She leashed up Pearl and walked her out to the dock. The heat had let up, beaten back by the wind blowing off the bay. Crowds of tourists were lined up for seal-watching tours and boat rentals. Lidia, wearing bright orange coveralls and water boots, helped Marco pull mesh bags full of oysters off a small boat and into waiting ice coolers. Her back was to Elodie but Marco noticed her and called out, “Hey there, Elodie.”

Lidia turned around for a moment but went right back to feeding oysters into the ice bath. Elodie walked closer.

“Lidia, sorry to interrupt,” she said, talking loudly over the rumble of a nearby boat motor. “I just wanted to say I’m going to take the room for the rest of the summer. I can give you the check whenever you want later but I just didn’t want you to—”

Lidia looked stricken. “Oh, Elodie, I’m so sorry. I rented it out the day before the Fourth weekend, when you gave me notice you were leaving. I have new tenants moving in next week. But I think it’s great that you’re staying—just wonderful!”

Now what? She understood the town enough by now to know that finding another room would not be easy.

Tomorrow, she would have to go back and speak to that horrid little man at the real estate office. For now, she would stay focused on the positive.

She had a date tonight.

The restaurant Connor wanted to take her to, the Red Inn, was fully booked.

“I should have thought ahead,” Connor said. “Of course, they don’t take reservations. It’s right on the water—totally historic. President Roosevelt and his wife stayed here when they came to lay the cornerstone of the Pilgrim Monument in 1907.”

When Connor first arrived in town to start getting the gallery ready during the off-season, the locals had plenty of time and energy to share all sorts of Provincetown trivia. Now, with the summer in full swing, it was conceivable for someone to spot their spouse on the street and barely muster a wave hello.

“It’s fine—honestly. Takeout is great.”

Gemma wasn’t in the mood for a crowded restaurant. After the unexpected visit from Sanjay, she’d considered canceling her plans with Connor. But she couldn’t give in to that impulse.

Connor’s kitchen island was filled end to end with platters of chicken parmesan, pasta, and salads from Liz’s Café on Bradford Street. They took their food to the front porch, drinking white wine out of clear plastic cups.

“This house is really spectacular,” she said, trying to find something positive to say, to think—to feel. She couldn’t let herself slide into a funk.

“It’s pretty perfect,” he said, leaning over to kiss her. “That’s why I made an offer on it.”

She looked at him in surprise. “It’s for sale?”