And though Lucy wasn’t stupid, John and Annie had agreed not to sleep together when his daughter was in the next room. “Call me old-fashioned,” Annie had said, to which he’d replied, “I’d rather call you wonderful.”

So they sneaked around like teenagers, savoring the anticipation.

“It’s so peaceful here,” Annie said to him now. “It’s so crazy—and so loud—at my place. Everyone is hustling to meet the deadline. Speaking of which, I need to run something by you. I was wondering if I could borrow Lucy.”

John nodded but kept his eyes fixed on the chowder. It might be the last batch of scallops until fall—as it was, Edgartown selectmen had voted to extend the season when small patches of the sweet shellfish had been found in the outer harbor. “Is it going to cost me anything?”

She laughed. “Not a dime. I’ll even pay her.”

He groaned. “Great. I wonder what she’ll do with it this time.”

“Winnie said you were off in a million directions when you were a boy, and that your apple hasn’t fallen too far from you.”

“Touché.” He stretched his wide, well-muscled shoulders. (“Dad has coply shoulders,” Lucy had once said, having “borrowed” the word from Blue Bloods, one of her favorite TV shows.) “So what’s up? More soap-making?” He reached into an upper cabinet and retrieved three chowder crocks.

“No. Much more fun. And definitely cleaner. I want to decorate the Inn with things we can collect on island beaches. Sea glass, wampum, shells. Natural things, nothing all decked out like souvenirs.”

“Sounds good.” He pulled a ladle from a drawer and began to transfer the chowder to the crocks. “And you want her to . . . ?”

“Go beachcombing with me. Help me find unique things. Special things.”

“Uh-huh. I see.”

“So? Is it all right with you if I ask her?”

“No,” he said.

Just then Lucy trundled down the stairs and whirled into the kitchen, her intuitive radar always seeming to know it was okay to interrupt. “Hi, Annie. When’s dinner? I’m starving.”

Annie knew she should have smiled and let the subject shift to Lucy, ask how her day had gone, and if she’d had a chance to work on her genealogy project. She wouldn’t ask Lucy to help hunt for decorating treasure, though Annie was still stunned by John’s negative reaction.

So she only said hello, then got up from the table, walked four feet to him, and looked him squarely in the face. It is a handsome face, she thought. It is, indeed, Murphy agreed.

Trying not to acknowledge Murphy’s impromptu presence, Annie said, “No?” She wasn’t sure if she should pursue the conversation with Lucy in the room.

John said nothing.

Lucy said, “Jeez, are you guys fighting?”

Then John started to laugh. “No.”

Annie remained baffled.