“That’s a bunch of hooey!” Olive snaps. “What kind of fisherman are you? Poor Joseph McHill is probably shaking his head up there in heaven, having left you his boat when God took him.”

Henry and I lock eyes, and he winks at me again. “Papa Joseph would have found a way to save that beautiful fish and make money.” He looks up and takes a breath. “You know, every day as I head out of Chatham Harbor, I look to the sky and thank Joseph for leaving me the Reel of Fortune. It’s the best boat on the Cape.” Henry steps toward me and messes my hair a bit. “Aw, he was a good man and a good friend, your papa was. I miss him, too.”

Olive starts talking about the spoons, but Henry interrupts her. “Speaking of Ruby, we better get back inside.” He leaves, chuckling to himself.

When Henry’s door closes, Grammy takes a deep breath, staring at his house. “You’re absolutely right, Olive,” Grammy says. “Something must be done.”

Olive gives Grammy one big, satisfied nod. “Finally. Some sense.”

“I know just the thing. Henry needs a bit of baked goods,” Grammy says with a grin. “Maybe some brownies. Or some of that blueberry pie he likes.” She turns to me. “What do you think, Delsie?”

“Wh-wh-what?” Olive stammers. “That won’t solve a thing. What about . . . the spoons?”

“No spoon on earth has ever felt lonely or forgotten, Olive. But Henry? We must remind him and Ruby that we are their neighbors and friends.” She leans forward and looks her in the eye. “And, Olive, aren’t you just the sweetest thing to bring this to our attention?”

“Well, that’s not exactly—”

Grammy interrupts, “You know, you could help us bake, Olive.”

“Well, I . . . I mean, I don’t know . . . I have a lot of things to do.”

“Well, if you change your mind, don’t you hesitate to give us a yell, now.”

Olive has that look about her. Like she wants to come but won’t let herself. I also know that while we’re baking, Grammy will send me over to borrow something we don’t even need. To give Olive another chance to come.

I smile to myself. Grammy’s always saying that when people throw rocks, you can either build walls or bridges. Grammy has always been a bridge builder.

Chapter 6

LIGHTNING BOY

When I show up at Seaside the next day, Brandy is sitting on the kitchen counter, talking to her mom.

“Hey, Dels,” she greets me, wiping her chin as strawberry juice runs down it. I notice her fingernails. Bright blue. Her toenails are red. I glance at her mom. Same colors.

“Looks like the mani-pedi went well,” I say. My smile makes me feel like my face will crack. And I feel guilty. You’re not supposed to feel jealous of a friend, are you?

Brandy turns back toward the counter so I can’t see what she is doing. Then she spins around wearing new sunglasses. Aviators, I think.