“Like a lady breaking down in broad daylight,” Jenna said. “For no reason whatsoever.”
“Oh, I’m fairly sure you had your reasons,” Amos said.
“Not to mention how I fled the scene of the crime.”
“No crime, no foul,” Amos replied, smiling.
And just like that, they were comfortable with each other. They ordered, sipped their coffees, watched the summer street scene, then Jenna asked, “Are you sure you can repair that boat?”
“Been asking him the same thing,” Amos said. “And you didn’t see inside.”
“Bad?”
“Zia is pretty certain they finished off by letting off a couple of compression grenades,” Amos replied.
She recalled the gaping holes where windows had once rimmed the cabin. Felt a momentary queasiness. Pressed a fist into her gut. “Back to my question.”
“Certain, no. But I think yes,” Noah said. “Maybe. With time. I can get the lady back to where she should be.”
“Unpack that a little for us,” Amos said.
Noah directed his response to Jenna. “My job until last week was designing and building film sets. Big operations will use outside contractors, especially when timing is an issue. A lot of my jobs were all about building things so they could get blown up. Over and over and over.”
“I don’t follow,” Amos said.
“Multiple takes,” Noah replied. “They shoot a scene. Tear my work apart in the process. Then I’m called to build it back. And do it fast.”
Noah dipped the spoon’s handle into his mug, began sketching designs on the table. “I’ve got to figure out ways of making things look totally wrecked, then put them back together. Fast as possible, like I said. A hundred-million-dollar production, say, will need around four months to shoot. Call it a million dollars per day. Time is a critical issue. So me and my crew, we build so we can wreck and then rebuild in a matter of hours. You get a feel for what justlookslike utter ruin but can be quickly reconstructed.”
Their meal arrived, and they paused until the plates were emptied and set aside. Then Amos said, “You were talking about a set. This is a yacht. Which means it has to float. No leaks allowed.”
“Fiberglass is amazing stuff. If you know what you’re doing, you can repair holes a lot bigger than what they did to that boat. I intend to reinforce every hull repair with two layers of carbon fiber. Done right, the repairs will form a seamless whole. You’ll never know the hull was ever breached.” Noah settled back, stared out the window, but Jenna was fairly certain all he saw was the craft. “I’ve done some checking. Below the waterline, the builders used something called vinyl ester resin.”
“That’s a good thing?” Amos asked.
“Best there is. Isophthalic resins have to be applied by hand. Which makes it too expensive for anything but the finest vessels. But once it bonds with fiberglass and carbon fiber, the stuff is hard as titanium steel.”
“You hope,” Amos said. “And if you get it right.”
“Nobody’s pushing you to do a single solitary thing more than what you’ve done so far,” Noah pointed out.
Jenna asked, “How long will it take?”
“I should know whether Amos is right and I’ve made a terrible mistake in a couple of weeks. Maybe less.”
“Don’t you go putting words in my mouth,” Amos retorted. “That’s not what I said and not what I meant.”
“As for the complete refit . . .” He smiled. “Depends how long I’ll need to raise the cash.”
The booth went quiet then. Jenna could see they both wanted to ask her what had happened, and why. But neither man spoke another word. Nor did they meet her eye. She found it oddly touching, how concerned these two strangers were for her well-being. Noah especially. She sensed he was worried that he might have had a hand in causing her to unravel.
So she started in, choosing her words carefully. Determined not to reveal any shred of truth more than was necessary to ease their minds. “You know about Dino Vicenza.”
“The boat’s previous owner.” Amos’s gaze met hers. “You were his carer.”
“For nineteen months. By far the longest I’ve ever been with a patient.” She turned to the window. Remembering. “Dino became a very close friend. Another thing I don’t generally allow myself. But he was . . . special.”
Noah asked, “How so?”
