“Sail on, captain of the SS Minnow.”
I tilted my head to look at her. “She gets the Gilligan’s Island reference and tosses one right back at me. Nice.”
She laughed. “I’m impressed you got it. Our age group uses Saved by the Bell or 90210 for pop culture references, not classic TV shows.”
“If you start quoting Quantum Leap, I’ll probably have to marry you.”
“Theorizing that one could time travel within his own lifetime, Dr. Sam Beckett stepped into the Quantum Leap accelerator . . . and vanished.” Trinity smirked at me. “What? You expected I’d be a Matrix expert?” She blew a raspberry. “Too obvious. But maybe we oughta revisit the plan to steal Grandma Minnie’s pearls, since you and me are getting hitched.”
I was so freakin’ crazy about this woman. Every little thing I discovered about her made me want to know everything. “Heist planning later. Let’s hit the high points of Christmas Lake architecture.”
After I pointed out the new McMansions, I showed her my favorite, a smaller single-story home heavily influenced by Frank Lloyd Wright’s Prairie-style design.
“I love that one. I can imagine several generations of a family coming here every year and vowing to keep it in the family. When I was poring over real estate ads, nothing like that was ever listed. I’ll bet there’s a realty company that deals with unique high-end properties that the unwashed masses aren’t allowed to drool over.”
I had used that kind of company to find my house. “You mentioned living in different places. Buying a house usually means you plan on staying around. So why did you choose Minneapolis?”
She laughed.
Talk about sexy. Her soft, husky laughter did it for me in a bad way. “What’s funny about that?”
“If I tell you, you’ll think I’m a free-spirited bohemian artist with no practical business plan.”
“Doubtful. So hit me with it.”
“One year I did the state fair circuit and sold a bunch of pieces at the Minnesota State Fair. The work was odds and ends, quirky experiments I’d tried to sell in a traditional gallery or gift shop. But Midwesterners love a bargain, especially if they believe it’s one of a kind. During that two-week stint, I realized I could make a living here creating that type of art.”
I slowed the boat and put it in neutral. “What about dropping anchor here?”
“Looks good.”
After killing the engine, I hopped up and pushed the anchor off the back end of the platform. “Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt. You said you realized you could make a living here selling a certain kind of art.”
“Yes. By here I meant in the entire state of Minnesota, along with North Dakota, Wisconsin and Iowa. My smaller, funkier pieces are spread across the upper Midwest. Anyway, since I was born in the North Woods”—she smirked at me—“I know how cold the winters are. And with crappy weather eight months out of the year, I could hole up in my studio and work on larger pieces and commissions and finish projects that interest me.”
“Trinity, that sounds like a solid business plan.”
“Thank you. But the length of the winter was a shock to my system. For the first year I wondered why I’d tortured myself.”
“Then you got used to it.”
“Somewhat. I’d still rather be inside when it’s cold.”
“You just haven’t found a winter activity you like.”
She peered at me over the top of her sunglasses. “I happen to like sitting inside wrapped in a blanket sipping hot chocolate, watching classic TV. That counts as an activity.”
“Not in my family.” I opened the cooler and snagged a bottle of water, then held it out to her. “Want one?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
After grabbing another bottle, I moved the chairs into the sun. For a brief moment I let myself bask in the heat. Some guys I worked with spent their nonworking hours inside, claiming they had enough of the great outdoors during the workweek. Not me. I preferred to be outside—and not just in the summer.
“Your family expects you to participate in outdoor . . . stuff in the winter?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“What’s your favorite activity? Ice fishing?”
“Nope. That’s one I’ll skip. Being on a frozen lake freaks me out even now. So downhill skiing is first choice. Then hockey. Snowshoeing. Last is cross-country skiing.” I looked at her. “Talking about snow activities when I’m baking in the sun seems wrong.”
“You don’t seem to have the type of skin that gets fried.”
“I don’t. I just get tan. Speaking of . . . don’t you wanna sit out here with me?”