The photograph of Björn was cropped beneath the vest of his suit, and Kennet’s fingertip touched the chain arching from one vest button to the little pocket where Björn kept his watch. Off the chain hung one large fob shaped like a fish, and four smaller fobs, also fish.

“A jeweler made the big fish as a wedding present. And then each of these little fish when a child was born.” Kennet’s finger touched each one, naming them. “Uncle Kennet. He’s oldest, and I’m named after him. Then my father, Emil. Then Major—his real name is Erik. And this last fish is Major’s twin, Beatrice. But she died young.”

“Oh dear,” Astrid said faintly.

“I loved to sit in Farfar’s lap and play with those fish. Especially the big one. It was made in sections and it could wiggle back and forth.” He brought his pointing finger down from the mantel and looked at his palm. “I remember when I was done playing with it, my hand would smell…like gold, I guess. Just a funny metal smell lingering on my fingers. I liked it.”

Now Astrid reached a finger and drew a little soft circle in Kennet’s palm. She looked up at him and smiled. “Bra som guld.”

Good as gold.

A shiver ran over Kennet’s skin, and his toes curled tight in his socks.

“Dinner’s ready,” Marta called from the next room.

“Tell me more later?” Astrid said.

He nodded. He wanted to put his palm to his nose and inhale the scent of her touch. He put the hand in his pocket instead, and with the other, gestured toward the dining room.

Like a Gentleman

The Fisher Hotel’s first touring boat was called the Marianne. Björn built her in 1905—a narrow, single-deck wooden craft with open seating. As the tourism industry boomed around the Thousand Islands and vacationers clamored to see the sights in both fair and poor weather, Björn converted the Marianne to a covered boat. He and Emil built her sister craft, the Marianne II, with an enclosed cabin, and business doubled. The crown jewel of the little fleet was launched in 1919: the Marianne III, with her closed, covered cabin, working glass windows and, luxury of luxuries, her built-in washroom.

Marianne was retired now, shut away on sawhorses on Grennell Island. The II and III docked at the hotel marina, along with the family’s personal boats. The two Erik Fiskares always berthed their Gar-Woods side by side, the E-Major and the E-Minor. Nalle, the little bear, called his Chris-Craft Melissa, which meant honeybee.

Astrid looked around the marina, a hand shading her eyes. “Little doesn’t have a boat yet?”

“Not until he’s sixteen. It’s the rule.”

“Rule of the house, or rule of the river?”

He grinned down at her. “Both.”

“And will Trudy get a boat?”