Maggie lowered her eyes. She was a timid girl, clearly shy in their presence. Annie wondered if she should say that one of the main characters in her books was named Maggie, too. Perhaps it might elicit a smile. But Lucy scampered to her feet, deflecting any chance Annie had to try to make Maggie feel better.

“Or . . .” Lucy prattled, “maybe the skull came from a shipwreck! Like the City of Columbus . . . remember? The one that ran aground on Devil’s Bridge during the blizzard of 1884? One of the dead sailors could have been carried to Chappy by the currents. Or”—her pearl-gray eyes lit up as if they held a secret—“maybe it was the lady from that ship . . . the one they found with her kid’s shoes frozen to her dress right where she’d been holding him . . .”

“Lucy!” John said. “Move.” He waited until the girls and Restless crossed the room, then he ducked and clomped down the narrow stairs behind them.

Annie followed him, thinking that, aside from Lucy’s imaginings, the girl might have been right about one thing: once the bone got onto the shore, it might have been preserved by the salt and seaweed once it became lodged in the rocks. Climbing back into the truck, she then wondered if Lucy, too, had the makings of a mystery writer. And, if so, how well John would cope with two novelists in his life. Then she realized she was thinking about him as if they’d be a long-term couple, and she, a stepmother, the three of them entwined like seaweed, bonded by the tides.

* * *

Friday passed in a blur of comings and goings and trying to get things done. Annie moved a few things into the bedroom at the Inn, then made a quick run into Edgartown for food and wine. Thankfully, the media, indeed, had backed off; there were no other comments on social media or You Tube about The Vineyard Inn or its unusual guest.

Late that afternoon, Kevin stopped by. They hadn’t bumped into each other all day; he looked haggard, stressed, forlorn. What had happened to her happy brother? She offered him a beer, but he said he had to get to Vineyard Haven to pick up slabs of glacial rock before Cottle’s closed. “Earl thinks the hearth should be vintage,” he added.

Annie thought it was a good idea, but not a reason for Kevin to look distraught. “Great,” she said. “What else is up?” She wondered if he’d heard about the video.

“I need a favor. Can you get Mom tomorrow?”

“You have too much to do?”

“Well, seeing as how Earl and I are trying to do the work of six men and one woman now, and do it undercover, yeah. You might say that.”