Strange Bedfellow Read Online Free Page B

down the long stretch of dock.  
    Masts, long, short and medium, stood in broken lines along the pier, sails furled, the hulls motionless in the quiet water. Her steps were directed by memory along the boards. Although she had rarely ever joined Blake after her first two disastrous attempts at sailing, Dina had often come to the marina to wait for his return. But Blake wouldn't be coming back anymore.  
    The bold letters of the name Starfish stood out clearly against the white hull. Dina paused, feeling the tightness in her throat. Then, scolding herself, she stepped aboard. The wooden deck was dull, no longer gleaming and polished as Blake had kept it.  
    It didn't do any good to tell herself she shouldn't have waited so long to do something about the boat. There had been so many other decisions to make and demands on her time. Plus there had been so many legal entanglements surrounding Blake's disappearance. Those had become knots at the notification of his death. Since his estate wasn't settled, the boat still couldn't be sold until the court decreed the dispensation of his property.  
    The Starfish had been dry-docked since his disappearance, everything aboard exactly the way he had left it after his last sail. Dina unlocked the cabin to go below. The time had come to pack away all his things. Jake Stone, the family attorney, had decided the boat should be leased, even if it couldn't be sold yet, to eliminate the maintenance costs and to keep it from deteriorating through lack of use.  
    It had occurred to Dina that she could have arranged for someone else to clear away his things and clean up the boat. That was what she planned to do when the attorney had phoned the first of the week to tell her he had received the court's permission to lease the boat. But she was here now and the task lay ahead of her.  
    Opening drawers and doors, she realized there was a great deal more aboard than she had supposed. The storehouse of canned goods in the cupboards would have brought a smile of delight to any gourmet, but Blake had always been very particular about his food and the way it was prepared. Sighing, Dina wondered how many of the cans were still good. What a waste it would be if she had to throw them all out.  
    Picking up a can, she quickly set it down. The first order was to get a general idea of what had to be done. She continued her methodical examination of the cabin's contents. The clean, if now musty, clothes brought a smile to her lips. It was funny how a person's memory of little things could dim over such a short time as a few years.  
    A glance at his clothes brought it all back. Blake had been very meticulous about his clothes, being always clean and well dressed. Even the several changes of denim Levi's kept aboard the boat were creased and pressed. A thin coating of dust couldn't hide the snow-white of his sneakers.  
    Both seemed something of an extreme, yet Dina couldn't remember a time when she had seem him dressed in a manner that could be described as carelessly casual. It made him sound a bit pompous, but the trait hadn't been at all abrasive.  
    Blake had been used to good things all his life—a beautiful home, excellent food, vintage wines and specially tailored clothes. Spoiled? With a trace of arrogance? Perhaps, Dina conceded. He had been something of a playboy when she had met him, with devastating charm when he wanted to turn it on. Brilliantly intelligent and almost dreadfully organized, he had been exciting and difficult to live with.  
    Not at all like Chet, she concluded again. But what was the point in comparing? What could be gained by holding up Blake's smooth sophistication to Chet's easygoing nature? With a shrug of confusion, she turned away from the clothes, shutting her mind to the unanswerable questions.  
    For the better part of the day she worked aboard the boat, first packing and carrying Blake's belongings to the Porsche, where she stuffed them in every conceivable