Annie nodded, but was done discussing it. She thanked Claire for her advice and for being kind. Then she said she needed to go and check on Donna. “I’ll think about our talk,” she said as she stood up. “Thanks again, Claire. I don’t know what I would have done on this island without you and Earl.” She didn’t add that Mark was the last person she wanted to risk seeing again. Ever. And despite Claire’s comment that he might already know everything about her, Annie knew the odds were long that he wanted to see her, either. Still, she couldn’t take that chance. Because part of her worried that if she saw him, her common sense would implode and she’d be sucked in by his charm again. “It’s called being human,” as Claire had said.

* * *

Lucy wanted to keep her grandmother company until Earl got home because she said Earl loved playing ball with Restless. (The truth was, so did Lucy, who still lingered in that great divide between being a tomboy and a grown-up woman.) Claire sent Annie off with a container of freshly made fish chowder—Charlie Beebe had dropped off a striper that he’d hooked that morning off Menemsha—and a Ziploc of oyster crackers. “Comfort food for Donna,” she’d announced. And though Annie thought Donna would appreciate the gesture, she wasn’t sure if food would be much “comfort” to Donna until she had fully recuperated.

But when Annie got home, Donna was asleep. She dashed off a note, put the chowder in the refrigerator, then got back in the Jeep and headed toward a place where she knew she could think, Wasque Point, facing the Atlantic. She followed the familiar strip of paved street until it gave way to a rutty dirt road. With the four-wheel drive confidently bouncing along, Annie knew she felt better. Claire had helped; it was nice to grow closer to John’s mother.

John, she thought as she reached the southern curve of the 200-acre preserve that skimmed Chappy’s eastern shoreline. Would he be upset if she contacted Larry? That she’d attempted to interfere with legalities, and, even worse, had done so through her ex-husband’s friend?

Parking the Jeep, she grabbed her phone, got out, and headed down the long path toward the water. The sun was starting to set; a vibrant orange ribbon stretched across the horizon where the ocean met the sky. The air had grown cooler—the chill reminded her that it still was April. She was glad she’d put on an old cable-knit cardigan.