“It sure is nice of you to take such good care of Flora,” he said.

“She's wonderful,” Jessica said. “She's the best dog I've ever met, except for one.”

“One?”

Jessica nodded. “Tally,” she said.

“Who's Tally?” Patrick asked.

But Jessica turned and threw the yellow tennis ball again, and Flora went bounding away. Jessica followed, tearing across the grass. A Frisbee game was in progress, but she and Flora ran around it, toward the gazebo. Patrick watched Flora snatch the ball, then gallop up the steps of the small, round structure right in the middle of the inn's lawn.

“Hi, Patrick,” Sam said, coming out onto the porch.

“Hi, Sam.”

“That's been their spot all day,” Sam said, gazing at Jessica and Flora. “First with Jess's friend Allie, and then just the two of them.”

Patrick looked at the way Jessica sat there, her arm looped around Flora's neck, whispering in her ear.

“She's been really nice, looking after my dog,” Patrick said.

Sam glanced at him with surprise. “Don't you know?” she asked. “Your dog is looking after her.” Something in her voice was so tender, almost sorrowful, Patrick wanted to ask her what she meant. But just then Marisa came out the inn door, with T. J. McGuinn behind her.

“Are you sure you don't mind?” Marisa asked.

“Hanging out with my niece?” Sam asked. “Never.”

“I might keep you company for a few more minutes, if that's okay,” T.J. said. “Then I'll head home—I've got the dawn ferry shift tomorrow.”

Sam smiled and nodded, and Marisa gathered up her jacket and bag. She called to Jessica that she'd be back before too long, and Jessica waved to show she'd heard. Glancing up at Patrick, Marisa let him know she was ready.

The two of them crossed the lawn to Patrick's truck. With so many people spread out on the grass on blankets and lawn chairs to listen to the ceili, he felt eyes on them, and it gave him a feeling of pride to be seen with Marisa. The Irish music played, carried on the evening breeze. Patrick opened Marisa's door, then went around the truck to get in and start it up.

They drove along the wharf, and then turned onto a road that took them winding into the pine-dark Cape Hawk hills. From here, looking down at the bay, everything was shades of dark blue. Shadowed by the cliffs, the water blended into the land across the strait. The twilight sky was clear, deep blue, sprinkled with silver stars. They seemed to hang in the tree branches, sweeping low over the narrow road.

Patrick traced the route he had come earlier, following Gerard Lafarge in the white van. There weren't many houses on this stretch, only old unpaved logging roads that reached into the forest.

“Can you tell me what we're doing?” Marisa asked.