Considering Bree’s general ineffectiveness with Toby, Lucy wasn’t counting on it, and she slipped an arm around his shoulder. “The thing is, Toby, my friend isn’t exactly a kid person, so instead of coming over, maybe you could start showing me around the island. I know there are a lot of places I haven’t seen yet.”

“I guess.”

Lucy took in the Carousel Honey sign and freshly painted border. “I love what you’re doing. Is the sign working?”

“I’ve sold seven jars this morning.” She scratched a bee sting on her wrist, leaving a spot of raspberry paint behind. “I’m thinking about adding more products, maybe soap or beeswax candles. Whatever I can figure out how to make.”

“It’s still not going to be enough money,” Toby said, with his customary belligerence. “You should leave.”

Lucy quickly intervened. “The two of you have brought the farm stand back to life in just a couple of days. You should be proud of yourselves.”

“It’s Gram who should be proud,” Toby said. “It’s her honey.” He stomped off toward the house. “I’m calling Big Mike!” he shouted. “He said he’d take me out on his boat.”

“No!” Bree dashed to the driveway. “Toby, do not call Mike! Do you understand me? Toby!”

Toby had already disappeared.

With an air of weary resignation, Bree tucked away a lock of hair that had escaped her ponytail. She pulled a cigarette pack from a shelf behind the counter. “I’m no good at this.”

“He’s hurting,” Lucy said. “That makes him a tough challenge.”

“We’re both hurting.” She waved away the smoke, as if what hung in the air posed a bigger danger than what she was sucking into her lungs. “Sorry. Having a little pity party here.” She studied Lucy more closely. “You look so familiar. I feel like I know you from somewhere, but I’m sure we’ve never met. When I first saw you, I thought you were a kid.”

“I’m thirty-one.”

Her gaze drifted to Lucy’s hair, the new eyebrow ring, and the dragon tattoo on her neck.

“A case of arrested development,” Lucy said by way of explanation.

“I see.”

But Bree clearly didn’t see, and Lucy no longer felt right about keeping her identity hidden. She decided to take a risk. “I’m … sort of in disguise.” She hesitated. “I’m … Lucy Jorik.”

Bree’s eyes widened, her posture straightened, and she dropped her cigarette. She might be able to smoke in front of that odd girl who lived on the other side of the woods, but she couldn’t do it in front of the president’s daughter. “Oh … I …”

“I needed to hide out for a while,” Lucy said with a shrug. “This seemed like a good place.”