Finley would have done something special for Taylor’s birthday. Finley would have at least remembered. Taylor scrubs ferociously until Norm comes out on the back deck. “You don’t need to take off the paint job.”

“Sorry,” she says. “I’m just frustrated because it’s my birthday and Willa didn’t remember.”

Norm crosses his arms over his chest. “Of course she did. Why do you think you’re washing my boat?”

“Wait.” The brush goes still against the side of the boat. “Seriously?”

“You better act surprised or Amy will have my hide.”

“Oh, I’m surprised,” Taylor says. “But do I have to keep scrubbing?”

He chuckles. “Nah. But I’m s’posed to keep you busy, so you can come with me to the service department up at the marina.”

As they walk, Taylor finds herself telling Norm the real story of Whiskey Tango Foxtrot. She talks about Finley. She talks about everything, even the part about Vanessa, even though she’s not sure how open-minded he is about girls kissing girls.

“I’m really sorry to hear about your friend,” he says, when she finishes. “But this is a good thing you’re doing. I don’t know that I believe in magic, but out here in the loop . . . Well, I think it’s about as close as you can get.”

She smiles. “Thanks.”

Norm nods, but he doesn’t speak, and Taylor thinks maybe he’s used up all his words for the day. They walk in comfortable silence the rest of the distance to the marina. Taylor and Willa have put so much faith into his book—into his words—that she has to believe that what Captain Norm says is true.

“Good morning, Captain,” the service manager says as Norm leads Taylor into the service department. The name tag on his blue polo shirt says DOUG. “What can I do for you today?”

“Looking for a small outboard. Four-horse or less. And I don’t want to spend more than two hundred bucks.”

“You’re not going to find anything that cheap,” Doug says. “Least not that runs.”

“Then sell me one that doesn’t run.”

“I’ve got an old Johnson that needs a carburetor gasket.”

Norm scratches his beard. “Okay. So throw in a carburetor gasket and we’ve got a deal.”

Doug looks a little dazed, as though he’s not sure how he ended up on the losing end of this negotiation, but as Taylor and Norm follow him into the service bay—toward a row of used outboard motors on stands—Taylor leans over and in a low voice says, “That was pretty Jedi.”

Norm winks at her. “Damn straight.”

He installs the new carburetor gasket right there in the service bay, working slowly and methodically, as Taylor watches. When he finishes, Norm carries the engine down to the dock.

“I’m going to need you to inflate your dinghy,” he says.

“What? Why?”