He heard his question fall into the silence. Considered it again, then softly added, “If I look, if I find it—or it finds me.”
Wayland didn’t say anything, but Kit knew he was listening. Kit shifted in the hammock, then, as its swinging settled again, said, “In a nutshell, Rand marrying has had me rethinking my attitude to marriage—that perhaps Mama’s influence is waning at last, and it’s time I ought to actively think about finding a wife.”
That brought a snort from Wayland. “You are thinking of a wife—specifically, Sylvia Buckleberry. You do realize that you’ve spent more time with her in recent days than you have with any other marriageable lady ever?”
Kit grunted. Wayland was right, but Kit had had enough of baring his soul. “So that’s me—what about you? You’ve shown precious little interest in anything beyond yachts for years.”
“I know. But it’s only since returning here and feeling that, with Cavanaugh Yachts, I’ve finally got my feet planted solidly beneath me, that I’ve realized that the years are flitting past, and here I am, still a bachelor.”
“You’ll be an even more desirable parti in a year or so, once the business takes off.”
“True. And unlike you, I have no excuse—nothing in my background to turn me against marriage. Admittedly, my parents’ union isn’t any great example, but at least, marriage-wise, I’m starting with a clean slate compared to you.”
Wayland fell silent for a moment, then ventured, “I think it’s been ambition that, until now, has consumed me. It was always my dream to be the designer of the world’s best yachts. That was always going to be the way I made my mark in the world, and until I got there... Well, I literally didn’t see anything beyond what I needed to advance toward that goal. As you know, ladies have barely impinged, and only when the itch got so distracting I had to attend to it—so that I could keep working as I wished to. My life over the last decade has been strictly defined by my one overriding goal.”
In the dark, Kit nodded. “Single-minded focus. That is, indeed, your greatest asset and your besetting sin.”
“Exactly.” Wayland paused, then went on, “But now, being here with you and starting Cavanaugh Yachts, I can see the end in sight. And it suddenly occurred to me that achieving that goal is, in reality, only one step—one cornerstone, if you will—in building my life, the sort of life I want.” Wayland sighed gustily. “So I started asking myself what else I wanted in my life, and I realized that to truly enjoy the fruits of my ambition, I need a wife and a family to share them with. I’m not explaining this well, but it seems to me that I need a wife and family in order to make sense of becoming the best yacht designer in the world.”
After a moment, he continued, “I never before looked past achieving my ambition, but I suspect my wanting a wife and family has always been there, but with my focus locked on my central goal, I simply didn’t notice. And now I have.”
Knowing Wayland as he did, Kit could understand that. But there was something else in what Wayland had said... Kit murmured, “What did you mean by saying that a wife and family would make sense of your ultimate success?”
Wayland snorted softly. “I did say I’m not sure how to explain...” After several seconds had ticked past, he offered, “Think of it this way—seeing our first yacht on the water is going to be a great moment for us. Immensely satisfying. Seeing the first yacht we sell to someone else sailing away will be another instant of extreme satisfaction. But what happens when our twentieth hull slides into the water? Where will the satisfaction come from then?”
Kit let Wayland’s words percolate through his brain. After some time, he ventured, “You mean that, in order to continue to give satisfaction, a successful business needs to enable something further—something beyond the walls of the business itself.” As the words fell into the silence, he sensed he was on the right track. “A successful business needs to power some other, greater purpose.”
He couldn’t see Wayland, but suspected his friend was nodding as he replied, “I think that, for men like us, regardless of the details of our upbringings and younger leanings, a family is the one thing that will give us the greatest purpose in our lives.”
Kit nodded, too. “A family will anchor us—be our port through any storm—and give us reason for continuing to strive to succeed.”
Wayland sighed feelingly. “And with that, all should now be clear.”
Kit smiled. As the night settled comfortably around them, cocooning them in dark and quiet, he let his and Wayland’s words float through his mind, absorbed the thoughts those words conveyed, and let them sink in.
Of all their comments, his
own about an anchor that held one in safety throughout any storm resonated most strongly—that, and Wayland’s invoking the notion of cornerstones. Kit realized that he’d already started thinking of Sylvia as his...not cornerstone but lynchpin, the central anchor around which the family he wished to create would revolve.
For him, she was the key.
As for his mother’s lingering if waning influence, he now saw that as a net constraining and restricting him—holding him back. Not being one of Lavinia’s children, Ryder had never been trapped, but all three of Kit’s other siblings and he had. Now Rand had broken free, and Kit felt as if he was on the cusp of doing the same. Stacie and Godfrey, being younger and more firmly under Lavinia’s thrall, were, he suspected, still enmeshed, but for him, yes, it was time to snap the last strands and walk free.
It was time for him to seize the chance and take the risk of trying for love and happiness.
Those connected prizes were now his most fundamental desires.
In his mind’s eye, he saw the look on Rand’s face—the emotion he’d seen shining there when his brother had looked at Felicia. Kit could almost taste that emotion—one he’d never thought to feel himself—yet in his heart, he knew that was precisely the emotion that was growing inside him, focused on Sylvia. It was she—the fiery, passionate lady she truly was—who had given that emotion life and called it forth.
She’d rapidly become the personification of his future; in her eyes, he saw the promise of a future wherein he would be free to love.
He dwelled on the prospect, and as sleep drew inexorably nearer, his mind skated back over all he’d assimilated in the past hour.
Quite aside from Sylvia being critical to his future, one idea rose above all others.
When it came to lasting achievements, while business was for now, family was forever.
* * *