“Thanks.” As I bundled Jenn inside, she stumbled on the steps, then gripped the edges of the book racks as we went along the aisle. Exiting a manic phase, she was always spent. In Daniel’s cabin, the berth was still mussed from our lovemaking. I quickly smoothed it, but Jenn didn’t seem to notice. She went right to it and sat, limp as a rag.

She eyed me beneath heavy lids. “I really do have cousins in Minneapolis.”

“I know. You’ve told me . . .”

“No, really.” She flopped over on her side, grasping for a pillow. “But they wouldn’t care if I lived or died.”

The truth, at last. I hoped it was a good sign.

I settled beside her. “Well, we care. The den’s your family now.”

I sat with her till she was asleep, then went up top to hug Daniel, mostly to feel his ready response, his body tight to mine. This new miracle of two-ness filled me with gratitude. Then we got back to work, toting plants, stowing them tightly on the emptied book racks until the main cabin was green as a jungle.

“That’s all for this load.” Ellie Mae poked her white head in the door. “It’s good they’ll be under cover when the storm comes.”

Daniel brushed past a rosemary, releasing its scent. “We’ll have them to the Stadium before it does.”

“Better still.” But a twist of her mouth betrayed her doubt.

“Will you ride up with us?” I wasn’t sure where we’d put her.

“No, dear. I have to head out sooner with a full load of young trees to chaperone on one of Maxine’s pontoon boats. It has a canopy, but the sides are open, so I feel they’ll need some extra care. Peter’s coming to help.”

“Peter? Oh, you mean Peeto?”

“Yes, of course. He’s a great hand with the plants.”

“He is?”

“My right arm in the garden.”

Live and learn. No wonder his hands were always dirty. “Safe sailing to both of you.”

She was stiff getting into the rowboat but settled herself briskly as the young Smith pushed off with one oar. She’d worked steadily, pacing herself so that she seemed no wearier at the end of the job than she had at the beginning. Daniel and I watched them glide away, rolling gently in the building swell.

“Crazy Ellie . . .” I mused.

Daniel laughed. “Crazy like a fox.”

“You know her?”

“She used to wander up to the Souk now and then. Until Pete Sweeney started running her errands for her.”

Amazing. About both of them. I’d assumed Ellie Mae to be pretty much confined to the den, due to old age or Rousseau’s constraints. “What sort of errands?”