quickly to the water's surface. Taking a deep breath of air, he felt the cold breeze on his face and a strong sense of relief.
He took in his bearings. On the shore, he could see the profile of a large car and a well dressed man walking towards the water. He gave his legs a quick and powerful kick. His body glided through the water as the waves passed over his rippled shoulders like stones in a river. In a few minutes, he reached the shoreline and waded through the water onto the beach. He turned and could see the outline of the catamaran still bobbing on surface.
"Towel sir?"
"Yes James, thank you," Mackenzie said to the man. He handed James the small bag, and blotted his face with the towel. His shirt clung tightly to his body as he wrapped the towel to his chest. Taking the bag back from James, Mackenzie walked to the car. James opened the door, and Mackenzie lowered himself into the back seat. A tackle twill Yale sweatshirt and khaki shorts sat tightly folded on the back seat as he pulled off his wet clothes.
He closed his eyes and leaned his head back. It had been unsettlingly strange being back at the old camp again. The small family cottage was only accessible by water, and had been one of his father's favorite retreats. The roof of the main cottage had caved in many years before, but the small lean-to where he slept as a boy had remained intact. He was able to find his name carved into the soft pine of the walls, remembering the summers sleeping out under the stars. As a boy and into his teens, it had been his favorite place in the world. Remembering why he had come, he had moved to the back of the lean-to and felt the floor against the back wall. After only a few moments, he found the loose floorboard and a treasure he had left there many years before.
"Feeling better sir?" James asked as Mackenzie opened his eyes after dressing himself in the dry clothes.
Pushing two fingers inside, he slowly separated the drawstring tie holding the top of the bag together. Reaching his hand in slowly, he pulled out a long silver key. Flipping it over, he could see an inscription carved in the side.
Veritas Lux Me a .
Fondling it between his fingers, he smiled. He hadn't thought of the key for years until he received a curious letter two weeks earlier telling him it was a vitally important piece of his future. The letter also told him to make sure he kept his calendar open for the Steele and Wickes client party. Again, the letter made reference to it being important to his future. It was signed "A Friend."
Mackenzie looked at James and smiled.
"I am now," he said.
8
The day of the party, Lizzie was flying. She hadn't thought about Sam all week, and the harbor was buzzing with caterers in their white coats, deckhands in their crisp navy polos, and vans stuffed with everything from flowers to crystal.
Collapsing on a crate, Lizzie took off her shoe and massaged the ball of her foot. Nicole was standing on the bow of the ship, barking out orders to the waitstaff about napkin folding. Lizzie thought it would be funny if any of the staff saw Nicole's couch.
Nicole was in her element. Nobody fucked with her. In one weeks time, she had changed caterers, planned a new menu, coordinated the venue, and doubled down on every part of the party. Lizzie was starting to feel that Nicole had really earned the new Louie hanging from her arm.
"Bitch, no sitting down on the job," she heard Nicole shout from the deck of the boat. Lizzie laughed as she threw her hands up in the air and smiled.
"Get up here, I need your help," Nicole shouted.
Lizzie placed her shoe back onto her foot and walked up the long "runway", as Nicole called it, to the deck of the two story ship.
"These fuckers know nothing about napkins," Nicole scoffed once Lizzie was in earshot. "Ok, we start in exactly... four hours," Nicole said looking at the clock on her phone. "I need to get ready, and so
He took in his bearings. On the shore, he could see the profile of a large car and a well dressed man walking towards the water. He gave his legs a quick and powerful kick. His body glided through the water as the waves passed over his rippled shoulders like stones in a river. In a few minutes, he reached the shoreline and waded through the water onto the beach. He turned and could see the outline of the catamaran still bobbing on surface.
"Towel sir?"
"Yes James, thank you," Mackenzie said to the man. He handed James the small bag, and blotted his face with the towel. His shirt clung tightly to his body as he wrapped the towel to his chest. Taking the bag back from James, Mackenzie walked to the car. James opened the door, and Mackenzie lowered himself into the back seat. A tackle twill Yale sweatshirt and khaki shorts sat tightly folded on the back seat as he pulled off his wet clothes.
He closed his eyes and leaned his head back. It had been unsettlingly strange being back at the old camp again. The small family cottage was only accessible by water, and had been one of his father's favorite retreats. The roof of the main cottage had caved in many years before, but the small lean-to where he slept as a boy had remained intact. He was able to find his name carved into the soft pine of the walls, remembering the summers sleeping out under the stars. As a boy and into his teens, it had been his favorite place in the world. Remembering why he had come, he had moved to the back of the lean-to and felt the floor against the back wall. After only a few moments, he found the loose floorboard and a treasure he had left there many years before.
"Feeling better sir?" James asked as Mackenzie opened his eyes after dressing himself in the dry clothes.
Pushing two fingers inside, he slowly separated the drawstring tie holding the top of the bag together. Reaching his hand in slowly, he pulled out a long silver key. Flipping it over, he could see an inscription carved in the side.
Veritas Lux Me a .
Fondling it between his fingers, he smiled. He hadn't thought of the key for years until he received a curious letter two weeks earlier telling him it was a vitally important piece of his future. The letter also told him to make sure he kept his calendar open for the Steele and Wickes client party. Again, the letter made reference to it being important to his future. It was signed "A Friend."
Mackenzie looked at James and smiled.
"I am now," he said.
8
The day of the party, Lizzie was flying. She hadn't thought about Sam all week, and the harbor was buzzing with caterers in their white coats, deckhands in their crisp navy polos, and vans stuffed with everything from flowers to crystal.
Collapsing on a crate, Lizzie took off her shoe and massaged the ball of her foot. Nicole was standing on the bow of the ship, barking out orders to the waitstaff about napkin folding. Lizzie thought it would be funny if any of the staff saw Nicole's couch.
Nicole was in her element. Nobody fucked with her. In one weeks time, she had changed caterers, planned a new menu, coordinated the venue, and doubled down on every part of the party. Lizzie was starting to feel that Nicole had really earned the new Louie hanging from her arm.
"Bitch, no sitting down on the job," she heard Nicole shout from the deck of the boat. Lizzie laughed as she threw her hands up in the air and smiled.
"Get up here, I need your help," Nicole shouted.
Lizzie placed her shoe back onto her foot and walked up the long "runway", as Nicole called it, to the deck of the two story ship.
"These fuckers know nothing about napkins," Nicole scoffed once Lizzie was in earshot. "Ok, we start in exactly... four hours," Nicole said looking at the clock on her phone. "I need to get ready, and so
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