Chapter 19 The Ingrid
The Ingrid
Keir
Since its announcement, I salivated over this top-of-the-line Hallberg-Rassy.
I had to call in a few favours—including those from my uncle, King Olav, and stepfather, his brother Peder—but I got on the list. I swore it was a retirement present, just like the new jet I’d bought myself.
My mother had opinions about my spending, but Ingrid and my aunt—the only two people I had to be accountable to these days—didn’t bat an eye.
Ingrid knew if she blanched at the cost, she’d hear about her horse spending.
My aunt loved toys as much as the next pilot, so she gifted the jet to me as a retirement present.
As such, my mother backed off about “wasting” my inheritance.
Peder patted my back. “Your father would lose his mind about now. This thing is beautiful.”
Lars looked jealous, “It’s a shame it’s wasted on you.”
“Focus on the Olympics,” I chuckled. “The two of you will have plenty to be excited for.”
Lars would no doubt qualify for the Norwegian sailing team, as he had twice now.
He was a gifted sailor. I felt I could match him if I could concentrate my energy on sailing.
Alas, I was old and pulled in a million directions—mainly in Ingrid’s wake.
She deserved to play priority after her patience as an Air Force girlfriend.
“It’s nice,” Ingrid said. “Lovely.”
I pulled her close and whispered, “We’ll have to christen it.”
She giggled. “You make many assumptions, baby.”
I kissed her. “I will get what I want. I usually do.”
“You two make me sick,” Win, one of my younger twin brothers, groaned.
“Get used to it,” Ollie, his twin, said in Norsk.
“You two realise I can understand you, right?” Ingrid asked.
Neither answered.
“You men ready to head south?” I asked.
“I’m in,” Lars said.
“I loathe being stranded here,” Uncle Olav sighed. “You young men should have the best time. What a wild idea!”
“Too wild. And fucking cold.” Ingrid rolled her eyes. “You know, the whole thing is mad.”
“It’s beautiful,” I said. “Southampton will welcome us.”
It was true. The marathon session would have us landing there before heading across the North Sea before the weather made our passage impossible. Once moored, a shipper would transport it to Florida for me. I’d spend the winter on and off in Florida competing in the Caribbean circuit as I could.
“We will have fun,” Isaak noted.
“I will be in Florida lounging by a pool,” Ingrid said. “While you idiots toil.”
She liked to sail. She did not like the idea of sailing across a nasty Atlantic Ocean for days. The passage was known to be miserable this time of year. Besides, it was a boys’ trip. We’d had much more fun without the girls aboard, I suspected.
“What are we calling it?” Lars asked.
“I think the Ingrid probably fits the bill.”
“Cheeky bastard,” Ingrid chuckled. “God, you do the most, don’t you?”
“Just to get a rise out of you,” I promised. “I love you, baby.”
“I love you, too. even if you annoy me at times. Yes. I will let you name your yacht after me.”