FORSAKEN WIFE, NOW A BILLIONAIRE'S GREATEST REGRET
In our private lives, we were discovering the strange, spacious freedom of a job well and truly done.
Lanc’s dinghy, a beautiful, silly thing named The Second Thought, was upside-down in his driveway, smelling of fresh varnish. Arthur and Hank were his frequent, opinionated assistants.
“The line of that sheer is all wrong,” Hank would declare, stepping back to squint.
“It’s a dinghy, Hank, not a clipper ship,” Lanc would grumble, sanding with violent satisfaction.
“Every vessel deserves respect,” Arthur would intone, holding a plank in place. “It’s a floating world unto itself.”
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