Sitting in the back of her own rowboat unsettled her. More unsettling was the proximity it brought her to Emilia, who maneuvered them away from the dock with none of the awkwardness Morgan had noted that first day.

“You’ve been practicing,” she said to distract herself. The neckline of Emilia’s dress, while modest when Emilia stood upright, dipped each time she leaned into the oars. Morgan threaded her useless fingers together and did her best to pretend she hadn’t noticed.

“That, or I set the bar very low. Tell me if I’m about to hit anything.”

“You’re clear. Head a little toward starboard.”

“Why not just say right?”

“We’re in a boat. The boat’s right side doesn’t change, but if I say right, you might not know if I meant my right or your right. That, and I can only think of left and right in terms of patient charts.”

“Really?”

“Why do you sound like that is worse than midnight cheese theft?” What she didn’t say was that Ray had taught Morgan port and starboard. Using the terms with his daughter felt right, but she didn’t want his ghost rising between them. The muscles in Emilia’s arms shifted smoothly beneath the sleeves of the dress, and her tanned skin burned a warm gold in the evening light.

“Where is this restaurant?”

“Near Pemaquid. It’s faster to get there by boat, and I’m on call tonight.”

“There are plenty of restaurants in town.”

“But you’ve never been to Sally’s. It’s my duty to change that. And here we are.” She held out her hand to catch the side of her boat as Emilia startled and looked over her shoulder. They clambered in, careful to account for the other’s weight. “I can get the mooring.”

“I got it,” said Emilia, who still had the skiff’s bowline in her hand. She knelt in the prow. Morgan abandoned trying to be polite and settled for keeping her hands firmly to herself. The dress hugged Emilia’s ass, and again she got the sense that Emilia knew exactly what she was doing. Sweat pricked her palms.

“Thanks.” She cleared her throat. Her voice appeared to have dropped an octave. “Uh, it might get chilly on the water. I’ve got a spare jacket on the boat if you need it.”

“I’ll just stand back here with you,” said Emilia as she stepped behind the shelter of the windshield.

Morgan started the engine. A spectacular evening spilled over the harbor. They had maybe an hour before sunset, but the running lights on the boat would see them home safely, and she’d checked the forecast.

“How was your sail?”

“Incredible. I think Nell hated it, though. Or maybe she just hated her life jacket.”

“It looked like a good wind.”