It was good to be back in John’s kitchen, sitting at the table, slowly sipping wine, watching as he quietly stirred the pot of scallop chowder he’d made that afternoon. Cheerful daffodils—compliments of Lucy—stood in a glass canning jar that probably came from the collection that Lucy and her grandmother Claire used for their strawberry, elderberry, and beach plum jellies and jams. Lucy had also filled the house with a welcoming aroma of freshly baked bread—in addition to genealogy, baking had become a hobby. Annie wondered if the girl would like to earn some money by supplying the Inn with home-baked muffins packed with island berries.

But she supposed she was getting ahead of things.

Having left her Jeep on the Chappy side, Annie had walked up the hill to John’s. She was tired; she hadn’t been sure if she’d be hungry, but being in his kitchen had recharged her appetite. Lucy was upstairs doing homework; their recently acquired puppy—a mix of this and that with thick black-and-white fur and jumbo paws that were growing faster than the rest of him—still didn’t have a name. Despite a number of random ideas (Rover? Spot? Lucas, after one of their ancestors who might have been Wampanoag if Lucy had her way?), John and Lucy simply had not been able to agree. The nameless pup was nestled on his soft bed in the corner, surveying every move his master made. Since late last summer, when Lucy had left her mom’s in Plymouth and moved back to the island to her dad’s, John and Annie hadn’t had much time alone, and less time for romance, let alone for sex.

They’d tried in the beginning. When John worked the four-to-midnight or midnight-to-eight shift, Lucy stayed with Earl and Claire, who had more space now that Francine was in college and she and Bella were away. When John was done at midnight, he often found a Chappy ferry captain willing to take him across to Annie’s; when he worked midnight to eight, Annie sometimes went to Edgartown and greeted him when he got home. But all that changed over Christmas vacation when Lucy turned fourteen and announced that though she loved her grandparents, she was tired of schlepping back and forth from Chappy to Edgartown to go to school or to meet up with her friends. “I’m old enough to stay alone, Dad,” she’d said. “The police station is two blocks from our house. I’m not going to do anything you won’t find out about.” John had tried to argue that he didn’t like the thought of her being alone, not because he didn’t trust her, but because he was concerned that something bad might happen. Lucy had laughed. “We’re on the Vineyard, Dad.”

Which, of course, was a solid argument, because nothing of much consequence happened in Edgartown, especially off season.