He flipped pages until he found the body of the article and began to read: swimming beaches all along the coast from Laguna in Orange County, on down to Coronado, Venice, Hermosa and even La Jolla, were all reporting pods of dolphins in close to the shoreline. Not actually beaching, but simply refusing to be herded back out to sea, or even to deeper water.

“What’s with you guys?” Jack read on, sipping slowly. They weren’t even the same type of dolphin; there were hundreds of Common dolphins, little guys that were fast and normally friendly. But also their bigger cousins, the Bottlenose – ten-footers who weren’t afraid to take on predators who invaded their patch.

He frowned. “And Rissos, too?” The Risso dolphin looked more whale-like than a dolphin with its round, blunt head. They were also pretty damn big, growing up to twelve feet. And they were shy, usually staying well away from humans.

Jack rubbed his chin. He’d followed dolphin pods before. An earthquake could throw them off and drive them into the shallows, so could a pod of hungry orcas, or a big a fishing party, like the slaughter fests in the outer Japanese islands.

Weird. He read the last paragraph where a meteorologist was blaming climate change. Jack snorted. Was anything not climate change’s fault these days?

He dropped the paper and stood, looking back at the last bits of work to do. He was on schedule, and wanted to be ready to receive guests by Tuesday. Jack looked out over the calm, blue water, daydreaming for a moment. There was just one guest – Cate Granger, and she was coming down from Redwood to spend a week with him. They’d been dating again, and things were going great. But he knew if she was coming all the way over to finally set foot back out on the water, he’d see to it that it was done in utmost luxury.

He was a man of the sea. It was going to be awkward having a potential wife who couldn’t even look at saltwater. The boat had to be in tiptop shape, champagne in the icebox, the weather calm, and himself on his charming best behavior – everything all safe and secure. What’s not to like?

He lifted his sanding block. “Ready, Ozzy?”

The small dog dropped the brush and spun again, grinning madly.

“Then let’s do this.” Jack knelt, rubbed, and hummed.

CHAPTER 27

CHAPTER 27

Cate held a half eaten apple in her hand as she and Abby sat on the Stanford lawn close to the main building. Neither spoke, and there was an awkwardness between them. She looked up at the small, brass plaque once again.

‘Dedicated to Greg Nathan Jamison – missed but never forgotten – From his family, friends, and faculty.’