“Kind of?” Nalle said. “He can peel and eat a lime the way we’d eat an orange.”

“He eats the peel,” Kirsten said.

“When we were young, all of us raided the bar for maraschino cherries,” Minor said. “But Kennet stole lemons and limes.”

“You should see how he drinks tea,” Little said. “He steeps it so long, Marta says you can stand a spoon up in it.”

“I don’t brew tea,” Kennet said, “I stew it.”

“Gross,” Little said. “And he barely adds any sugar.”

“No worries if you burn the toast,” Nalle said. “Just give it to Kennet.”

“Are we done criticizing my palate?” Kennet said.

“Kennet has no fear of catching malaria,” Minor said. “He has quinine water in his blood. Now I’m done.”

As her eyes volleyed around the ribbing, Astrid nibbled on a plain dandelion leaf. Obviously trying to keep her expression placid, but a corner of one eye kept screwing up.

“It’s an acquired taste,” Kennet said, laughing.

Onto her fork Astrid pushed a bit of fish, a bit of bacon, one small wedge of potato and a few leaves of dressed salad. She chewed with her eyes closed, face up to the darkening sky. Then she looked around the circle, smiling happily. “This is the best lunch I’ve ever had.”

“I wish you could live with us forever,” Kirsten said.

Astrid leaned and kissed the girl’s head. “I do, too.”

“Holy smokes, it clouded over,” Nalle said, looking up beneath the visor of his hand.

Everyone except Astrid stood or swiveled to gaze at the western skies.

“What are you looking for?” she asked.

“Not for but at,” Minor said, pointing. “Wolfe Island.”

“More specifically, the clouds over Wolfe Island,” Kennet said. “See how they’re gathering up? That’s a storm. Now we have to watch them.”

The Fiskares had been taught from the time they could tell west from east: if storm clouds divided over Wolfe Island, then the storm would divide. Part of it would move south to Oswego, the other north to Montreal, leaving the river a safety zone. If the clouds didn’t divide over Wolfe Island, they had ten minutes to get off the river. If they were already off, they were to stay off.

“One time we didn’t,” Little said. “We were having a fika here and the clouds didn’t divide. Kennet tried to beat the storm home.”

“He lost,” Nalle said.

“We got in so much trouble,” Trudy said.

“We don’t have to tell this fish tale,” Kennet said.

“Oh but we do,” Minor said.

“Every year I get older, the gravity of that night just sinks in a little more,” Nalle said. “I mean, we could’ve been killed.”

“What happened?” Astrid asked.

“I hit a shoal,” Kennet said. “Engine died before we reached the marina and we foundered out there in the storm. Luckily someone spotted and picked us up.”