He unsettled her. Disarmed her. Confused her. She knew people couldn’t be pigeonholed, but she’d never known anyone who resisted a label more than he did.

LUCY FROWNED AT THE MICROWAVE-SHRIVELED green bean draping the clump of chicken on her plate that night. Temple gazed longingly toward the refrigerator, as if she hoped a stream of hot fudge would magically pour out of the water dispenser.

Panda had been quiet all through dinner, but now he pushed his plate away. “I have a surprise for the two of you.”

“Tell me it involves pastry,” Lucy said. “Or letting me cook real food.” Salad was the only contribution she was permitted to make to a meal—all vegetables, no cheese, no olives, no croutons or creamy salad dressing.

“Nope.” He kicked back in his chair. “We’re going out on the water to watch the fireworks.”

“I’ll pass,” Temple said. “Two kayaks for three people isn’t my idea of fun.”

“No kayaks.” He got up from the table. “I’ll meet you both down at the dock. No excuses.”

While Temple finished her dinner Lucy grabbed a sweatshirt and went outside to see what Panda was up to. A black-hulled cabin cruiser, maybe twenty-five feet long, was moored at the dock, a boat that hadn’t been there last time she’d looked down here. “Where did this come from?” she asked.

Panda tossed a pair of life preservers in a locker on the deck. “I talked to Big Mike a couple of days ago. His guys delivered it while we were at the parade and hid it in the boathouse. I leased it for the rest of the summer.”

“What’s this?” Temple said, coming down the steps.

After he’d explained, Temple began calculating how many calories waterskiing burned.

Lucy couldn’t stand it. “I’ll make a deal with you, Temple. If you promise not to use the word calorie for the rest of the night, I’ll work out with you tomorrow. For a little while,” she quickly added.

“Deal,” Temple said. “Really, Lucy, you won’t believe what a difference rigorous exercise makes in—”

“You also can’t talk about exercise, fat grams, cellulite, or any of the rest of that crap,” Lucy said. “Basically, you can only talk about sloth.”

“I’m all over that.” Panda started the engine.

He handled the boat as easily as he handled everything except human relationships. The wind had calmed, the sky had cleared, and the stars were just beginning to come out. He goosed the throttle when they hit open water and headed toward the point that divided them from the town harbor. As they rounded it, they were met with a flotilla of pleasure boats waiting for the show to start, their lights bobbing like fireflies above the water. Some of the boats flew yacht club burgees; others displayed patriotic pennants.