Annie handed the captain the ticket from her coupon book at the same time that Restless vaulted over the seat and plopped onto her lap, wagging at the captain as if bidding him hello. “Lucy, get the dog . . .”

As Lucy absently reached out and scooped up the dog, her eyes did not leave her phone.

“What happened?” Annie asked. She presumed that the texter had been Jonas.

“He told her. He told Taylor he knew. He says he’s on his way to Boston to get proof. After that, he’ll be in New York.” Lucy’s lower lip stuck out, her forehead scrunched. “Crap. He isn’t coming back.”

As Annie drove the Jeep off the ferry on the other side, she felt another twinge of sadness, this one for Lucy who was losing her friend—her friend and, thank goodness, nothing more. Feeling more than exhausted from the drama of the day, Annie wished she could go home and nap, which, of course, she couldn’t, because Donna was in her bed. And the noise level at the Inn wasn’t conducive to rest.

* * *

Instead of dropping Lucy off, Annie went into the house to visit Claire. Earl’s pickup was not in the driveway; he no doubt was enabling Kevin’s wishful thinking that the Inn would soon be open.

They stepped up on the deck where several flats of yellow and purple pansies were lined up along the railing. Lucy unhooked the leash and let Restless roam the yard; there was no traffic to worry about, and he liked being with people too much to wander very far.

“What the heck is Grandma going to do with all those?” Lucy said, pointing at the flowers as she knocked on the door. “She can’t stoop over and dig in the ground. Not since her stroke.”

The door opened. Lucy gestured toward the pansies without saying hello.

“Who’s gonna plant those, Gram?”

Claire smiled. Her white, flyaway hair was living up to its description, but her forty-year-old jogging suit looked as clean and bright as the day she’d no doubt found it off island on a J.C. Penney rack. “I was hoping one of my granddaughters would come along and offer to plant them for me. Your grandfather doesn’t have much time these days.”

“Of course I will, Gram. Why didn’t you text me?” Then Lucy rolled her eyes. “Right. Grandmas don’t text. Grandmas use the telephone.”

Claire wriggled a bent, arthritic finger at Lucy. “And don’t you forget it.” They laughed. Annie smiled, feeling as if she’d stepped onto a stage again, where she was merely an observer of life. “Well, come on in first, the both of you. Have a cuppa something.”

“Tea would be wonderful,” Annie said.

“I’ll have a beer,” Lucy said, and Claire laughed. Clearly, she’d heard it before.

Restless did not reply. He was preoccupied sniffing the turf.