Author Note: …..alas…..we have arrived at our destination…..

Chapter 38 – Chartered Seas

Jackie and Eric were visiting the Forman's on a bright May day when Jackie had one of her light bulb moments. "Dad, I know you are partly retired, but have you ever thought about changing your part-time job?"

"Are you crazy girl? Where else can I sit around on my behind, drink beer and earn money?"

She smiled. "You could be a captain and charter my boat for money."

Red's eyes got big. "Loud One, you better be serious about this."

Jackie smiled. "I checked with the Trust. As long at the Captain is licensed, I can hire anyone I want to take the boat out. The Trust pays the money." Jackie turned to Kitty. "If someone wanted to do a little sandwich making in the galley and get paid for it…."

Kitty clapped her hands. "I could sell my brownies!" Eric piped up, "Jackie and I figured why let the boat just sit there when it could make money."

Red clapped his hands on the arm of his chair. "I like that idea. I could get some fishing in while the charter is anchored in the water."

Eric added, "…and drink a cold one."

Kitty grinned. "Oh honey, that is such a great way to work part time to retirement." Jackie squeezed Eric around the waist. "I'm giving up bartending, well because I'm pregnant and I'm going to start my own business - JB Forman Charters."

Red couldn't be more proud of her that he was at that moment.

The spring of 1987 saw a record number of births in Point Place and Kenosha hospitals. JB Forman Charters…aka…the love boat was a common denominator in the conception of 32 new babies in the previous year.

Five month old David Reginald Forman was strapped in his bouncing seat with Grandpa Red in the co-captain's chair. Five month old Michael Eric Kelso was sitting on the helmsman chair. Outside the cabin Eric was getting his dad another beer.

"Yeah, you say that now, but Mikey is so going to kick David's ass when they get in kindergarten."

Eric laughed. "My boy is huge. Seven pounds and eight ounces at birth – what did your kid weigh? Oh yeah…six pounds one ounce. AND my boy has hair!"

Kelso puffed up his chest. "Well! My son…hey! Almost all babies are born with no hair!"

Red laughed and popped the top of his beer can. These little boys were only destined to inherit half of the dumbass gene from their fathers.

His fishing pole jiggled and Red looked at his grandson and said. "Look Davey, that's how you catch a fish!"

The End

A/N : The author is not a sailor, nor a bartender, doesn't work for a newspaper, is not a Chippewa Indian and does not own anything except for the direction the story took.

I would love to thank my constant reviewers who kept me motivated and faithfully read every long chapter in this piece of fiction.

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