it well enough but I guess I’m just a city boy.”

“Well, you never know what you might like until you try it.”

The face remained impassive but those eyes continued to watch him…study him almost. A cold breath prickled the hairs on the back of his neck.

“Breakfast is served,” announced the young man, holding open the salon door.

“Ah, good.” Marty rose and waited for Elgin and Harm.

“A little light buffet,” he told them, taking Elgin’s arm. “Nothing elaborate. Just had the cook throw together whatever he had. Hope you don’t mind potluck.”

Harm felt as if he’d stepped into a fine restaurant. Rich, dark wood blended perfectly with glove soft cream suede and brass accents. Instead of portholes, large windows on each side gave a view of the passing scenery.

A buffet table ran along one wall for perhaps ten feet, an older man in a tall chef’s cap at one end and a middle aged gentleman in the same kind of outfit as the young Hispanic, stood at the other end.

Marty gave Elgin and Harm a mock bow and stood aside for them. The large table, covered with thick white tablecloths, fairly groaned under the weight of all the food. Lox, bagels, cream cheese and even caviar. Fresh strawberries, blueberries, raspberries, melon and pineapple. Pastries, muffins, biscuits, English muffins. Covered trays of bacon, sausage and ham. Crisp hash browns.

“Joseph makes pancakes, omelets and a Belgian Waffle that is absolutely decadent.”

“Ohhhhh,” she breathed, “that sounds good.”

The chef smiled. “Thank you, Miss. Would you care for fruit on it?”

“Oh yes, Elgin,” Marty urged. “Have the apples. Trust me, you will absolutely weep with ecstasy.”

“All right. Apples please.”

“And you sir?”

“A couple of eggs, over easy please.”

“Ah, a simple man of simple tastes. I like that.” Harm thought he detected just the faintest note of sarcasm in the other man’s voice.

“I’ll have the usual, Joseph.”

“Well, we can sit down now. Ernesto will bring everything to the table.”

“So, how is it that you and Elgin know each other?” Harm asked.

“You mean Elgin hasn’t told you about us?”

Harm’s fork stopped halfway to his mouth and he stared at Elgin.

“Oh, Marty, stop that,” she giggled, tapping his arm lightly and turning a little crimson. “Camp isn’t interested in such ancient history.”

“No,” Harm told her, “I’d be very interested.”

“Well, there really isn’t very much to it.”

“Nonsense,” Marty objected. “There’s a great deal to it and since we’ve an hour to kill between here and West Shore, I think you should absolutely tell Camp all about us.”

“I agree.”

“All right. Marty’s great-great-grandfather came here during the gold rush hoping to make his fortune. He didn’t find any gold but he opened the first general store on this side of the lake. Had to have everything shipped up here by mule train and later on ‘The Belle.’ Eventually, he built a little cabin on the bluff just overlooking the store and got married.”

“Had twelve children,” Marty interjected. “How they managed that in a single room log cabin escapes me absolutely, but they did. My grandfather, being the eldest, naturally inherited the mercantile.”

“That’s kind of how it went,” Elgin continued. “Every generation improving their lives. Built better houses and expanded the mercantile. Every parent wanted better for their children.

“Rebecca, Marty’s mother, made up her mind that he should be the first college graduate in the family.”

“She read to me as long as I can remember. Played the phonograph. Bought one of the first televisions in the area. Taught me to read and write and do numbers before I went to school.”

“She was also the first one to realize that Marty wasn’t just bright, but gifted. He finished high school at ten. At twelve, he had a full scholarship to Winston Technical University but his family couldn’t close the mercantile and go with him.”

“At that time, Elgin’s aunt suggested to my mother that I go and live with Elgin and her mother. They lived less than six blocks from the campus, they had a spare bedroom and with Elgin’s father departed, her mother needed the money a boarder could provide. I knew Elgin slightly because she used to come up here summers with her aunt and uncle.