Blood... Louisa had told him to be careful: "I dreamed of blood last night."

She was working in Nassau for the weekend, and he would not see her until Monday, but she had seemed discomfited and worried, didn't seem to want to go. She had pondered her cards late last night. "Jake, there's something you're keeping from me. What is it?"

"That's enough of that mumbo-jumbo crap. Come here."

Now he blotted at the blood on his finger. Mike appeared in the doorway, his wet suit gleaming with spray.

"Sonobuoys are planted, Skipper."

"Good." Jake turned from the workbench. "Now all we need's one of those BPSTs we got crawling around the bottom on your conch." He sighed. "So you want to take a dive?"

"Want to?" Mike moved to the porthole, looked out, and thought for a moment. He turned back, and his face was grim. "Not exactly, but I will."

***

Ellen had taken to bringing Carla coffee as she worked in the mornings. There was something fascinating about her dedication to the object she was sculpting, whatever it was, and in her daughter-in-law's total concentration on the task. She knocked on the door and waited.

The loud, low hiss of the torch inside stopped. In a moment Carla called, "Come in." The statue was covered. Carla had flipped back her welding mask and drawn off her leather gloves. Now she shed her leather apron.

"There. That's it until after lunch." She faced Ellen. "Okay, have you done it?"

Ellen blushed. She knew what was coming. "Asked Hoagie to Nassau?"

"You know damn well what I mean."

She shook her head. "What you have to understand is that... well, it's a different generation. We didn't ask men for dates."

"You're throwing away a hundred bucks. Those chips don't grow on trees."

"No," she said to Carla. "I guess they don't."

Ellen moved to the window and looked out at the bay. She could see Neptune's Folly tied to the diving barge, a good five miles away.

If Mike would only quit diving...

She turned back. "Hoagie's nice. I just wish I knew more about him."

"I do," said Carla suddenly. "More than I did yesterday, anyway. Philippa told me something."

Philippa was William's wife, and she came to pick up the laundry twice a week.

Ellen's heart beat faster. She hated gossip, but she couldn't help herself. "What did Philippa say?"

"Well, she used to work in Nassau for his wife."

"Ex-wife?" Ellen asked faintly.

Carla smiled and squeezed her hand. "Ex-wife, right."

Thank God for that....

"And?"

"She was beautiful. A British aristocrat but a social renegade. Old Bay Street family. Loaded. Hoagie was in the RAF, never there. They had a daughter, about sixteen."

So far, so good. "Go on."

"The daughter was neglected...."

Their eyes met. Carla flushed. "Look, I know I'm neglecting Thea, and you, too—”

"Carla, you have no choice. I'm a working woman too."