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"Hey, Kev!" my sister called from the other room. "Telephone, Kev." I slid my tv dinner in the stove real quick to keep it warm and wiped my hands before padding over to the phone. "Hello," I said into the receiver while carrying it into the kitchen with me. "You ready?" asked a familiar voice, a voice I'd been dying to hear for almost 7 months now. "Raymond?!" I exclaimed. "Shit, I can't believe it's you!"

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It was a beautiful warm sunny day -- well, hot actually -- though the stiff on-shore breeze blowing up from the south made the heat tolerable. Otherwise, it was a perfect day for sailing. I sat at the wheel of my sailboat, named Felicity, which my wife, Karen, always insisted on calling a "yacht" because it was just over thirty feet in length. Karen wasn't on board with me. At the last minute on Friday, her boss had asked Karen to fly to Boston for a crucial project and he needed Karen to meet with the proposal team early Sunday -- today -- so she'd flown out last evening.

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