“Because this outboard ain’t going to mount itself.”

“Wait. Did you buy that motor for . . . us?”

“Consider it a birthday gift.”

“But why would you do that? You don’t even know us.”

“I’ve met just about every kind of person there is,” Norm says. “I know you and Spitfire are good girls, and I want you to make it to Key West. A sturdy outboard’ll help.”

“I just—” Tears prickle in Taylor’s eyes. She never expected so much generosity from strangers, least of all a gruff old salt like Captain Norm. “It’s too much.”

He waves her off. “Just go inflate the dinghy, will ya?”

When the outboard is in place, Norm tells Taylor he’ll be right back. He goes aboard his own boat for a couple of minutes and returns with a pair of fishing rods and a small bait bucket. “You like to fish?”

Taylor’s granddad would try to take her and her brothers fishing when they were little, but Granddad liked to go out before the sun was even up. Carter would complain that the fish didn’t start biting until sunrise and Campbell would fall asleep on the ride out to Granddad’s favorite fishing spot, but Taylor loved zipping across the quiet bay in the dark. She didn’t mind waiting for the fish to bite. And she loved how Granddad would let her reel her catches all the way to the boat on her own, without taking over. “I do.”

“Let’s take your dinghy out for a spin.”

Later, as Taylor and Norm step aboard What’s Next, he shoots her a warning glance. “Remember what I said. Surprised.”

Except when he slides open the door, Taylor’s surprise is authentic. She has to duck beneath a garland of blue pom-poms to enter the cabin, where a cluster of multicolored helium balloons sits in the middle of the table with a birthday cake—German chocolate—and a couple of small gift bags with tissue paper poking out.

“Happy Birthday, Taylor!” Willa shouts, as Amy begins singing the birthday song. For the second time in a day, Taylor feels tears welling up. She laughs at Amy’s off-key delivery—to be fair, no one ever sings the birthday song well—and sniffles as Willa pulls her into a hug.

“I know it’s not what Finley would do,” Willa says.

“No,” Taylor says. “But it’s still pretty perfect.”