“Business.” She’d been distracted up until that moment from thinking about the argument with Celeste.

“What business is that?”

“Jewelry.”

“Interesting,” Tito said, though his tone of voice suggested just the opposite.

Again she wondered: What could she do to coerce her sister into signing the paperwork? Elodie had long ago learned from her father that everyone had a price. And she was willing to do whatever it took to figure out Celeste’s. In the meantime, she wanted more luxurious accommodations.

“So you work at the boatyard?” she said. He nodded.

“It’s the family business,” he said. “Started by my grandfather. It’s changed a lot over the years. Used to be repairing and building fishing boats but eventually evolved to a mooring field. And we have the boat rentals—you can rent kayaks, pontoon boats, et cetera. Last year we started seal tours.”

“Interesting,” she said—about as enthusiastically as he’d responded to her work.

“It’s seasonal. And it’s flexible enough for me to continue to do volunteer animal rescue on the side.”

“Animal rescue?”

“You’d be surprised how much trouble dolphins can get themselves into.”

They passed a small café called Relish, and Pearl relieved herself.

“How far is this beach?” Elodie said.

“Almost there.”

On the corner to their right, Elodie noticed an extraordinary white clapboard, octagon-shaped house with a widow’s walk.

“That’s a fantastic house,” she said.

“It was built by a whaler in 1850,” Tito said. “It’s had as many lives as a cat: Inn. Restaurant. Retirement home. Today it’s a privately owned house.”

Now, that was the type of place she could settle in to for a few weeks.

“Do you know anyone else who has a place like that to rent out?”

“For next summer?” Tito said.

“No—for the next few weeks.”

He looked at her like she was from another planet. “This season is booked. I rented out my house back in February. That’s why I’m staying at my cousin’s. And the only reason Lidia had a room for you is because her daughter decided not to come home from school for the summer.”

They reached a parking lot, and beyond it, a sprawling view of the bay and a narrow stretch of beach.

“Lidia’s your cousin?”

“No. Lidia’s husband, Manny,” he said.

They cut through the parking lot to a bench at the edge of the beach. Cement stairs led down to the sand.

“I’ll have to wait here. I can’t ruin these shoes,” she said. She sat on the bench and Tito offered to bring Pearl down to the beach and let the dogs off their leashes.

“Is that allowed?” she asked.

“Sure. But no dogs on Race Point Beach. And I’d think twice about Herring Cove because of the coyotes.”

Coyotes?