Angie turned her eyes onto Emilia. “Someone said you have a sailboat?”

“It was my dad’s.”

“Will you take us out sometime?”

Emilia thought Angie looked smaller, somehow, without Stevie beside her, as if she’d shrunk in on herself.

“I haven’t sailed in years and it’s a pretty small boat, but sure.”

“You should take someone with you the first few times you go out.” Morgan’s voice was serious, and Emilia tensed, remembering the boating safety comment. Even if she knew Morgan well enough by now to guess she hadn’t meant the comment as an insult, the idea of being in the boat with anyone other than her father stiffened her spine.

“I’ll . . . I’ll think about it.”

“Take Morgan. She knows the water,” Angie suggested.

“I don’t know much about sailboats,” said Morgan.

“But you know the currents.”

“Emilia might have other friends,” Lillian said to Angie. “Or family in the area.”

Stormy began singing happy birthday at that moment, sparing Emilia the need to think up an excuse. She stood with the rest of the group to enter the house.

A hand on her elbow stopped her.

“Hey.” Morgan searched her eyes. “I know I’m being an ass about this, but I’m serious. The currents are dangerous. The river’s full of ledges, and the harbor isn’t much better.”

“I’m aware.”

“Are you?”

“Yes, actually.” Anger heated her cheeks. “And while I appreciate your concern, I am quite capable of taking care of myself.” So many people had questioned her decisions of late—herself included—and she couldn’t handle Morgan adding to the list. She needed to believe she knew what she was doing.

“I get that. But you said yourself that you haven’t been out in that boat in how many years?”

“If I want a lecture, I’ll take that boating safety course.”

“My engine died on me once. I hadn’t told anyone where I was going, and I’d left my radio in my locker. It was one of the scariest moments of my life. If a lobsterman hadn’t seen me drifting I could have been seriously fucked.”

“I have sails and an engine. If one dies, I’ll use the other.”

Morgan raked a hand through her short hair. “Just tell someone when you go out, okay? I don’t need your dad haunting me.”

Emilia sucked in a breath of cool night air and dug her nails into her palms, although whether to keep from striking Morgan or from showing just how much the words had knocked the wind from her, she didn’t know.

“Emilia.” Morgan started to reach for her, then dropped her hand. “Fuck. I’m so sorry.”

She shouldn’t have come. She missed the steady presence of her dog and the quiet of her father’s porch. “I think I should go.”

“Emilia, please.”

Stop saying my name. “What, Morgan?”

“I . . .” Morgan glanced around the empty yard, then back to Emilia. “I’m protective of the people I care about. I overstepped. It’s your boat, and I’m sure you know what you’re doing. Will you stay for cake at least?”