"You're saying Ulysses could have sailed up a creek, for all it mattered?"
'That's exactly what I'm saying." She leaned back. "Shit, I want a pizza so bad right now I think I'm going crazy."
Vance was still pondering her put-down of his Odyssey rerun, wondering if maybe she wasn't onto something. Maybe he had learned more about himself in two days on the island than he would have learned in two years plying the Aegean.
"All right," she said finally. "I'm sorry. I've busted your chops enough. You asked if I'd like to take a sail, and I said maybe. The truth is, I would, but I've also got a journey of my own in mind."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, before I tell you, maybe I'd better make sure you meant it. For one thing, what are you going to sail in?"
"Good question." Up until that moment he had not given much thought to personal finance. The truth was, he was broke. "I don't know if I can scrape up enough money to build an Odyssey III. It's a problem."
"Well, I'll tell you what I think. I think Bill owes you at least a boat for all you did."
He shrugged, not quite agreeing with her on that point. You don't pitch in to help out an old friend, then turn around and send him an invoice. "Maybe, maybe not. But in any case, it would be minus the ten grand I owe him for the bet I lost."
"Come on"—she frowned—"that's not fair."