Annie sighed. “I only know what she told us, Kevin. That she had ovarian cancer, radiation, and chemo. But that she’s ‘all clear’ now. Don’t you believe her?”

“No.” It was his turn to fiddle with the sugar and the cream while Annie waited for him to gather his words. “She’s a terrible liar. She says she’s exhausted from treatment, but she looks like shit. And I caught her sitting in a chair just before dawn, staring into space.”

“Maybe she was enjoying the view. Sunrises here are amazing, though I haven’t seen many of them. They always happen too early, you know?” Annie was trying to lighten the mood, though it did not seem to be working.

Ignoring her comment, he pushed his mug away. “She had a visitor yesterday. Earl told me he saw her.”

“So did I. In fact, I met her. Her name is Georgia Nelson. She’s a home companion. She’s going to help Donna out around the cottage—cleaning, doing laundry, that kind of stuff—so we don’t have to. Donna seems excited that she’s, as she called it, ‘taking the burden’ off us.”

He studied his coffee as if searching for tea leaves. “Georgia Nelson is a hospice nurse.”

About to take a drink, Annie stopped, her hand, and the mug, paralyzed in midair. “What?”

“She’s a hospice nurse. You probably know what that is?”

She set the mug down. “Of course. But really, Kevin? Are you sure?”

“Earl told me.”

Earl. Of course he knew Georgia. Everyone knew pretty much everyone on the damn island. She lifted her mug again, then set it back down without taking a drink. “Maybe hospice nurses do double-duty here. Maybe they help people out wherever they’re needed. Lots of people on the island have two jobs. Or three.”

Kevin set his eyes on hers. “Do you really think that’s what’s going on? That Georgia showed up just to help wash out her undies? She’s a hospice nurse, Annie. They help people when they’re . . . dying.” His voice cracked on the last word; Annie’s throat tightened as he said it.

She reached across the table and rested her hand on his. “Kevin . . . what else? Did you ask Donna about it?”

Shaking his head, he started to speak when their orders arrived: scrambled eggs for Annie, an omelet for him. Annie thanked the waitress and said they didn’t need more coffee. She didn’t say it was doubtful that they’d touch their eggs.

“When I saw her staring out the window, I asked her if she couldn’t sleep because of all the commotion when your ex showed up. She said probably. She also said it had been an adrenaline rush.”

Annie pulled back her hand, picked up her fork, and pretended to get busy with her food. “Let’s not talk about that, okay? I’d rather pretend it never happened.”