Foolish, who was still young enough to deserve the name, sniffed at the trap, inciting a quick and ugly crab riot. As claws snapped, the pup leaped back with a yelp.

‘‘That there dog.’’ Jim shook with laughter. ‘‘He don’t have to worry about no brain fever.’’

• • •

EVEN WHEN THEY’D TAK en the day’s catch to the waterfront, emptied the tank, and dropped Jim off, the day wasn’t over. Ethan stepped back from the controls. ‘‘We’ve got to go into the boatyard. You want to take her in?’’

Though Seth’s eyes were shielded by the dark sunglasses, Ethan imagined that their expression matched the boy’s dropped jaw. It only amused him when Seth jerked a shoulder as if such things were an everyday occurrence.

‘‘Sure. No problem.’’ With sweaty palms, Seth took the helm.

Ethan stood by, hands casually tucked in his back pockets, eyes alert. There was plenty of water traffic. A pretty weekend afternoon drew the recreational sailors to the Bay. But they didn’t have far to go, and the kid had to learn sometime. You couldn’t live in St. Chris and not know how to pilot a workboat.

‘‘A little to starboard,’’ he told Seth. ‘‘See that skiff there? Sunday sailor, and he’s going to cut right across your bow if you keep this heading.’’

Seth narrowed his eyes, studied the boat and the people on deck. He snorted. ‘‘That’s because he’s paying more attention to that girl in the bikini than to the wind.’’

‘‘Well, she looks fine in the bikini.’’

‘‘I don’t see what’s the big deal about breasts.’’

To his credit, Ethan didn’t laugh out loud, but nodded soberly. ‘‘I guess part of that’s because we don’t have them.’’

‘‘I sure don’t want any.’’

‘‘Give it a couple of years,’’ Ethan murmured under the cover of the engine noise. And the thought of that made him wince. What the hell were they going to do when the kid hit puberty? Somebody was going to have to talk to him about . . . things. He knew Seth already had too much sexual knowledge, but it was all the dark and sticky sort. The same sort he himself had known about at much too early an age.

One of them was going to have to explain how things should be, could be—and before too much more time passed.

He hoped to hell it wasn’t going to have to be him.

He caught sight of the boatyard, the old brick building, the spanking new dock he and his brothers had built. Pride rippled through him. Maybe it didn’t look like much with its pitted bricks and patched roof, but they were making something out of it. The windows were dusty, but they were new and unbroken.