Twenty
In the marina office, I filled out multiple pages of paperwork for my slip. The receptionist looked them over, then pointed to a blank section I hadn’t filled out. “You are leaving the boat here and exiting the country, yes?”
I nodded.
“Who is your caretaker?”
“Caretaker?”
“Yes, you need someone to be held responsible while you are gone, in case anything happens or your boat has a problem.”
“Uh—”
“I will be the caretaker,” Jonas interrupted. He was sitting in one of the upholstered chairs, flipping through a magazine.
“Really? Are you sure?”
“Yes, of course. We will be here anyway.”
I looked at him skeptically. “Your plans could change.”
“Nah.”
“Okay.” I handed the form over and Jonas wrote down his name and number. The receptionist helped me arrange a taxi to the airpor
