Donna shook her head. “I’m fine, dear. I didn’t mean to upset Kevin. It seems like that’s all I’ve done since I arrived.”

“I’m not sure,” Annie said with a smile, “but I think that’s a mother’s prerogative.”

“I’ll try not to misbehave again. But though I understand his hesitation, I do think Gina might be able to help. Or she might have connections to someone who could.”

As tempting as it might have been to ask what Donna meant about Kevin’s hesitation, Annie didn’t. For all she knew, Gina was an old flame that he didn’t want to cross paths with again. So she merely said, “I guess we’ll have to wait and see,” which seemed to be the new mantra for them.

But on her way up the hill, Annie knew that Donna had a point. Feeling homeless was still fresh in Annie’s mind. And with the season coming fast upon them, Greg Collins, Marty and Luke Amanti, and Harlin Pierce (who’d rented the third room) might need to be back in the market for somewhere to live. Greg was a carpenter who had been commuting from Falmouth on the Cape; the Amantis were elementary school teachers in Edgartown whose landlord had sold the house they’d been renting, forcing them to move in with friends; Harlin was on the waitstaff at an upscale restaurant, had a marimba band, and currently lived with six guys and a whole lot of percussion instruments in a cramped two-bedroom apartment—Annie had asked if his band would play at the Inn’s grand opening. The new tenants were all hardworking young people at the start of their careers who needed the kind of break that the Inn was intended to provide. The winter rentals would accommodate three more islanders come October; eleven people were already on the waiting list. Earl, Kevin, and Annie had gone into the project knowing they could not single-handedly solve the housing problem on the island, but they’d wanted to help in this small way.

Like the hummingbird, she heard Murphy whisper.

Annie stopped and looked out to the water, remembering the tale from the indigenous people of South America about a hummingbird. When a forest fire raged through his homeland, the hummingbird carried water in its tiny beak—one drop at a time—back and forth from a stream, attempting to put out the fire. The other forest animals huddled in fear; one asked the bird why it was bothering to try to do the impossible. The hummingbird said while he knew he could not douse the entire fire, he at least could do his part.