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The distant explosion drowned out the screeching of seabirds and the creaking of the boat for a few fleeting moments. Lilienne spun round to see a plume of smoke on the horizon. Swearing under her breath, she drew in her empty nets and set off to investigate.
Her motorboat cut through the waves, drawing her swiftly closer to the source of the noise. Beneath the smoke, a small craft was sinking, surrounded by a scattering of debris.
When she caught sight of the bright yellow of a life jacket a short way from the wreck, she adjusted her course to head straight for the survivor.
The faint sea mist parted as she approached, and the figure wearing the life jacket finally became clear.
"Joyce! Grab my hand!" Lilienne called out, drawing near.
She managed to haul the older woman onto the boat. Her skin felt awfully cold, even after a relatively short dip in the icy waters north of Martinaise.
Lilienne took off her waterproof coat and draped it around Joyce's shoulders. "Hold on, I'll head home and you can warm up by the fire."
Joyce nodded, shivering miserably. "Th-thank you."
The journey home didn't technically take long, though it felt far longer than it ought to have. Once they were heading in the right direction, Lilienne took off her jumper and used it to start drying Joyce's hair. The wind seemed to cut right through her t-shirt, now that she'd shed her outer layers. Joyce closed her eyes and leaned in ever closer while she fussed over her, until she eventually sighed and rested her head against her chest, soaking up warmth.
Lilienne couldn't say she'd ever expected the Wild Pines rep to cosy up to her this way, but she wasn't complaining. Over the last few days, before Joyce's failed departure, the two of them had discussed the history of the fishing village, and its possible futures. Despite her outsider status, Joyce had the kind of charisma that could disarm almost anyone, and she'd been surprisingly pleasant company. If anyone else had dithered over the possibility of investing in the place, talking about the feasibility of a fishery one minute, and dismissing it as a plan unlikely to ever see fruition the next... Well, Lilienne would have given any other rich snob a piece of her mind. But Joyce had seemed truly fond of the village, nostalgic for her youthful adventures, and she'd been careful never to promise anything she couldn't deliver. It was difficult to hold that against her, even while it was similarly difficult to take anything she said at face value.
By the time they reached the jetty, Joyce had partway dried off, and she disentangled herself with clear reluctance.
The two of them hurried to Lilienne's house, and spent a few minutes sorting out blankets, towels and spare clothes. Lilienne's second best jumper and jeans looked oddly elegant when Joyce wore them, her poise ingrained enough to endure even at a time like this.
They sat by the fire and shared a hasty meal of dried fish, cheese, crackers and soda. Joyce stared into the flames, and took a while to gather her thoughts before speaking.
"I must thank you again for coming to my aid. I imagine you're wondering what happened. I'll admit, so am I."
"You're alive, and that's what counts." Lilienne offered her an encouraging smile. Either she'd get an explanation, or she wouldn't.
"Yes, I do seem to be." Joyce hesitated, then met her gaze and continued, clearly choosing her words carefully. "My best guess is that someone sabotaged my yacht. The engine was recently serviced, I always take care to store fuel safely, and I wasn't carrying any flammable cargo. Our friends in the RCM were kind enough to warn me that the political volatility around here is, ah, deliberate. The Union wants to take the docks, even if that sparks a war. They think they can win. Revolution is in the air. I should have anticipated further trouble, or at least the possibility..."
"I'd say you should have hired a security detail, but you did, and look how that turned out."
"I didn't hire them. The company did," Joyce clarified.
"Still, it goes to show you can't predict everything."
"I suppose there are only so many safeguards one can take."
"What's your next move?"
"Good question." Joyce reached out to clasp her hand. She'd warmed up considerably, but her fingers were still cold. "I think I'd better lay low. Someone wants me dead. They might have noticed the rescue. I shouldn't stay here for long, but heading into town would be risky. Can you recommend any hideouts nearby?"
"There's a hidden bunker under the old Feld building, or so Harry told me. We can take a look, whenever you're ready to venture out."
"That might do the trick. For a few days, at least. Would you be able to make a call for me, if I write down the message? Wild Pines has a set of codes prepared for emergency use. Even if the line is tapped, the message should be secure."
"I can't say I have much experience with all that cloak and dagger shit, but I'll do what I can to help you out."
"Thank you." Joyce sounded truly grateful. "I'm sorry, I didn't plan on imposing on you this way."
"Can't be helped, and I can't say I mind the company." Lilienne squeezed her hand.
"My hero." Joyce's tone was mildly mischievous, and sincere all the same. She pressed a kiss to the back of Lilienne's hand, a fleeting and old-fashioned gesture.
"Uh huh. Sit tight, you'd better finish warming up before we go anywhere." Lilienne rubbed her thumb across her palm, then got up to stoke the fire.
What had she gotten herself into? This almost felt like the start of a fairy tale, one where a rich widow falls straight into a humble fisherwoman's lap. Or the start of a chapter in a future textbook, about a couple of casualties in a doomed revolution.
Well, she'd sworn off any more husbands like the last, and left the door open for landed gentry to sweep her off her feet. Not that she'd expected any such thing to happen, and there was no telling where this would lead...
For the moment, she didn't want to know for sure what disappointments the future might hold. The taste of hope was far sweeter than her usual fare.