“Actually, I’m glad I saw you,” I say, as if it was pure accident that I came over here and not like I was scoping out the scene of my crime, hoping he would be here. “I had an idea I wanted to run by you, if you were interested in hearing it. It’s not perfect, but it’s something.”

He throws a look over his shoulder. “I’m done here in half an hour, and I can spare a little time before I head back to the boatyard for the rest of the afternoon. You want to meet me someplace?”

The Quarterdeck is a coffeehouse off the Harborwalk between my family’s neighborhood in the South Harbor and the heart of the historic district. But it’s not just any old coffeehouse: It’s a docked replica of a French ship from 1778’s Battle of Rhode Island. Patrons cross a plank-like bridge and board the main deck of the ship, where tables sit under masts and rigging, flags fluttering in the harbor breeze.

To order, you head down into the belly of the ship—there are tables and small booths down here, too—and Lucky has given me a very specific, very irritating drink order: Fill the cup exactly one-quarter-full of cream, then add plain cold brew coffee to the brim, no ice. The barista gives me an apathetic look when I repeat this but doesn’t question it, so I tip her extra.

Nearly spilling Lucky’s stupid extra-full drink, which threatens to slosh out of the straw like a whale spewing water from a blowhole, I climb back up to the upper deck and find an empty table between two cannons that overlooks the harbor. When I’m halfway finished drinking my normally filled but not-so-great latte, Lucky slides into the seat across from me. He’s wearing his leather jacket over the paint-splattered tight T-shirt, so at least I don’t have to stare at the pornographic outline of his chest.

He inspects the cup sitting on his side of the table. “You got it right.”

“Don’t sound so surprised. I can order a drink in a coffee shop … even ridiculous ones. You forget that my mom’s managed half the bookstores in New England and a good chunk of them had coffee shops inside. I’ve done most of my homework in below-average coffee shops.”

“Don’t drink coffee in bookstores? That’s what you’re saying?”

“Oh-ho-ho, the health code violations I’ve seen.”