I do. It’s one of my favorite spots here. The Graveyard is a spot off the northwest shore where the waves break in a long white line. When I first moved here, I’d mistaken it for a natural shoal, but Hugh set me straight—it’s a massive reef formed by the combined wrecks of ships trying to invade Lute over millennia, from Vikings to Nazis. Our pub, the Dane’s Head, is named for one unfortunate Viking who, in attempting to invade, hit the reef and swam to shore, only to have his head removed and set on a pike for children to lob rotten vegetables at, presumably on the spot where the pub now stands.

Nobody has ever successfully attacked us—not even the Normans, really. They sent the first Lord Treadway over, and he promptly fell in love with the place, assimilated, married a Lute girl, refused to pay taxes to the Crown, and somehow got away with it.

It’s all a trick of history and geography. A patchwork pattern that proves nothing. There’s a lot of history here to pick and choose from. The currents around these islands are treacherous.

And yet, I do have to admit, we’ve never had any trouble navigating to the mainland or to Sunnan or Elding or even Joseph’s Rock for a day trip. The only time our plans have ever been scuppered, in fact, was yesterday.

Jo is watching me. “We’re all comfortable financially, aren’t we? Untouched by ups and downs for the most part.”

This I do know more than a little about, as the fortunes of Lute are so tied up with the wealth of the family I’ve joined. There are books on the shelves of Hugh’s study about the Treadways, old leather-bound tomes I found amusing enough to crack when I was pregnant with Charlie and too tired to do anything but patter around the house. It seemed like some ridiculous vanity printing, but after I started reading, I couldn’t stop. The history was fascinating enough that I couldn’t believe I hadn’t read about it elsewhere.

The legend of the blessed islanders was what gave Lute notoriety in Britain through the centuries and, funnily enough, money. From the moment ships were crossing the Atlantic or heading north on fishing and whaling expeditions, Lute sailors were sought after for their luck. They said in the Bristol harbors that a ship with a Lute islander aboard was unsinkable, so sailors from here were paid well over standard wages, with larger shares in the bounty—and whether it’s history or legend talking, they say that Lute-blessed ships always wound up with hefty takings.