But sooner or later, you have to grow up. Sandra got a business degree. Adam, who liked hands-on work as opposed to sitting behind a desk, landed a job fixing motorcycles while Sandra found a position in a real estate office. Around the time Katie was born, Sandra had made the move to public relations. Adam, still repairing Harleys while working for someone else, dreamed of the day when he would have his own shop, be his own boss.

Shortly after Archie was born, they borrowed a friend’s beach house on Garrett Island for a week’s vacation, and it was an epiphany. They loved it there. Adam found a small engine repair shop that was for sale. That had to be some kind of sign. And a local public relations firm was looking to hire.

Talk about fucking meant-to-be.

Would they like it, living on an island? Would they feel isolated, confined? Well, it was a pretty big island. There was the town of Garrett itself, plus several other smaller communities scattered here and there, and a lot of countryside separating them. Most of the time, you hardly even knew you were on an island. What was it Chief Brody had said about living on an island?

“It only looks like an island from the water.”

So they made the move.

And things had gone just great. Adam’s business thrived. Sure, things slowed down in the winter months, but rather than worry about the seasonal downturn in business, Adam embraced it. He spent more time with the kids, volunteered at their school. Four years into working at the PR firm, the boss decided to retire and turn things over to Sandra.

Things were going along just great.

Until . . .

Sandra opened her eyes, turned, and looked out the window. A blue Arrival was pulling out of a driveway, a woman in the front seat studying herself in the drop-down mirror, touching up her lipstick, not bothering to check for traffic. It was Dorothy Lansing, who ran Garrett Books, where Sandra bought all her reading material. Sandra waved and Dorothy waved back. Glancing out the other window, she saw a yellow Arrival go by with the Ambersons, a middle-aged couple who ran a law firm together. If they’d looked Sandra’s way, she’d have waved at them, too, but they were busy looking at their phones. That sort of behavior was now deemed legal, at least on the island, during the trial period.

Sandra got out her own phone and sent several texts. One to her AV guy, another to the caterer, another to someone she knew who worked for the ferry. The caterer and the AV people were already on-site and ready to go, and the ferry had left the mainland on time. And yet, Sandra still found it hard to relax. She wouldn’t be able to unwind until this day was over.

And then there was Joe.