Mac watched his father interact with kids, customers and employees as he shouted out orders and engaged in a series of hand signals to direct incoming boaters while deftly fending off another arriving boat. Big Mac choreographed the scene with the finesse of a dispatcher and the authority of a drill sergeant.

Amused, Mac waited for his father to finish tying up the newcomer. Farther down the main dock, the marina’s second-in-command, Luke Harris, wrestled with a throttle-happy power boater who’d put speed ahead of safety and skill.

Luke, a high school classmate of Mac’s, had worked at McCarthy’s for more summers than Mac could count. Mac watched him corral the out-of-control boat without any damage to the others around it. The crowd on the dock gave Luke a round of applause that earned a scowl from the boat’s captain.

Big Mac had turned his attention to a crew of kids he’d no doubt recruited from the boats who were shucking a bushel of corn for the restaurant. He said something that had them all laughing. Pulling a fly swatter from his back pocket, Big Mac took care of the early-season bees that were bugging the kids and returned the swatter to his pocket.

Patting one of the kids on the head, Big Mac turned and noticed his son standing on the sidelines waiting for him. His face lit up with pure joy. Mac’s throat tightened as his father made his way across the pier. He loved no one more than the giant of a man who’d raised him with a gentle but steady hand. His father stopped, gave him a measuring once-over and then shook his head as if he couldn’t believe his eyes. Behind the dark sunglasses, Mac suspected he’d find tears.

“What a nice surprise,” Big Mac said softly, framing his son’s face with calloused, work-roughened hands the size of dinner plates. Their father’s effusive love had once mortified his sons, but Mac had long ago outgrown his aversion. “What’s wrong with you?”

Mac laughed, not one bit surprised that his father could also take a quick look and know something wasn’t quite right. “Apparently, I’ve been burning the candle.”

“Well, you look like hell.” He slung a thick arm around Mac’s shoulders. “Buy you a late lunch?”

“Thanks, but I already ate. I actually have to get back to town.” He gave his father a quick recap of what’d happened earlier with Maddie.

“You can’t be serious about covering for her at the hotel.”

“She can’t work for a few days, and she’s petrified about losing the job.”

“We can see that doesn’t happen, son. We’re not ogres.”

“It’s a pride thing. Besides, how hard can it be to clean a couple of rooms?”

Big Mac snickered. “Harder than you probably think. Mom will pitch a cow over this.”