‘‘Cut back on the throttle. Take her in slow.’’ Absently Ethan put a hand over Seth’s on the controls. He felt the boy stiffen, then relax. He still had a problem with being touched unexpectedly, Ethan noted. But it was passing. ‘‘That’s the way, just a bit more to starboard.’’

When the boat bumped gently against the pilings, Ethan jumped onto the pier to secure lines. ‘‘Nice job.’’ At his nod, Simon, all but quivering with anticipation, leaped overboard. Yipping frantically, Foolish clambered onto the gunwale, hesitated, then followed.

‘‘Hand me up the cooler, Seth.’’

Grunting only a little, Seth hefted it. ‘‘Maybe I could pilot the boat sometime when we’re crabbing.’’

‘‘Maybe.’’ Ethan waited for the boy to scramble safely onto the pier before heading to the rear cargo doors of the building.

They were already open wide and the soul-stirring sound of Ray Charles flowed out through them. Ethan set the cooler down just inside the doors and put his hands on his hips.

The hull was finished. Cam had put in dog’s hours to get that much done before he left for his honeymoon. They’d planked it, rabbeting the edges so that they would lap, yet remain smooth at the seams.

The two of them had completed the steam-bent framing, using pencil lines as guides and ‘‘walking’’ each frame carefully into place with slow, steady pressure. The hull was solid. There would be no splits in a Quinn boat’s planking.

The design was primarily Ethan’s with a few adjustments here and there of Cam’s. The hull was an arc-bottom, expensive to construct but with the virtues of stability and speed. Ethan knew his client.

He’d designed the shape of the bow with this in mind and had decided on a cruiser bow, attractive and, again, good for speed, buoyant. The stern was a counterdesign of moderate length, providing an overhang that would make the boat’s length greater than her waterline length.

It was a sleek, appealing look. Ethan understood that his client was every bit as concerned with appearance as he was with basic seaworthiness.

He’d used Seth for grunt labor when it was time to coat the interior with the fifty-fifty mix of hot linseed oil and turpentine. It was sweaty work, guaranteed to cause a few burns despite caution and gloves. Still, the boy had held up fine.

From where he stood, Ethan could study the sheerline, the outline at the top edge of the hull. He’d gone with a flattened sheerline to ensure a roomier, drier craft with good headroom below. His client liked to take friends and family out for a sail.