Shane took hold of the braided rail and started pushing the craft toward shore. A wave came up and sloshed his neck. The next one tossed brackish seawater into his mouth.
"Hell's bells!" he snarled. "I'm not getting anyplace." He shook his head and swore again. The sunglasses fell from his face and disappeared into the water.
"Now see what you made me do? Those were my trademark. "
Despite the violence of his voice, the girl's expression changed. The fear evaporated. The wonderment remained, but she seemed no longer afraid.
For the first time, she spoke.
"Alla dinna Dolla-Dree," she said musically.
"Same to you," said Shane Billiken, spitting salt from his mouth. He was trying to feel for his shades with his toes. He found them when a wave knocked the boat against his chest, and it was all he could do to hold on to the boat. His feet dug into the silty sea bottom. He felt plastic break under one foot.
Swearing, he started to push the boat for shore. Gradually he got it moving. The girl took hold of the tiller, steadying it so that the craft didn't drag.
The water was down around Shane Billiken's knees when the keel grated the sand. He shoved the boat from behind and got the prow onto dry beach.
"Okay, come on. Out of there," Shane ordered, offering his hand.
The girl stood up and shook her skirt. Salt water had stiffened it. Shane noticed that the cloth was of a very coarse weave, and when he reached out to help her onto the beach, his forearms brushed it. It felt like sandpaper. But along the edges of the hem and collar and shortened sleeves was decorative stitching. He touched them instinctively. It was like touching metal wire.
"Silver," he breathed.
"Berra yi Moo. Hakka Banda. Sinanchu. Sinanchu, danna?"
"Babe, I haven't a clue what you're saying, but my name's Shane. Me, Shane. Get it?"
"Sinanchu, danna?"
"Is that your name, Sinanchu?" Shane asked.
The girl grabbed his arm eagerly and spewed out a torrent of words: "Se, Sinanchu. Ho cinda ca Sinanchu. Kapu Moo an Dolla-Dree."
"Whoa, slow down. I don't savvy. What's this?"
The girl was digging under her skirt. Shane Billiken noticed that she had great legs. Better than Glinda's. Come to think of it, her face was prettier than Glinda's. He stared up at the sundeck. Glinda waved back at him. Yes, definitely better than Glinda. And all her parts were probably organic, too. No plastic augmentation.
The girl dug something from under her skirt. It was a leather pouch. It was hung from a string. The pouch rattled when she shook it. She opened it and dug out a handful of fat silvery coins. They resembled old-fashioned silver dollars.
She offered some to Shane.
"Bama hree Sinanchu?" she asked.
"Yeah, right," muttered Shane Billiken. He examined the coins. They were crude. He could see the marks of hammering. Probably handmade. On one side there was the profile of a man who wore a crown. On the other was a fish. Maybe a shark. The fish side was ringed with incised lettering. Shane didn't recognize the script.
"Sinanchu, danna?"
"No comprenda," said Shane Billiken. He shook his head. "No savvy. No. No."
The excited expression fled from the girl's face. She snatched back the coins and replaced them inside the pouch. The pouch then disappeared under her skirt. Shane Billiken watched every move, marveling at her slim honeygold legs.
"Wait," he said when she started back for the boat. "Wait here."
"Papa dui kuru da Sinanchu," she said.
"Right, Sinanchu, Wait here, Sinanchu. Okay? Wait." He pantomimed for her to stay, then ran up to the redwood sundeck and joined Glinda.
"Glinda," he said. "Baby." He was puffing with exertion.
"Who is she, Shane?"
"This is going to be hard on me, baby."
"What? What is?" Her face screwed up like a baby whose lollipop had been snatched away.
"We're adults. Both of us."
"Yeah?" Glinda bit her knuckles.
"But better than that, we're both Realized Beings. We've been through Yoga together. We've Rolfed together. We've chanted mantras until the sun came up."
"We've been on Donahue together," Glinda retorted. "Don't forget that. You wouldn't have gotten on Donahue without me."
"Baby, don't make this any worse than it is. Remember before, when we were talking about reincarnation?"
"Yeah. But what does that have to do with her?"
"Everything. Just listen to me. Okay? Remember when I told you all about Soul Mates?"
"You said we were Soul Mates."
"We are, we are, baby. That's what has made our time together so special. That's why we'll always have these precious memories, no matter what."
"I knew it. You're dumping me. Dumping me for that ... that ragamuffin who just happened to wash up on your beach. Our beach. The beach you bought with the money we made."
"Baby. Glinda. Please. I'm trying to explain Soul Mates."
Glinda folded her arms. "Go ahead."
"That girl down there, do you know who she is?"
"No. And I don't want to."
"She's Princess Sinanchu. My eternal Soul Mate. She's really from the lost continent of Atlantis, too. But she never died, because she's immortal. She's been at sea for thousands of years, searching, seeking. And do you know what she's been seeking all this time?"
"A free lunch?"