. they got it done, and I motored us away from captivity. Out the channel and into the mole. Sail was raised ... by hand ... with much confusion and groaning and we sailed between the lights and headed back north.“Junior?”“Yes?”“You’ll make a hand ... the rest of you? Probably not. And you seven know you’re stuck until we go back to Pentwater. That damn helicopter has heat identification and you need to stick with us or lose Mary’s Mom.”“What?”“This is not the last time they’ll check.”“But ... the lieutenant said he was satisfied,” said Six.“Albert?”Burt stuck his head out of the salon doors, “Yes?”“What’s on the radar?”“We’re being followed.”“Shit,” said Six.“I’d be willing to bet good money that they called Sleeping Bear Guard station and told them to keep an eye on “The Big Catamaran.” Any takers?” I asked.“Double Shit!” said Mary. She was embarrassed about using the word ... but somehow ... it fit ... like a familiar face in a crowd. A friendly phrase that she’d never used ... in. It was impossible, however, for her to be unaware of how her family’s money smoothed the road in so many ways. From the third generation of her family to attend St. Joshua’s Academy, she had never had any doubt about attending the prestigious and pricey private school. Despite its name, the school was not Catholic. It was as WASP-y and old-money as they came. I had needed a generous scholarship to attend. Saint Joshua’s, in addition its snootiness, was an excellent school. The education I had been given, aided by St. J’s name recognition, had opened doors for me already. I had gotten into my first-choice college, with a significant academic scholarship. Not only that, I found myself better prepared for college academics than most of my classmates. I owed St. J’s a lot, and I had already decided that when I had some money, I would in fact become a donor. Clara and I were now sophomores in college and back for Homecoming. An on-again, off-again couple while in high-school, we had.
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