“Not as bad as a typhoon in the South China Sea, but it was fairly rocky. And it’s always unnerving to be on a boat, a plane, or a train, whenever passengers fall silent, when they stop scolding their children or commiserating with their traveling companion and, instead, sit very still and white-knuckle their seats. I find that more disturbing than rowdy laughter, babies squealing, and on these ferries, dogs barking. Don’t you?” While she spoke, she fussed with the napkin—first on the table, then in her lap—then straightened the knife, the fork, the spoon, the salt and pepper, never losing her small smile.

It was a sardonic smile, Annie realized. A knowing smile. She recognized the look, because she suspected that she, too, wore that expression when there was something she did not want to talk about. She wondered if it was a trait she’d received from Donna through Lucy’s favorite topic, DNA.

“I’m so sorry,” Annie said. “But it’s good that you didn’t bring your car over. The driving is awful. I take it you figured out where to get the shuttle in the lot?”

Donna shook her head. “I took the bus from South Station right down to the pier. It was far easier. And less costly.”

Annie didn’t want to ask if that meant Donna planned to stay a while. She’d leave that up to Kevin to address.

Their server arrived, and both women asked for tea and a crock of quahog chowder.

Then Donna drove the small talk about how much she was enjoying retirement (“It is delicious, like fresh herbs plucked from a dew-dropped garden in the French countryside, served with cheese drizzled with olive oil”); how wonderful it was that Kevin had adapted so readily to island life (“He’d never even been here before!”); and how well Annie’s next book must be coming along (“My goodness, I don’t know how you do it!”). She sounded more energetic than her frail appearance suggested. “And the Inn!” she added as their tea and chowder arrived. “How are the men doing on their own? What a shame that some of their crew abandoned them.”

Annie nodded and savored a spoonful of chowder, then decided to tackle the elephant in the Black Dog. “Everyone’s making do,” she said, then rested her elbows on the armrests of the captain’s chair and quietly added, “Donna? Are you all right?”

Her birth mother blinked, added a few granules of sugar to her tea, and slowly stirred. Annie wasn’t sure if she’d heard her.

Finally setting down her spoon, Donna sipped her tea, then set the mug down, too. Without looking at Annie, she said, “I was quite ill this winter.” Her announcement was followed by a soft thump of silence.