His name is Lindy, Mother

I was bored and worried. That’s what I told Lindy. He didn’t answer my question about Bitsy.

Lindy downed his beer quickly and was off to talk to his crew. I’m alone again and I refreshed my wine. I told him we’d be better off if we arranged for Bitsy to partner with Carson and asked for his thoughts. Lindy didn’t answer my question.

Hopefully this was all percolating in Lindy’s mind as he looked for the crew. I really think Lindy and I could be content contributors, regularly or occasionally, but we should leave the two of them to do the heavy lifting, to battle out their differences, and make the business happen. Fits their personalities, strong and stubborn, but not ours. I’d be happy as an investor, to help them get it going initially, and then after the first issue or two, step back and limit any further involvement.

This is my opinion, my plan. I just need to work on him.

If (or when) Lindy comes over to my thinking about getting out of the partnership, we’d need to have Bitsy in our back pocket. Maybe after book club. It might take some time. Bitsy is aggressive but still might need some convincing. She’s no dummy.

Lindy returns.

“Everything OK?” I ask.

Back home, Lindy and his extended family reside in a small but noble castle in land-locked Lichtenstein and the home port of the Lady Lux is Genoa, Italy, about 250 miles away. The crew lives on the Lady Lux in Genoa where they have easy access to parts and maintenance equipment, but I wasn’t sure we’d have what they needed here.

“Not quite,” he says sitting down. “The crew says that they may need to make a short trip downriver for supplies. I’d be OK if they take a personal day or so off, as well … it’s pretty boring for them here doing housework for us. They haven’t had any time off since we arrived.”

My mind drifted as he spoke. I hadn’t slept well in any number of nights, all this talk of publishing and investments – and the general uncertainty surrounding Carson. Between the activity of the crew picking up for the evening and the boat rocking, I felt my eyes close uncontrollably.

I begin to dream.

I meet Lindy at a restaurant in Italy while the yacht is being serviced. We are both dining alone and Lindy asks if he could move over to my table to share conversation – a regular thing in Europe, but I think it should make its way across the ocean. We enjoy our meals and the conversation and make plans to meet for breakfast. As they say, the rest is history.

We have dinner again the next evening, and I change my travel plans.

Lindy invites me to the castle and I spend four days there in Lichtenstein, after which he accompanies me to Greece and Croatia. We elope and spend some time with his family before heading to Middle Valley for a visit. I stay at the castle while the Lady Lux is in transit, and find life in the castle to be very elegant to say the least.

We arrive in Middle Valley before the Lady Lux, and spend a week or so at the Golden Pillar hotel. Concierge and hot tub come with the room, but it wasn’t quite as fancy as the castle in Lichtenstein.

It was then that I heard the sound of Lindy rapping on the side of the boat.

Still in bed, I am awake and enjoy thinking about how extremely happy I am with this man, so happy to have found him. Sometimes I think Bitsy may think otherwise – she’s oddly fond of saying his full name: “Prince Lindholm Ludwig Vincent Fryer, second cousin to the Royal family of Luxembourg.”

“His name is Lindy, Mother,” I tell her regularly. “Lindy,… just Lindy.”

My Lindy.

My mind wanders back to the dream. Suddenly, I recall there being a shadowy figure muttering, mumbling the words “body parts … body parts … you’ve got the smarts … body parts …. body parts … you’ve got the smarts …”

Now where the hell did that come from?